I live for those “I could die right now” moments.
But I don’t mean the saccharine amorous encounters like meeting the love of your life (or even just someone who can make you explode spontaneously in your pants). I mean being in the store when a violent fight breaks out. Or getting stranded miles from home without your car when you spot a tornado. Or digging your own grave in the desert because you pissed off your Mexican drug dealer
You know, I may be on a spiritual path, but there’s a reason for that. Suffice it to say – you don’t need to keep adding sugar to something that’s already sweet.
So sometimes it takes exciting that intrinsic darkness to keep my inner light ignited.
Fortunately for me, I was gifted with a drop of this awe-elixir today while in Old Town Occoquan. Nothing major, but a fun camera capture nonetheless.
Upon arrival, I wasn’t surprised to see the town was partially flooded. It’s been raining all week and only today did my shih-tzu and I halt the building of our exquisite and exclusive ark (to which only dogs would be permitted entry – if they get along with mine) for when the waters finally rose up to my second floor window.
Nonetheless, the synchronistic “zing” moment of Patriot Scuba being submerged in river water wasn’t lost on me – or the news anchor who heard my cheesy “Aqua-quan” one-liner and said, “Oh that’s good.”
(To be fair, through the Botox, I couldn’t tell if she was being sardonic or making a mental note to plagiarize me later on the 5 O’clock news).
Yet, as I walked toward the left side of town, I realized the flooding had gotten pretty fierce. It was like a miniature foot-of-Niagra, the way the spray was coming at me. Cars were parked perilously close to the lapping waves, furniture floated in stairwells, and the bridge at the end of town was all but drenched in the gush of water.
Naturally, I headed to that bridge to bask in the massive hydraulic force pummeling the feeble supports on which it (and I now) stood. Mesmerizing, it was! The video doesn’t do it justice, but it’s never this high, the color of baby diarrhea, or coming atchya like a freight train.
I must have been there for a while, hypnotized by the combination of the cool air coming off the deafening torrents and the resulting turbulence of the quaking structure – the only thing between life and my tsunami style execution. There’s something about being on the precipice of your own watery demise and feeling death’s misty kiss that’s totally humbling.
Maybe that’s what adrenaline junkies are after – that capacity to go home and appreciate the tranquility of trees, sunsets, and the miniature creatures you’ve created again… ’cause you just freefell into an alligator pit. Which is a typical Sunday morning for you.
After a while of ruminating on this, a young man came up and uneasily said, “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here. It’s pretty shaky.”
“I know!” I agreed, “If this thing collapsed, we’d be done!”
Now, I’m not sure what kind of look I gave or tone I said this in – but I must have failed to conceal my congenitally passionate morbid fascination during the delivery. ’cause his slight head turn and raised eyebrows said it all. And they were enough for me to question my sanity and reluctantly head back home.
After putting back on my pants, of course.