What comes to mind when you ask this question?
Playing music, being in nature, writing, helping others, being a part of something bigger than yourself, your life, or even your generation?
Whatever comes to mind, how often do you do such thing?
10 minutes a day, maybe 10 minutes a week?
Shouldn’t it be more like 8 hours a day, if not every hour, or even every breath?
If the things that make us feel alive are a rarity, a luxury that only get a slot when all the drudgery and dishes of everyday life are finally done, what does that make us?
A fish flapping on the rocks comes to mind.
When left to the wayside, the things that make us feel alive often don’t make enough sense to fit them into our everyday, practical, productive, and logical lives.
After all, what is the feeling of “being alive”?
Just some non-sensical whim that people who have too much time and money and material stuff worry about.
Look at you, you’re alive and well as you could ever be, you have things other people could only dream of, so what privileged new-age-speak you chirping?
Actually, you’re right — we have everything we need right here to keep at bay our concerning, niggling feelings and make us placated enough to never even question if we’re alive or dead.
But, in those rare moments, when there’s a brief opening in the fog, when the full charade is revealed for a moment, the ancient memories come flooding back in and we know exactly what the feeling is.
The feeling isn’t a feeling at all, as in something that comes and goes, something that we simply experience and enjoy before getting back to work, it’s our natural state of being.
Our natural state of being is never forgotten, it’s simply put on standby so we can go about our days in our man-made, unnatural world.
Maybe at first put on standby until we get off of work and get home to play with the kids, or we finish for the weekend and go hiking, or until we complete a big project.
But later turned permanently off as it only gets in the way of us replying to emails, dealing with irritable managers, navigating aholes in traffic, buying food at the supermarket, and getting the bills paid.
Although it never can be completely turned off, but it can be indefinitely soothed by fantastical stories of books and series, intensely sweet and passionate pleasures, extreme sports and working habits, or whatever else takes your fancy.
All the while justifying ourselves by saying anyway, it’s too late now, maybe I just need to meditate more, everyone else seems happy enough, why do I have to be so ungrateful / weak / messed up?
Once we stop following and shut off our deep feelings, instincts, inner guidance or knowing, or whatever you want to call it, what else do we have to follow?
We can’t cry, we can’t get angry, we can’t say what we truly think or feel, we certainly can’t trust ourselves and unquestionably can’t let ourselves go for more than a drunk moment.
We can only take what we’re given and hope things change and we get better.
And so, the flame flickers and dwindles.
But thankfully, the flame never fully goes out. No matter how weak and dim it gets.
It may get to a point where it’s not strong enough to motivate us by itself. It doesn’t set your heart ablaze and entice you towards itself.
But like a firefly, it does give off random sparks of light that help you see the way.
So what makes you feel alive?
We’re not talking about skydiving and taking ecstasy.
We’re talking about what opens your heart, makes you feel connected to others and the world, and makes you glad and excited to be alive.
If you can’t think of anything, keep asking and asking and asking.
Don’t doubt it, the fire is there. It sometimes just needs some prodding and tending to before the embers get burning again.
Hugs,
Joe