Joy

It couldn’t be helped, I would have to warm up more sake. It’s a laborious process, it involves boiling water and slowly instilling heat into the porcelain container until just a hint of steam can be spied rising from the surface of the liquid. It can’t be microwaved, that sort of method will scare away the spirit of the alcohol, leaving it stale.

I returned to my room, anxious for a refill. That's when I first began to feel it.

Smooth indie music seeped into the room like an aroma from all 5 speakers—we were surrounded, but at a volume that could only be described as flirtatious. I tried my best to not be seduced, but the better part of me kept saying, “just let it happen.”

I had company, as rare as that is. She was the centerpiece, though I never knew my room to be missing something. Somehow it seemed as if there was never a rush, and there never would be again. I felt sane in believing that I had casually stepped outside of the continual flow of time. I stepped out of time and the only thing I brought with me was alcohol. Good alcohol, I had to use my card. I couldn’t allow myself to become too relaxed as it would interfere with the conversation. But she was beautiful and my eyes couldn't look away. Of course, I was going to lose this battle; all of my senses were engaged. I cooly accepted that fact. The fresh spring breeze, still chilled, liberally helped itself into my room. The stage was set. How is it that everything seemed so perfect?

I couldn’t waste anymore time. I would have to burn this moment into my memory. I had to remember what this felt like. When it was over, I would have to be able to find my way back. I’m so happy. I’m so happy, I’ve never felt like this. I didn’t know that I could feel like this.

When a person attains this level of contentment, something strange happens. All of nature is reversed. A once realistic, mildly pessimistic attitude becomes a sort of gracious optimism. Fatigue turns to a passionate energy. A bland pointless existence becomes so meaningful that tears begin to well up in the eyes, ready to fall like impatient children pushing each other down the slide at a park. And nothing is dramatic, no amount of praise or animated description can be construed as too much, at most merely adequate.

Clarity, most of all there is clarity. One can finally see how everything fits together to make a perfect life. A perfect life that seems so fantastical on an ordinary day. But nevertheless, right now, there it is, almost in arms reach. What were once ideals become a simple to-do list. Yes, one can see how they can have it all. There, that’s where belief in God goes, and here, here--true love. There, a family and friends. Oh, and success, there is still room for success, and there--health, and right here, hobbies and all the while personal growth intertwines between them all. Yet one can still see some cracks. They are to be filled with music and cooking and art and reading and culture and nature and laughter. I don’t know why, but at this moment it all feels possible. No, it doesn’t just feel possible—it feels like the only way. Why else would this moment feel so right if it weren’t attainable? Why else would it exist if it could not be enjoyed again?

I’m no longer so naïve as to say that I was falling in love. No, this was bigger than that. It was more than just her, it was the moment. It came all at once like an epiphany, as if it were programmed that on that day at that time, I would experience contentment in its purest form. Of course I still had responsibilities, and worries, and deadlines, but I couldn't remember or else they didn't matter. I couldn't feel anxious if I wanted to. Everything would be alright. Everything was taken care of. All that was required of me was to take it all in. And everything seemed crushing, powerful, like being alive.

I didn’t want to think anymore. My senses were overwhelmed; the music’s toxins had finally penetrated my ears, I could hear nothing, only sound. Sake entered my mouth, cold, but only because it didn’t know me yet, it warmed up to me once I swallowed and marched cheerfully into my stomach with purpose. I took a full breath, filled with perfume and cologne and cold air. It was all too much, and I became drunk with the feeling. At one time I could see all of her, now I was so close I could only see into her eyes. I closed mine, and fell forward.

I haven’t felt that way since.

Towards my final days in college I still had no idea what to expect from life, from the "rest of my life". What would I fill it with? I had some ideas, but they were less than ideals they were pure fantasy and they consisted of a conclusion-- me with it all. Upon entering "the real world" the state it's in is worse than I had feared. And now that I'm an adult I don't have the privilege of blindly believing in the wisdom and honesty of my elders. Now I am horrified to see that no one knows what they're doing. Everyone is always in a panic; there is always a crisis. And there is a certain order to things that, if one is not vigilant in resisting, will suck every last hope and dream out of him and leave him cynical and jaded with the only things on his mind being basic survival for most and money and reputation for the selected few. So this is what they call the real world.

All of the depression, disappointment, and monotony of life slowly eat away at my spirit. The news, the celebrity gossip, politics, and the trivial things that are made into a huge deal—they desensitize me. I don’t feel like I have any part in any of it. It’s more that I don’t care. Day in and day out spending precious moments of life just working, working at something that has nothing to do with you as a person, to the extent that you wonder if there is no purpose. Is it just work, survive as long as you can, and die? All the while, mocked by sayings that go “enjoy the little things” and “find beauty in life.”-- sayings that don’t take into account that there is little time for such pleasantries.

Every so often I feel like giving up. Letting the world take my mind and personality and becoming part of “society”, allowing myself to come second to the demands of the external world and being grateful for the fleeting moments where I feel like my needs are ushered to the front because I have been momentarily overlooked by everything that has a demand of me: Quickly! take a nap, read a book, look at a sunset, now back to your clients. To get a job and have some money, it seems like that's as good as it gets.

But what about that night? I know it was real. That moment in which time stopped and I was allowed to feel like I was being taken care of, that period of time in which I felt I could finally lay down my concerns, rest, and just be a human-- no demands, no responsibilities, no worries, just alive.

Before that night, up until that point, I always had a feeling of mild dissatisfaction. Never truly fulfilled, though I tried to be. And I had no reason not to be. But I was always longing for something more. Now I know that it was that feeling that I was longing for. Since then, I go through the days doing my best to simulate that feeling, laughing, joking, drinking, eating my favorite foods, watching my favorite shows-- anything that will make me feel glad to be alive, but none of it comes close. I'm still left longing for that distinct feeling again, a feeling that was more than happy, more than glad.

A feeling I've only experienced once.