Maybe it’s spring

Maybe I finally, truly have a screw loose. Maybe this is actually the way everyone wants to feel all of the time, but most people never even taste it; or can’t find it or give up trying; or only know how to get it through means that are frowned upon.

I have a friend, she will know immediately that I am speaking of her, who I used to describe as a very literal sensualist. That is, the miracle of every sense is a pleasure to her. The pleasure of every sensation is a miracle, every time. I used to watch this with a distant, scientific curiosity. Now I wonder how she survives. Because to be in the world this way is to love enormously, break your heart, and die over and over and over again.

I have been trying to understand this rage of feelings that welled up and took over late last year. It’s a complex landscape: the freest, utterest joy; that swoopy fear you get from looking down when you soar at great heights; frustration at reality, which even in all its beauty, holds you a little from moving forward faster, like running in waist-deep water; throes of gratitude that these feelings even exist and have come into your life; a knowing that such passion is a mantle; that prescient sadness (which is the true loss of innocence) from knowing that every moment will conclude; the rocket-fuel thrusters of feeling brightly, confidently potential.

I love this feeling. Yet it aches like old stab wounds; and sears like catching the sun in your eyes when new leaves dance aside on spring breezes. Not a complaint. More…a tribute, and a thank you, to those who have led me here. Perhaps I will grow accustomed to this space, which feels simultaneously, so constantly ready to shout with joy and so awfully, permanently, tentative. And that would be its own rich, exuberant loss.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s