Exhilaration Is Not Acceleration

I used to think that a happy way to get an adrenalin rush included activities such as riding a thrilling roller coaster:  buckle up and hang on with white knuckled hands. Or riding in an airplane that goes through a long stretch of turbulent air, lunging downward then bouncing upward again, as if tethered to a god-sized rubber band…Or driving up a windy mountain road with precipitous edges…Or a short fast sprint out in the cold air playing chasing games with my dog, or being chased by a playful buddy… Somehow that edge between safety and risk, which invariably included my body moving quickly through space, became synonymous with exhilaration. Of course, there is the other side of that energy which is that moment when the exhilaration turns the corner to something unpleasant; then it isn’t the least bit fun and all that excitement is now anxiety and unpleasantness:  somebody gets hurt in the chase; the passenger across the aisle begins to vomit from the turbulence; the mountain pass becomes icy; the roller coaster is shut down for repairs…

This morning I had a plan; I had already crafted, drafted, conjured and pondered the contents for today’s blog. But one small decision in my morning changed everything:  Opening the box which contained a book that a dear friend had briefly shown to me, that I knew I must read (without really understanding why); that I acquired through sleuthing discovery and then a phone message to - and subsequent conversation with - a stranger, the co-author; and then taking the time to slowly read the opening chapters and today’s daily entry…all the while looking at the clock tick far beyond my start time for writing and work, but all the while also slowly savoring every paragraph as I read, the book lying gently in my robed lap, hands resting gently on the edges of the page…I knew about what I must write.

Exhilaration.

I went outside in my excitement.

After sinking my hands deep in the mud where my dog likes to lie nestled next to the house and protected by bushes, having had to crawl in there like a dog, to fit in the narrow passageway made by and for dogs, I discovered that what I expected would be soggy mud, thick, gooey, cool and soft, ended up being very sandy (sea meets land in an instant and an unlikely place). I discovered that the bushes through which I crawled had buds just ripe with opening. 

After all that, I came in to wash the mud prints off my hands so I could sit down at this computer keyboard to write today’s actual entry. And mint-scented soap in hands, lather gathering, I hear the words:  exhilaration is not acceleration.

I knew exactly what this meant, somehow. And experiences from my week suddenly piled up, memories at my feet waiting to be picked up, given attention.

Every single one of these offered me a thrilling adrenalin rush, deep and abiding joy. And none of them had an iota of acceleration or physical adventure; all of them lasted only moments or minutes.

·         Smoothing my hand gently over a just-glued photograph on a collage of brightly-arranged pieces

·         Opening my new book with tenderness and feeling every word over which my eyes pass sear and soothe my heart

·         The moment when a wise mentor, who has just arrived back home after many weeks, saw me enter the bakery yesterday… and the shining smile that transformed her face into a beacon

·         A glance at the photograph stuck to my fridge, given to me by a friend because she knew I loved it:  god rays pouring down from behind thick ashen clouds turning the photograph golden

·         My dog’s soft breath on my face this morning as she rested her head atop my cheek

·         The instant my electronic receipt popped up on my computer screen yesterday, signaling my completion of a pipedream application; in that very breath I knew outcome did not matter…in that breath I knew that I had achieved something…in that exhalation I believed that it was my destiny to toil over the process with a piercing intrinsic reward rather than to delete it from my to-do list, which I almost did last weekend

·         The eagle who flew high in the sky at the edge of my windshield, for whom I pulled off the road, to whom I paid homage in silent observation

·         Twice as I held the hands of dear ones this week:  the first, in ultimate unity as I felt her heart’s Loneliness with undeniable clarity; the other as I felt her trembling palm after a scary physical trauma

·         The flash of bird feathers darting just past my window as I type this

·         The elation of unexpected response (from the Divine?) to my editing query:  the word my fingers type that shifts the entire landscape of the piece

·         One particular inhale, during one particular pose, during one particular yoga session in which the world is shining peace

·         Liquid mercury flowing toward my feet at the shoreline, licking the toe of my boots

And it occurs to me as I hold these simple yet profound pieces of daily experience, as the swatches of my week come together, memories gathered from my feet near the sink, that exhilaration – the absolute presence of blood coursing wildly through my body, thumping my heart and veins in ecstatic drumbeat – is an internal movement. It does not have to involve movement of my body through space. It has everything to do with stillness and receptivity.

Close your eyes for a minute. Let your thoughts go for a few seconds. Call to a recent memory of an experience during which you felt exhilarated; ask that memory to stand in your presence right now. Is “exhilarated” too strong a feeling? Try “excited.” No? - “Joy?” Not that, either? How about “happy.” If none of those fit for you, simply search within yourself for that one instant in which you felt everything was in absolute harmony, nothing to fear, nothing over which to fret. Try “peacefulness!” 

All blog photographs taken by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted.