I was listening to Jose Gonzales' Far Away which starts with the lyrics
♪ Step in front of a runaway train, just to feel alive again
- Buddy of mine has six motorcycles. We both ride in LA traffic every day. We independently came to the same conclusion - riding a motorcycle in LA traffic is the only way to be truly mindful, to be truly present in this city. If you're driving, you're tuned out (and probably stoned - you would not believe what the 405 smells like at rush hour). If you're a passenger, you're elsewhere. But on a motorcycle? "*pay fucking attention to everything that is going on around you or you might die.*" That choice - to commute in a dangerous and high-attention way - is one of the few things that actually keeps you present.
I thought it might be an interesting question to ask hubski: when have you last felt truly alive, truly present? Throwing yourself out there, really feeling life as it happens; whether it is because of real danger, perceived danger or neither. The intense experience of living.
I might have said this somewhere, but I'm a huge rollercoaster nut. Last year, I finally got to ride the best rollercoaster in the country. To end the day, I rode it backseat, which always gives the best airtime on a ride.
What an intense experience: here I was, plummeting 160 feet down, not touching my seat anymore and only being held by a one-foot steel lapbar. And that was only the start of the ride. Every cell in my body felt on fire afterwards. I've rarely felt that alive.
So what about you?