Damn, Life is Weird and Sometimes Intense, but also Beautiful, and Damn, What a Ride

Damn. Life is weird and sometimes intense, but also beautiful, and damn, what a ride.

Damn, Life is Weird and Sometimes Intense, but also Beautiful, and Damn, What a Ride.

Have you ever had this feeling when you’re going about your day, entirely in the zone, accomplishing tasks, then suddenly, a buzz flows through you, and you feel the moment more clearly than before, and you realize how deep it goes?

It’s like looking up into a planetarium and seeing how much is out there. Or it’s like an abyss, but it’s not a falling into nothing but a landing right into the moment with every detail in 20/20. It’s a realization of the infinity that lives in the present moment.

This feeling may indicate that I’m not always present but is anyone? I have no idea. The moment can hit me with a big body buzz and whirring in my ear drums. It’s like entering a vortex, but it happens when my mind is elsewhere, and I’m not expecting it, like while doing the laundry or washing my hands.

At that moment, the present buzzes through me, and I remember that life is happening and life isn’t just checking the boxes, saying I’ve finished the task. It’s something so much bigger than that. In buzzing moments such as this, I remember that we are only here for a short time.

That’s quite a powerful buzz for a gal trying to tidy up the home. But what is living, and what do I want it to be? Present?

The other night, at dinner, I was reaching across the table for a bowl of fruit, and the present moment hit me, buzzed through me, and felt like, “Whoa.” There was no denying it.

When buzzing like this, I must step back, slow down, look around, and take it all in. That’s what presence does to a person: it opens the door to the depth of a second in time.

In these present moments, nothing appears as humdrum and so easy to overlook as another insignificant act, like reaching across the table for a fruit bowl. Instead, everything swells with God and overflows with vibrating juices. It’s all sacred and impermanent.

This same buzzing happened the other day too. It happens often, but this is another example I can recall. I was walking into the grocery store with my dad, and it hit me, buzzed through me, and whirred across my ear drum—the friendly reminder of a vortex that dropped me back into the moment.


A couple of dozen other folks surrounded my dad and me, all walking into the grocery store, each in our zones and lives, experiencing our problems, emotions, missions, and thoughts, and the buzz rushed through my body. Suddenly I was so deep in the moment.

There, in the moment, I notice every detail of what is happening around me. My senses are open, and feeling the whole room.

Is this just presence? I have been present before, but this is the feeling when I’m not entirely present, so I need a little drop through the vortex to land where I am and to remember that I am here.

So, when walking into the grocery store with my dad, this feeling came over me, and I looked at my dad and said, “Life is weird.”

And he said, “Talk about weird,” as Dr. Leo Marvin says to Bob in What about Bob. Has anyone seen this?

So I talked about it. I said, “So many of us are going about our days, getting one thing done then another, so we can close out the day having completed our tasks. Sometimes it feels like we forget that none of this is permanent. We have convinced ourselves that we will be here forever, waking up, having our morning coffee, running to the grocery store, completing tasks, thinking about the future, or dwelling on the past. Or is that just me? The human experience can feel so real, too real, until I snap out of it and remember that not all this is what it seems.

I felt the same way when reaching for the bowl of fruit. A seemingly regular movement, but then I was buzzed out of the normalcy of it all and remembered that I am here on earth for a time, and there is so much to feel in a day, not to mention an hour, minute, second.

I was reaching across the table for a bowl of fruit, beautiful, sweet fruit while sitting at a table with people I will only see for a time of my life. But I have spent so many moments with them that it can feel like it could last forever, but it won’t.

Of course, it won’t.

I don’t mean to sound bleak, but it’s true.

It’s a great reminder. Because moments here are sacred, fleeting, and packed to the brim, but this isn’t forever.

As a younger person, I would experience this buzz that moved me into the present moment, but it felt heavy and loud with my senses heightened. I didn’t know how to help my body handle it all. I didn’t know what to do with it. So I avoided it. When I got older, I would drink. When I was a kid, I would watch too much tv or scream or run away.

For many years this feeling scared me. It felt too honest. It asked more of me than I could handle. I didn’t want to know of my impermanence and all the things that don’t last forever. I didn’t want to feel the whole truth of the moment with all its textures and vibrations. It was so intense.

Though I never consciously thought about those things. It was just a feeling that surged through me that I tried to run from as fast as possible. I’m not the only one who has run from the buzz and truth of it all.

So what changed? Why do I now find this feeling exciting, empowering, and no longer scary? Honestly, it can sometimes feel challenging or intense, especially if caught in the right moment or off guard. But all that is part of life—the ebbs and flows, the buzzes and vibrations, and the fear.

Talking about it helps. Knowing I’m not the only one who has felt this way or experiences this buzz helps, too. Believing that the moment is rich helps.

And how I see it, at least I get the opportunity to know that nothing is forever. I can sit with this knowing and do what I want with it, like soak up the moment and taste the fruit I eat with dinner. I can feel the deep emotions of the room and connect with those around me. Slow down enough to chew and experience the textures, flavors, and smells of it all. Eat so slowly that I breathe between bites and converse with the people across from me.

I can mosey through the grocery store rather than rush, and I can crack a joke rather than take everything so seriously. I can say hi to the employees at the store even though it’s second nature for me to go through self-checkout and interact solely with a machine.

And, I can remember that this is my life. I am here experiencing life on earth as a human with all its beautiful complexities. Why not experience all of it? The feelings and sound and buzzes through the body?

At the end of the day, at least we’re not alone in this. We’re all in the same boat. And isn’t this the perfect reminder that we are all more similar than we are different?

We are all humans living here on earth for a time, navigating whatever comes our way, feeling weird sometimes and feeling excited at times, and all of it can overlap and feel like a lot, but then we can step back and say,

“Damn. Life is weird and sometimes intense, but also beautiful, and damn, what a ride.”


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