In a world ruled by social media and constant comparison, it’s easy to forget what lies beneath the surface. We scroll past filtered triumphs and curated achievements, rarely pausing long enough to enjoy the slower moments or really reflect on the core things that give this all meaning and make all the risk worth it. We get so stuck on where we want to be, we forget to enjoy where we are now. We also forget how to share the struggles we might be going through.
I’m an introvert and have been a loner my whole life, so it’s often difficult for me to come to the conclusion that the airtime isn’t the core reason for doing any of this. For me, it’s the connections. Shared memories. Love. It’s the feeling of making a positive impact on others, creating epic memories and lifting up those around you. It’s what makes it all worth it. It’s hard to admit I lost sight of this.
It’s easy to keep moving in life through a certain lens, never stopping to acknowledge what makes you, you. Why we do something, and who we do it with, matters much more than what we are doing. The energy you put out is the energy you get back.
When I started these sports it was about the love of flying, the freedom, the friendships. And that feeling still holds true at the core of me. But even I get lost in the chaos at times. Feel the pressure.
For me, the times I stopped being so hard on myself, focused on lifting up those around me and putting out good energy, those are the times I progressed the most. Without even thinking about it. It felt effortless. And that energy is contagious. Comparison is not just the thief of happiness, but in my opinion, it slows progression and productivity. It takes work to maintain a good balance with everything in these sports.
In today's social climate, it feels like everything revolves around progression. Being the best. Chasing the next level. The constant pressure to prove something. To show that you’re still "relevant". Still pushing. Still good enough. And often, it feels like social media and getting "the shot" are the only things that matter. In these sports, that’s a dangerous place to be. And I can tell you, in the end, none of that matters. The memories that matter the most to me with the people I've lost were the conversations and laughs between jumps and not how rad and gnarly we were getting.
So, as the end of the trip neared, I was exhausted and broken. But I was also filled with gratitude. Grateful to be here. Grateful for the memories and time I’ve had with people. Suddenly letting go of Compton’s ashes seemed like a symbol of all that. I scattered part of her over a dune we soared and the rest after a wingsuit jump along the coast at sunset.