Whenever I read about some human that has accomplished something extraordinary, something unexpected and odds-defying, I feel something that I can only describe as life energy.
One part of it is excitement. Another is possibility. Another is hope.
The first time I remember feeling this, I was reading Ayn Rand when I was fifteen. [1] A lot of people give Ayn Rand crap, but I think she managed to do something extraordinary, which is capture human potential in words. Like when she writes about Howard Roark overlooking the New York City skyline and envisioning his version of it.
The second time, I was flying home at night in a window seat. I looked down as we were touching down in Toronto, and was stunned that sheer human volition had built the network of bright golden lights below me.
It's the same feeling whenever I visit Sausalito and look at the houses built up the hill. Some people did that, I think. Some people said fuck this hill, I'm going to plant a house on it.
It is this force that drives me to do things like run long distances and chase after achievements.
I think we all have a shred of this energy in us. Even the most jaded person has some piece of this hope, and that's why even the most jaded person will be momentarily awestruck at a beautiful painting or a sweeping cityline.
The more I think about it, the more I believe that this feeling I am trying to describe is literal life energy. As in, it's what separates the living from the not-dead.
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