There are people that you know, you just know, that if you met them you'd feel that thing. That subtle click of easy compatability, of moment-by-moment understanding, of eager rhythm, of total yes. People that see the world with the same set of eyes and heart that you do.
These are the kind of people you lock eyes with across a crowded room at a party when something awful or funny or sad just happened in another corner. Right then you look up in embarassment and catch this person's eye, and they know exactly what you're thinking, and you know exactly what they're thinking, and the relief that floods your chest is big and warm. In that moment the world feels a little less like chaos and a little more like art.
That feeling is terribly rare. I've learned that when you find it, you should grab it with both fists, no holding back. What's the point of restraint, anyway? Life is so stupidly short and senseless. Moments like that - people like that - sometimes feel like the entire point. They are my navigation in the dark.
If I met the writer of this op-ed piece in the New York Times, I'm sure I'd feel that thing.
Read it here: On Being Not Dead
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