#reverb10: a bridge full of moments

I signed up for this thing called #reverb10. A month full of prompts guided to help me reflect on this past year and focus on goals for the next.

December 3: Moment.
Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors). (Author: Ali Edwards)

How is it possible to just pick one moment where you feel the *most* alive?  This year hasn’t been great, but I wouldn’t describe it as the worse year ever.  It’s been a bridge year.  And I’m hoping that the bridge finally has be crossing over in 2011 to something pretty awesome.  I’d hate for the mist of the new year to clear and discover I still have another 12 months of bridge to cross.  I want a destination.  A sense of accomplishment.  Some sort of stepping stone — the a check point — to know I’m on the right path and that I’m kicking ass.

I know there’s no right answer to these prompts.  But when you’re trying to reflect on your life, with the ultimate goal of making the next year even better — it’s hard not to come up with these deeply profound responses.  To be the one with their shit together and on this enlightened path to greatness and self-fulfillment.  You sort of want to hate these people who seem to have it together — those enjoying the unconventional life.  The ones who actually seem to know how to do it right.  But there’s no sense in seeking my epiphany in their moments.

This year, as I have mentioned previously, has been a whirlwind of just pressing on.  (A bridge year.)  Yes, there have been some pretty awesome things, but I don’t see one moment shining brighter than the others.  Something that sticks out as “the” moment of 2010.  And though I can’t pick one moment, I wouldn’t say 2010 was a dull year.  I did indeed feel alive.  But it was being alive through what may seem as small things.  It’s not an exact moment, but a set of conditions which provides opportunity for those moments.  All the gears match up and are moving smoothly.  Time doesn’t exist at all during these times.  And yes, even the ducks are in a row — doing the most magnificent and feather-shaking-ist choreography that goes beyond their fowl capabilities.  It’s a complete manic high.  But when everything aligns, when everything just clicks — that’s when I feel the most alive.

You get those “I’m going to rule the world” feelings.  It’s got a rush that I can imagine only love can compare.  You clasp to these moments.  Suckling away at them.  As if without this you would completely dry up and crumble.  That every terrible hyperbole would come true.  But during these moments, nothing can touch you.  You’re invincible.  I’m under the opinion that some of my best works come from such manic highs.  Granted, I do feel I can product equally great works by laboring over them and finessing them into that similar brilliant light.  But nothing can beat that rush.  Where your whole body is electric.

Too many times I’m just scraping and clawing away, hoping maybe I’ll rediscover some grandiose moment from my memory or stumble upon some grand epiphany.  Something that could even hold a light to what I’m sure others will be writing about this month — but that’s obviously not the point of this challenge, nor is it a competition.  But it’s being able to look back and realize that yes, you indeed DID create that.  And yes, that it is indeed freaking awesome.

2010 was not lacking these moments.  They existed in walking hand-in-hand through the zoo.  Watching my now five year old niece enjoy her first rides on the CTA.  In every single Mucca Pazza concert I’ve ever attended.  In cuddling on the couch on a lazy Sunday.  Mixing up and baking tie-died cupcakes.  Dancing with new friends at your best friend’s wedding.  Phone calls just to say “good night”.  Even in leaving the hospital, not sure of what’s still to come, but knowing you’re going to press on.  There’s no simple recipe for these moments.  Finding that one perfect song for that exact moment in time does help, but again it’s all about things falling into place.  And while I continue crossing this bridge, I’ll take any and all of these moments that I can get.