It's kind of strange to be a free soloist when you know so much about flying, because I'm playing two opposite games, or practicing two polar opposite arts. One is the art of not falling. The other one is flying. With both those things spinning in my mind, there's a lot to process and it's pretty mind-boggling.

The moment before I jump is filled with anxiety and what-ifs. But then as soon as I enter the air, I'm filled with this calmness and that's the main attraction to it. That's why I do these death-consequence pursuits or arts.

A lot of people confuse free climbing with free solo. Free climbing is when we use ropes, but we only make upward progress with our bodies.

Each time I saw a cliff, I wondered whether I could free solo it. My life shaped itself around the understanding that falling means I die. To break the paradigm I had to empty out my essence, rummaging for fundamentals I thought were gone forever.

I was taking my advance freefall course, doing my level 1 jump. My heart was racing. Like I said, I have a lot of fear with falling, so I panicked. Then I let go of the door of the airplane and kind of panicked the entire way. But after a few jumps I grew more calm, realized what was going on, and I think that was the key. The more calm I got, the more relaxed I was.

The most beautiful experiences I've had climbing are when everything is simplified. Free soloing is the simplest thing, until you learn to fly or to walk on air - which I feel is all possible.

Entranced by the flight of a raven, I watch its shadow move effortlessly against golden, shimmering granite. I long to be that free, flying above the cluttered world of normalcy, where so many are half alive.