I have learned to walk: since then I have run. I have learned to fly, since then I do not have to be pushed in order to move.

Now I am nim­ble, now I fly, now I see myself under myself, now a god dances with­in me.

—Of Reading And Writing, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

A long time ago, maybe almost ten years ago, I met a guy who was the same age as me named Alvin. We got along extreme­ly well, which was a rar­i­ty for me at the time. He was a com­plete enig­ma. There was always an air about him, some­thing in his sta­ble demeanor, that told me he had every­thing fig­ured out. I asked him once, “Do you feel any pain?”. “Only when I want to”, was his response. I could­n’t pos­si­bly under­stand.

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How can I describe this feel­ing? How can I explain? I’ve been look­ing for the right words for so long, but noth­ing comes through. Only images and ideas. Thoughts with­out expres­sion.

All I know is that it feels like I’ve arrived at some­thing, like I’ve final­ly come to a point where I’m com­fort­able with myself. Where I can hurt with­out being sad. Where I can love with­out pain.

The key is under­stand­ing how dis­sat­is­fac­tion breeds improve­ment, how pain breeds hap­pi­ness, how there must be a bal­ance of good and bad, and liv­ing by these beliefs with com­mit­ted indus­try and absolute humil­i­ty. It’s what Taoists express as Yin and Yang, what Nietzsche was say­ing through Zarathustra. And when one’s life goal is self-improve­ment, every­thing falls into place.

Now there is no going back. Now I tru­ly feel like I’m alive.

Now a god dances with­in me.