Well, I do sometimes.
It's the projects that excite me because they are just brilliantly delightful, or subtle, or honest, or complicated. It's work like this, and explorations like this, or reflections like this!
It probably sounds like I'm exaggerating but I promise I'm not. An almost-explosion is just the most accurate description I could think of to explain how intensely I perceive - in all of the cells of my body - joy and beauty and importance in humanly experienced phenomena as they are observed, connected, painted, sung, questioned.
Usually it's just a fleeting sensation, but it makes me feel giddy with optimism and then immediately afterwards somewhat melancholy. Because I'm not right-in-this-moment doing something equally awesome, even though I want to be.
It's about exploring the things of our existence that we know well, like our scars and our favorite foods, or not so well, like, say, why owning a couch is so important, because we just haven't taken the time to think about them yet.
I think this is why I entered into a graduate program in Ethnomusicology. It's why I love to listen to NPR programs. It's why listening to a lecture about whale songs could make me cry. (This isn't it but she is incredible.)
A lot of the time, these moments seem to coincide with sunny days.
Sunshine makes it so much easier for me to recognize the world as one, big, marvelous sphere for all kinds of opportunities.
Actually, these reactions to explorations of human life feel kind of like a sharp, glinted ray of sunlight. They are bright, and lovely, and fleeting.
It reminds me of how I used to feel every morning as a kid. When I woke up I was excited to start the day, as if something had spiked my adrenaline.
Sunshine is a good catalyst.
And so is coffee.
This is the soundtrack: "Everything is Everything," Lauryn Hill, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill
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