How to breathe?

I'm a feeling junkie. I'm an experience junkie. I'm a junkie for creating. I'm a junkie for being born again, each moment. I'm a junkie for touching others, moving them. I'm a junkie for letting others see how I transform. I need it, I breathe it, I refuse to let go.

This openness feeds me, it waters me, it makes me vibrate life. When I'm surrounded by only surfaces, when I'm forced to close my doors, when there is no fire breathing inside me, out of me, around me, through me. I die. Numb, cold, indifferent. One dimensional.

When the doors are closed, I'm drained of energy. Forced to watch the world, only seeing, forced to react without connection, forced to act without reason, forced to hide without compassion. Every single word, every single touch, every single expression drains me dry, leaves me hollow, pushes me into a corner.

I myself have to open up, to push through, to demand, to open cracks to let air in for the fire to breathe inside. One single spark is enough. It is an avalanche, a breaking dam, a collective hysteria. Welcome, overpowering, beautiful. And in a snap I'm alive again. Breathing the irresistible urgency of emotion and intellect intertwined.

Now to know where to go to find it, where to look to see it, to know how to think to understand it, what to do to create it. The problem of a lifetime. The mystery of the human soul. The answer to the ultimate question. The spark. Not where, not when, not who, not why. The spark. How to be it?