What is life without a little bit of drama, a sprinkling of emotion and the smell of elation -- of things we have lost, things we have gained and the years we have lived? In the short years that we will get to live, if we can’t find at least five minutes of every day to stand back and look at the scale of everything around us and feel special and insignificant at the same time about everything we have done -- that we have done so much and even then it amounts to nothing, what is there really to live for?
You know, the thing I feel constantly about my life is the inevitability, of the end, of the lack of time that lingers in the air like stale cigarette smoke, of the truths we search so hard to find and the truths we try so hard to run away from. In the midst of all of this, the only saving grace are the rare moments when you feel special. It is that feeling you get when you are blessed by an act of kindness by a stranger that came out of turn or for no good reason, when you know you deserved none of it and still it happened to you.
It is the feeling that I get when I hit the wide open road after being stuck in some thirty minutes of awful and maddening traffic, when the world opens up in front and on both flanks. In a matter of a couple of seconds the horizon on either side, obscured in a veil of mild mist, shapes somewhere in the distance and the road snakes on endlessly into the distance. It is so much like life then. There is so much to discover on either side. The promise it holds ahead is tantalizing. It is so very special and uncertain at the same time.
And once in a while you get touched, more in your soul than in your body, like some sinful music that affects your entire being, where you are understood even without even having to speak a single word. For that short while you sway, you sing and you dissolve in it. Soon enough, the deafening noises come back, but for those five minutes you are the luckiest human being alive. You feel special, you feel blessed. The music ends, but the melody lingers on forever, to live and die along with you some day. Is it wrong to want to feel that special every living day or to spend each of those days, wastefully, looking, yearning and desiring that feeling, be it even in vain?