I am currently reading An American Childhood by Annie Dillard. She talks about her awakening and growing awareness of herself as a child this way:
“Who could ever tire of this heart-stopping transition, of this breakthrough shift between seeing and knowing you see, between being and knowing you be? it drives you to a life of concentration, it does, a life in which effort draws you down so very deep that when you surface you twist up exhilarated with a yelp and a gasp.
Who could ever tire of this radiant transition—this surfacing to awareness and this deliberate plunging to oblivion—the theater curtain rising and falling? Who could tire of it when the sum of those moments at the edge—the conscious life we so dread losing—is all we have, the gift at the moment of opening it?”
I’ve had a few of these moments lately, moments of yelps and gasps, moments that feel like a gift at the moment of opening it.
Also, I love Annie Dillard’s writing. So beautiful.