Fleeting

As I proofread the final version, the second edition of Out in the Garage, listening to Badfinger's Straight Up, I read the words I have written, and I know, I know--it is like I have reached a new stage of enlightenment.  I feel the waves pulsating through my system, my skin tingles, and I inhale, and feel buoyant, closing my eyes and feeling the sunshine on my face, like I am floating on a pool, and the sky above is as blue as the water below.  Taking it apart, thinking about the best way to fit the pieces together, taking out the pieces that make grotesque the picture, beautiful, and I feel I have captured what has eluded me for so long.  I have no regrets.  I have come this far, and I will see it through to completion, and I know, I know, I am on the right path.  Maybe it's the season, the weather, that I am reaching multiple climaxes at the same moment--the end of school, the end of this book--but I feel so damn fantastic right now.  Life is a struggle, a painful battle through darkness and chaos, but, every once and while, sometimes when you are with loved ones, sometimes in a crowd of complete strangers, sometimes at home, alone, on a Friday afternoon, listening to good music, that everything seems purposeful, proper, exact, and your struggles seem worthwhile.  While it might be a momentary reprieve from the chaos, but it is in these moments, these bubbles of enlightenment, that make life worthwhile--even if the feeling is only fleeting.  Life is fleeting, and if you can somehow manage to string together enough of these moments, in hindsight, everything won't seem so bad.  Everything won't seem so unnecessarily difficult, and life will have some sort of meaning, whether it actually does or not.  In these sorts of moments, capture that feeling, and try to not let it slip away from you--even though it inevitably will.  Never forget it.