What’s it like to be alive?
To be deeply, fully alive?
I used to think it was a state of bliss.
Eternal gratitude and quiet joy.
Or something like it.
And sometimes, it can be like that.
And then it passes.
Another seeing,
Another hearing,
Another experience takes its place.
In this moment, aliveness looks like this:
Laundry on my balcony.
Seeing colors move from the corner of my eye
as wind blows through fabric.
The smell of fire.
The thought:
Did someone fire up the barbecue?
The thought:
Should I take the laundry inside
when someone starts putting bratwursts on the grill?
The thought:
Why does this fucker fire up the grill the moment my laundry is out?
The sound of a car.
A shard of conversation.
Drilling.
Hands typing.
So ordinary.
So … everything.
Love,
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