Alive
The most fascinating part of the bus ride to Quito was how alive I felt. As we drove over dirt roads in the cramped bus, we were surrounded on both sides by banana plantations. Though it was dark, I could still make out large, tropical leaves, and every once in a while I saw little shacks casting light on small areas of the fields. When I say I felt alive, I don’t know how else to explain it. I was very aware of everything around me, and I kept thinking, This is what life is all about. My senses seemed heightened, and I felt stripped of everything I have and everything I am — stripped of my complete identity. I became a person who was alive for no other reason than to exist. For a moment no warm, comfortable house awaited me; no friends expected my arrival. I was living on my own, and it was exciting and wonderfully refreshing!
Taken from the journal that I kept while living in Ecuador in 1992.
I’ve been thinking a great deal about the idea of feeling “alive.” I vividly remember sitting on the bus that night in Ecuador 28 years ago, with the window open, feeling the warm, tropical breeze, watching the banana plantations pass by. I felt electric. I remember saying to myself, “This is truly living.” There are many times in my life that I have felt that way; certainly, on the day I married my husband and on the birthdays of each of our children. But many of the times have occurred when I was traveling or living abroad, and usually when I was in nature or gazing on something of great beauty. I felt alive climbing the majestic volcano Cotopaxi in the Andes Mountains. I felt alive walking through the meandering Ness Islands on the River Ness in Scotland. I felt alive riding a bicycle through the winding roads of Normandy and soaking up the magic of Monet’s glorious water garden in Giverny.
But not all of my moments of feeling alive have been happy ones; many have been quite painful. I felt alive as I met with countless doctors when my father was first diagnosed with cancer and, in the end, when I raced to Florida hoping to get to him in time to say goodbye. I felt alive when a friend and I went careening off the highway in a snow storm and almost landed in a ravine. I felt alive as I held the hand of a dear friend only hours before he passed away. And even though these moments were tragic and terrifying, I felt like I was extremely present and aware of living life.
Maybe that’s what all of those moments have in common, both the joyful and the agonizing: They made me pay attention. They woke me from the dream-like state that I had allowed my daily routine to lull me into, and they summoned me into the present to truly experience life. Is it possible, I wonder, to create more of those moments in my ordinary, everyday life? Maybe not ones that are quite so extreme or that cause such elevated levels of emotion, but by focusing my attention and bringing awareness to the everyday, perhaps I could breathe new life into my familiar routine and make my days more distinctive. I’m drawn to what Glennon Doyle says when interviewed on the podcast Good Life Project: “I’m no longer asking myself, What makes me happy? I’m just asking myself, Do I feel alive?” Life isn’t only about the wonderful, joyous times that make us happy; the difficult, challenging times also enrich our lives and compel us to grow. And maybe, if we begin checking in with ourselves and asking the question Do I feel alive? maybe our lives will begin to deepen in wonderful ways unexpected.
Photo by Blue Ox Studio from Pexels
This is so beautiful!! The times I have felt most alive that come immediately to mind are when I’ve been performing or when I witness another performance or piece of art. I find that I feel less alive when I get too much inside my head and sort of start to shut out what’s around me.
I love this comment, Emma!! I can’t imagine how alive you must feel dancing on the stage in front of an audience!! I also feel myself close down when I have too much in my head. Right now it’s a conscious act for me to stay present — I hope someday it eventually becomes the norm. Thank you for commenting!
I love this, Muffet! It’s especially important right now to think this way since our previous way of life has been put on hold indefinitely – or changed forever. You have a beautiful way with words.
Thank you, Monica! I agree – it really is important right now when our lives feel like they’ve been put on hold. Creating moments that make life fuller is so needed.
Hi Muffet, This post is wonderful! I’ve been doing Christmas things. When I think of all I want to do, I start early. Plus doing cooking, household projects, I get so wrapped up in things that I have to stop and go out on my patio, suck in the fresh air, and say hello to the nature world around our apt. The trees, pond and animals we see, bring me back to aliveness. There is certainly more to our spirituality to be more present even if we’re doing the dishes. ha! Your writing is so heart felt. How wonderful you could travel as much as you have. Love you.
I agree, Aunt Vickie, nature always brings me back to aliveness. It’s so nice that you have that right outside of your apartment! And I love your idea about being more present while doing the everyday activities. When I remember to do that, it makes all of the difference in the world. It’s always remembering that I have a hard time with.
You are so right that when you are faced with frightening reality and/or death, you are taken into another dimension. I remember one frightening reality as I slid on an ice covered road headed into the side of a metro bus. Angels stopped me within inches and BOY did I feel alive after that! I can laugh at that now but it reinforces that we must live in the moment and be grateful to be alive.
Oh my gosh, how scary, Arlene! Sometimes I think those moments are meant to be used as reminders — just as you say — kind of like a wake-up call to make sure we’re actually paying attention to life. It would be nice if we could remember to do that without the wake-up calls!