but life, in essence, is something that we should all be in love with, and i think we all are, whether we realize it or not. you might say, "what about people who commit suicide? they hate life." but the truth is that they don't hate life, and they don't want to die—they just want their pain to end. if God came down and said to someone who was about to kill themselves, "wait! if you don't do it, i'll make your life perfect and full of happiness", they aren't going to say to him, "no, i just hate life in general. it sucks. i just want to be dead because being alive is stupid."
and when someone says something like, "she's so full of life!" no one thinks, "sucks to be her" because we know that being full of life is a good thing.
we know that LIFE is a good thing. life is being. life is breathing. life is when you feel alive. you know those moments when the whole world seems to sparkle and you can feel your own energy, your own electricity, in your brain and your toes and everywhere in-between and you know that if you were to suddenly fall down dead it would be all right? those moments are rare, but i know i've experienced them and i'd like to believe everyone does at some point. because that's life, or at least something very close to life. it isn't always a happy feeling—you may experience it at your lowest point—but it's life, and regardless of your emotional state, you know that it's good because you feel alive.
it's like the scene in Fight Club when the narrator is in the passenger seat of a car that Tyler is driving into oncoming traffic. he starts freaking out, screaming and swearing, and eventually gets Tyler to move back into the right lane. but then Tyler starts yelling, saying, "look at you! you're pathetic. stop trying to control everything and just. let. go. LET GO!"
the narrator, having no choice but to comply, says, "alright, fine" and Tyler, returning his gaze to the road, says, "fine." they sit in silence as Tyler starts to drive the car off the road. in slow motion we see them crash into a parked car; we see them slide over the edge of the embankment and roll down a hill into a ditch, landing up-side down.
when Tyler emerges from the vehicle dragging the bloody and injured narrator, he laughs and says, "we just had a near-life experience!"
it's that kind of thing, you know... it's letting go because you know you can't control it, and, by letting go, allowing yourself to experience life for what it really is—not the things that happen to you or the people you know or the emotions you feel, but pure, unadulterated life.
there's this great book called Jesus' Son and probably my favorite passage from it is this:
Down the hall came the wife. She was glorious, burning. She didn't know yet that her husband was dead. We knew. That's what gave her so much power over us. The doctor took her into a room with a desk at the end of the hall, and from under the closed door a slab of brilliance radiated as if, by some stupendous process, diamonds were being incinerated in there. What a pair of lungs! She shrieked as I imagined an eagle would shriek. It felt wonderful to be alive to hear it! I've gone looking for that feeling everywhere.
maybe that seems sick, or cruel... but it's not really about the pain of the wife over the death of her husband. it's about having a confrontation with life and having nowhere to run, no excuses to make, so you just let go and you take it for what it is, in it's most pure and raw form, underneath all the layers of language and connotation and conscious thought, and it's beautiful even when it's terrible because it makes you feel wonderful just to be alive.
i imagine it's the way a drowning person feels right before they breathe the water into their lungs.
it's an epiphany. it's the moment of truth. it's complete and total surrender.
it's as close as we can come to the Garden of Eden, to the way Adam and Eve felt before the existence of death.
i think that sometimes the people who are the most in love with life are the most sad, too, because their days are spent in search of that feeling and they're afraid that all they will ever get are brief glimpses and fleeting moments.
and maybe that is all they'll ever get—in this world, anyway. but that's better than the disenchanted apathy of all the people who never mean to wake up in the morning because they've tricked themselves into believing that life is the enemy. these people just exist.
i don't want to just exist.
i don't want anyone to just exist, because everyone should have at least a few near-life experiences.