Once again, the moment. Seemingly out of nowhere, and in a situation where one would least expect to be overcome by an emotion, I found myself spontaneously sobbing out of pure transcendent joy. It occurs to me I should say something about this since no one hardly ever does, which is a goddamned shame.
For one thing, it’s happened before, though now with greater intensity. I seem to spend a lot of time on the edge of breaking through to being “okay,” you might say, or tapping into something bigger, and every once in a very great while, I fall through the veil and get a jolt. It’s very strong stuff. Sometimes being creative brings me close. There’s an intuitive state where I’m not interfering, where I become transparent to the flow. Another word for this is possibly guidance.
Oddly, this is all I care about when I’m what I’d call sane. Whatever the hell the subject is didn’t even register with me when I was a fine young man. Now that I’m sliding into gravity-ravaged ruin, I finally discover the reason for living. What a crock! — or is it crack? Swing that hammer one more time, I almost felt sorry for myself again.
There you have it, grown man goes nuts at 7,000 feet.
(Thank God!)
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Not what you had in mind, I know, but your piece put me in mind of Stephen Crane’s poem:
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who squatting upon the ground
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter, bitter,” he answered,
“But I like it
Because it is bitter
And because it is my heart.”
Not much flow or convergence in a heart like that, but the tasting of the bitterness at the core of things – in one’s own heart, even – has its pleasures. It may be an acquired taste.