Intensely Alive

Today I skied at Mt. Snow with some friends. We had different schedules for the evening so I'd followed them up in my car. I left early and on the way home I was driving through Bennington, Vermont and had just stopped at a red light when my iPod started to play the song "Feels so Good" by Chuck Mangione, master of the flugelhorn (think 'oversize trumpet').

There's a minute and a half intro that's often not played on the radio. It's a slow, mournful horn solo preceding the upbeat, joyful rhythm for which the song is known. The first three notes of the solo take six seconds. By the time he's played the eighth note I've got a smile on my face and tears running down my cheeks. They're still running ninety seconds later when the fading horn is overpowered by the introduction of a sizzling guitar riff and then the upbeat rythym of percussion instruments.

What just happened? I don't know, but I don't worry about it. I don't having the grieving feeling that I used to have but on very rare occasions I seem stunned by the beauty of things. I always felt I had a knack for appreciating nature's wonder - a colorful sunset, a roaring brook. Now there's an emotional side of me that can just rise to the surface and bare itself. It feels like being intensely alive. Intensely connected to everything. I wouldn't trade the feeling for anything. It seems like a privilege earned through battle.