The first time I geared up to go hang gliding, I couldn’t stop
smiling.

The photo is live.

I wasn’t smiling on purpose—this was an autonomic phenomenon, like
breathing or maintaining blood circulation with your heart. And I knew it—I knew
that my perma-grin was rooted in every part of me—body, mind, spirit, soul,
consciousness, what have you—all of me anticipating great joy.

And it was an immense feeling, setting off at high speed down the runway, taking
flight into the summer sky. My guide and I were secured to a hang glider that
was tethered to a plane that lifted us from a flat green field into waves of
warm air. As we ascended I felt a joy like the joy I feel when taking off in a
plane, but much stronger, with vastly more awe as the gentle breeze streamed
against my face.