I hope you fall back in love with being alive;
I hope you rediscover the magic of being alive;
I hope you rediscover what it means to be alive, what it means to be in love, to love being alive and to love the magic of living.
There are periods of my life — months, maybe, seasons, years, even — where all feels dead. These years can pass by without immersion in the experience of being alive; where one goes through the motions for so long that they forget there is another way.
There are seasons where this is my experience of “aliveness” — not aliveness at all, but a puppetry of it.
And then, there are days where suddenly… even though I am breathing the very same air with the very same lungs, I can suddenly taste the crispness of the air. Suddenly, my lung capacity triples. Suddenly, there is a relationship I experience with all things around me; suddenly, I feel alive, and everything around me reflects that aliveness; everything feels alive, is alive, coursing with life and vitality.
Looking out the window from a classroom at trees being blown around by the breeze is no longer mundane; it is a leap from two dimensional to three or four or five or umpteen dimensions. The very sight is moving, for no reason at all and yet for every reason there could possibly be.
Suddenly, the magic returns. I am alive, and I am experiencing it as if it is happening to me, not someone else I am along the ride with.
Is this health?
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 