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I am currently reading Tom Robbins' Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. It is wonderful. At one point in this novel he writes, "Our brains permit us to utilize such a wee fraction of their resources that, in a sense, everything we experience is a reduction." Although the book is borrowed from the library, I underlined the sentence. I think that everyone who comes in contact with this particular book should evaluate that sentence carefully. In fact, I think that everyone who comes in contact with this blog post should evaluate that particular sentence.

Lately I have been contemplating living life to the fullest, in excess even. I have been repressing, my already, reduced experiences. I do not always do this, but over the past couple of years I have certainly been guilty of it. I have always been in favor of granting myself the freedom to truly live, even if it means putting myself through heartache, serious heartache.

Some people will tell you that this mode of living is lacking self-respect. I should say that my mother would tell you something like that. I disagree. The life that is lacking self-respect is the life of the bystander. One who is always trying to protect herself, will never truly love or live. I sometimes wonder about my mother's life. I wonder if she can look back at it and pin point the moments of rapture. I wonder if she were to do such a thing, how many she would find. And even in those moments, was she truly letting go of everything else?

I'd prefer to feel immense amounts of pain for a few glorious moments. I hope to be the elderly lady with all of the beautiful tales of life and love. I want to weave my life through paths seldom trod; I want to live passionately. I want to feel others' pain and joy. I want to experience my own triumphs with the ecstasy of a child. I want to see the world anew each morning. I refuse to allow myself to be stifled in any way.

A dear friend recently told me that living passionately comes with great bouts of depression. I know this to be true. I recently watched a film called Waking Life. In this film a man says something to this effect: People are either depressed because they realize that life is passing them by or because they have truly experienced life.

I'd like to think that I will always be in the latter category. I feel truly sorry for the persons who are on the middle ground. They are content to live the way that they are told to live. The person who never thinks for himself, never feels anything he has not witnessed another feel. That is a sad existence.