I remember when I was a boy, I would wake up and go outside in the early morning. And I would stand in the air, and I’d breathe, and this feeling would pulse through me–the joy of life. Gurgling and bubbling, an effervescence of spirit. It would happen mostly in summer (at least I associate it with summertime). The components were a sense of freedom and an anticipation that anything could happen. The beauty of the feeling derived from its not being event-based. I wasn’t going to Six Flags that day. (The event-based feeling of joy almost always crashed in retrospect.) I didn’t know what the hell was going to happen that day. I only knew I was thrilled to have the opportunity to experience it.
I love that feeling. I find it is mostly simple things that trigger it. Breath. If you pay attention, there are times when the simple joy of breathing resonates through your body. Water. It can be the ocean or a lake or a pool or even the shower. Food, definitely. Sex, as I recall. Memory. Family. Nature. God.
A few weeks ago, I got out of my car and was walking toward my school building. It was early June, and the air was clean and good, and the shadow of the school shaded the early morning Texas sun. I felt it–the inexorable rush that started in my gut and spread outward to all my limbs, most especially the one on top of my shoulders. I’m sixty-three years old and I still got it. Blessed.
The joy of life. Savor.
Summer always triggers that same feeling and some of my most vivid and special memories. I loved this blog. It made me smile
thanks, tara. when i think of people who understand “the joy of life”…you’re way up on the list!