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How I Became a Famous Pickup Artist : Part 3

This is part of an ongoing series. If you haven't read them already, read :

How I became a Famous Pickup Artist Part 1
and
How I became a Famous Pickup Artist Part 2

I wrote out this entire post before, and then the computer crashed and I lost it all, so I haven't felt like working on it. Finally, I'm biting the bullet and starting over :

To be a Weary Pilgrim: The Longing for Astonishment

On S.M. SANDERS

Can you remember the last time you were awestruck—that you were moved in your shoes by something so outside yourself that the experience could only be called “religious?”

I can recall only a few times in my life that I have felt that held breath, heart-dense shift of self (mental and physical): the birth of my son, or the first kiss I had with my (future) wife were some good ones. I also have negative experiences of the same type: the first sight of my dad’s mother (Grandma) on her death bed, or a particularly intense camp meeting sermon at night in the middle of a national forest in Tennessee.

These experiences—good or bad—all have that same shattering effect: an electric current running through the limbs, dancing across the skin; the feeling that the air has solidified about you and jolted your entire body back in your tracks by a half foot, only for you to try to move and find that you have frozen in place; that the world that was is no more and never again will it be exactly as you had known it.

I can only describe this as being awestruck, perhaps as being a religious experience.

I know that most definitions of the “religious experience” say that one must feel at one with the universe, or at least to feel at peace with it. Also, that one must feel that he (or she) is elevated by it. But, I feel that the state of being “awestruck” should be included in those definitions. For, at those times, I feel very close to something bigger than myself, even in those “negative” experiences.

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