the possibility of being moved

as both consumer (of books, music, movies, etc.) and creator (of blog posts, poetry, etc.), i sometimes forget the joy that draws us to consuming and creating in the first place: those spiritual moments when we exist most fully, lodged squarely in a moment, when we are humbly on earth, hopelessly in heaven and hysterically in hell all at once.  Dana Stevens wisely notes, when recalling a scene from It Might Get Loud in which Jimmy Page is really getting into a song (only listening, not playing), that "It's a lifelong task for an artist, and for us critics as well, to stay open to the possibility of being moved."

it gets harder and harder to have these transcendent experiences, though, the more one approaches consuming and creating with diligence and practice.  (i recoil, too, at the thought of what the former can do to the latter, a la Amy and Laurie of Little Women being put off of painting and music, respectively, because they cannot compete with the genius of the masters.)  the transcendent experiences seemed to happen with more frequency--or perhaps only with more miracle and surprise--when we didn't know how much work was involved, or when we didn't realize that joy could be one's purpose in life.  it was magical when consuming and creating was a diversion, something naughty, like flirting or passing notes in class, to distract us from the "real" work of life, whether it be chemistry homework or college applications or clerical tasks.

it was better when it made us truant.

but now that i sometimes entertain a devotion to the poetic, and now that it seems like it's my job to inspire and be inspired, it takes much more to budge this heavy philosophical soul, this critical mind that now has roots in theory and experience.  though i search my memories, i cannot recall the last encounter i had with Rapture.  when was the last time you were moved?