There is a question I keep asking myself. Not just lately – but almost always. Why am I doing this? It’s a question you should, or at least I will ask myself about almost everything. There are so many things that are driven by needs. Questions that drown the passion you once had, overrides the impulse to get in contact ‘with that one thing’ that burns and braids in your soul.
Why am I waking up each morning around 5am to prepare myself for work. The bowl of cereal. The haunted dark under my eyes that only seems to spread as I grow older. The receding hair line and the tired ‘I’m to old for this shit’ look as my reflection scares me of the reality that grows, fester and mold around me. Becomes me. The spreading gray in my small beard.
But then there are those moments. Like a sputtering engine darting into life. Like the one hit with a flint that feeds the fuel that ignites the fire. The spark. That one moment – the crystal clear moment when you feel that even when you know the story, it speaks to you in a new way. When you know all the turns. Calculating the probability of success. Where you feel like everything you do is more muscle memory than skill. That one moment when you feel instead of know what is head of you.
The one that makes you stop. That makes you park the car and step out. That one moment when the springs frozen shadows gives away for a hot sun streaking across the speckled green of your grass as you juggle your backpack, coffee mug and everything else. The one that makes you leave the car door open and the radio morning prattle turn into distant noise. Because there, a sullen sun ignites the heaving like the rising phoenix. Or dies in the evening in the ember of heavens final crumbling bonfire. And you can feel it embrace your skin. Hug your face. Warm your soul. Ignite something inside you that you haven’t felt for a while.
Those are the moments why I do what I do. From the early 21’s to the 25’s. A streak of quests, sagas and a muddle of story lines that blurs into the afterthought as goals become ‘that one quest line, that one saga’. Where 21 gives away to 22 and then gears become this and the slot becomes that. Where points are distributed, ideas are evolved and enhancements or destiny strategies feel like statistical polling.
Then that moment grabs you and you forget that you made what was a discovery into work. That there are moments – in real life and in games. That chase away the awful reality of the cogs that moves us. And bedazzles us once more. And gives you tranquility of the unknown.