By Will Scott

I used to think the feeling of being fully alive only came in exceptional moments: A near-death experience, a triumphant achievement, an orgasm, a time of great loss, an instance of inexplicable synchronicity, a moment in love, being in the ‘zone’ or on the edge of some great something towards which you know you must move… Or that one time, when the thunderstorm and the sunset intermingled in the high desert air and all things became electric and inspirited and the purple-gold light seemed to emanate from within things rather than resting upon them.

I chased those sorts of moments. I courted them. I even tried to corner them—navigating my life into places where I was most likely to be zapped by something that lifted me beyond the monotony of me.