I feel most alive when I am most in awe. It could be a work of art, a page of a book, a beautiful or beloved person, a force of nature. To be confronted with that which is so novel as to force ourselves to think and understand something new about the world and, therefore, ourselves. It is to forget everything else but for that moment in time and simply behold what we could never imagine.
There are other times, rarer, when I find myself so content by being with the people I love, knowing they are also happy, and simply enjoying the pleasure of our mutual company, that I feel immensely grateful to be alive and to know that those I love feel the same way.
August evenings just as the sky turns to a peach pink haze, the heat of the day begins to fade. Fresh corn and cold steak, good beer and homemade salsa. On the verandah with friends, watching the sun slowly fade and then hang, as if the gloaming will never end. Time stops for just a little while as conversations held in shorts and t-shirts wander happily far into the lantern-lit night.
