Have you ever, for no apparent reason, been so happy you thought you were going to explode in a spectacular display of dazzling fireworks and blinding light? It’s indescribably wonderful. And utterly terrifying. Wonderful because the universe―for that one brief, shining moment― made absolute and total sense. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that everything was going to be fine. You felt infinitely huge and infinitesimally small at the same time because you knew you were part of everything that ever has been and ever will be. But then fear crept in because you knew it wouldn’t last, it couldn’t last, and so it passed. You were left wondering if you were imagining things or worse, crazy, and a vague feeling of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on lingered.
That unknown feeling, a mix of disappointment and sadness, is called yearning. Yearning for that joy, that certainty to sweep us up and out of ourselves. If only we could sustain that all encompassing happiness, life would be so easy. . . But it is the yearning that makes us human. The striving for something unknowable and greater than our senses perceive is what motivates us to be better, to be the people we already are but just can’t quite believe in. I think those momentary flashes of immense joy are glimpses of what is possible, of waits for us once we finally believe that we deserve it.
I wish I could say I feel this way today but I have had my moments and I will again. Until that day and that moment, I will carry the memory of that feeling with me as a reminder that life is beautiful and strange and surprising and terrible and ridiculous and one heck of a ride. . .
. . . And it will be enough.