When I’m writing research, synthesizing information – when disparate pieces of data are connected and suddenly form meaning, suggest a story that did not exist there ’til that moment – there are always these pounding pauses when I have to make slow, exalted exhales. Can’t move straight on to the next thing, although Time is pressing. Must keep moving.
It is a definitive kind of happiness. Followed by humility tempering the exaltation, asking, are you sure? What might others have to say about this? How might others interpret this differently?