I Might Cry

20 JANUARY 2025

June 27, 2020. A Rhododendron blooming which I snapped a photo of while hiking with my family.

In the shower, I glance at the tiny bubbles shining on my strong legs, and I might cry. I walk around the lake, marveling at the deep, indescribably unique blue of the sky, and I might cry. I breathe heavily while running, each inhale drawing in oxygen produced by the plants’ photosynthesis, each exhale releasing carbon dioxide that the plants take back. This beautiful circular relationship might make me cry. I laugh with my good friend. I haven’t seen her in months because we’ve been apart in different colleges. We catch up on four months’ worth of stories, and I might cry. 

I think of Emily from Thornton Wilder’s play, Our Town, and how she says, “Oh earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do human beings ever realize life while they live it–every, every minute?” I also remember what the Schuyler sisters sing in the musical Hamilton: “Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now!” These thoughts lead me to a phrase comprised of everything I’ve ever read and experienced: Dear God, what a life! What a wonder it is to be alive in the good mystery of things. 

In these moments of living and doing, I feel a sense of wholeness and satisfaction. What is this emotion? Is it joy? Grief? Understanding? Gratitude? All of the above? Or perhaps something I don’t yet have the words for? I don't know. 

However, what I do know is this: while I am engaged in washing, running, breathing, talking and laughing, I feel this way. Yet afterward, when I return to my air-conditioned house, the feeling fades. When I start to reflect on my experiences, sometimes the joy diminishes. I have wanted to write about this concept for years, but it took me a long time to understand it. This wonderful feeling–this indescribable blend of joy, contentment, satisfaction, and flow–comes from the act of doing and experiencing rather than from thinking. I must live. While living a thoughtful, examined life is very important to me, I am realizing that too much introspection can be counterproductive. As Mary Oliver elucidated in her poem, I Worried: 

Finally, I saw that worrying had come to nothing.

And gave it up. And took my old body

and went out into the morning,

and sang.

So, I’ll keep running, washing, laughing, and living–because the joy is in the doing. 

What makes you feel deeply alive? What do you think of this post? If you would like, please comment below!