You’ll know what I mean before I finish.

The weather is perfect, or perfectly bad. You’re with friends and family. Time slows and you throb with the lazy pace of it, as if the world was humming to itself. Nearby, someone is cooking and it smells great, smoky, comforting. Maybe you’re playing in the water. Perhaps you’re playing ball with your best friends under the Midnight Sun. Or drinking 40s around a bonfire at the beach. You could be active, or maybe taking slacking to a whole new level. More often than not, music is playing in the background. There could be dancing, there could be kissing. It’s different for everyone.

The specifics vary but the story is the same. There you are, in a day as long as time itself, your worries scared away like pigeons off a statue. You exist as your real self, one rid of concerns about homework, careers, action items, unaccomplished goals, body weight, mortgages, shortcomings, upcoming events, failed romance, minor inconveniences, and the rest of the infinity of crap we load on our own backs. We face the day as perhaps we were meant to, nakedly happy.

I’ve had these days from time to time, and I’ve tried to enjoy them without analyzing. I smile, I rarely say the word “no,” and all things, for that brief time, make a reassuring kind of sense. You can’t force it, but you know when it’s happening.

My brother and I call it “The Feeling.” Our definition was formed during a typical eternal summer day in Alaska, with a meandering sunset keeping watch over dad and his barbecue, smiling Samoyeds happily guarding the estate, and Mom gleefully mixing ketchup and mayo (an unholy fusion which I can easily blame 40 lbs on.) while we and our sister flat-out enjoyed ourselves. As we got older, there was perhaps mild drinking, but no one was wasted, at least on those days.

Later, ours suffered the general atrophy of many American families. We scattered, we each picked up an addiction of some kind (my sister, the luckiest, found ebay), we worked, surviving, barely, yet longing for something with no name. Mine, at least, was a life without form. There were pieces, there were stories. There were many life directions, and there was fun. But that Feeling was painfully absent.

I did what many do - I fashioned a family out of my closest, coolest friends. (I continue to do this.) People need people. And driving to work alone two hours each way to work only to sit in a cubicle for ten hours, then home to eat alone while warily watching your neighbors is no way to foster relationships. American culture is isolating.

I can hear my Dad’s hackles rising. I can hear my brother-in-law’s scorn across the Pacific. I love America. But we’re little people islands - on the freeway, in office buildings, on treadmills with iPods, before a TV, before a computer, on the street, eyes forward, buying groceries online. And it’s only getting worse.

I have cobbled together a great group of friends I see far too infrequently. We have fun when we can, but if you put all of the time we’ll spend together from now until when we die - how much will that be? a week or two? To recapture that feeling, you need a family, a tribe - a pride.

I’ve found that Feeling again in my life. I’m trying to help my friends and family reconnect with it. It’s possible. It’s out there - it never left us - we left it. The first step is to relax. Don’t sweat things. Worry is the polar opposite of the Feeling. Avoid it like the plague. Then surround yourself with your pride. Smile more. Stop, take a deep breath and let the sun/wind/rain/snow wash over you. You’re not in control of the world - let God/Allah/Yahweh/The MCP take care of that. Enjoy the ride.

I recently saw that Feeling in action on a large scale. Hence this long post. My buddy Igor, my family, and I went to a nearby town. My father-in-law’s lion dancing team was hired to come to a village and perform for a couple of hours, to ring in the new year and bring luck and prosperity to the tight-knit community.

Everyone was gathered around the town square, and I mean every single resident of the place. They stood around, smiling, gawking at me and my Eurasian kids, laughing when I took their picture, cheering the acrobatic stunts of the lion dancing and kung fu teams, and, yes, lighting off enough fireworks to alter Earth’s orbit.

It was 80 degrees with a cool rambling wind. (Do you know how rare it is to see blue skies here?) The crowd was keyed up and so were we. Everyone was having a blast, I even started singing Ice Cube’s “Today was a Good Day.” in my head.

After the performances were done, the entire town filed into the square to eat a huge meal together. It’s a New Year’s tradition here. 3000 people, eating a spectacular dinner as one big pride under the dusky blue sky. It brought a tear to my eye. Fireworks followed food and then it was time for me and my small pride to go back to our den, tired and happy as could be, wrapped snugly in the warm blanket of The Feeling. I didn’t even have to use my A.K.

So many days on this trip have contained me asking myself, “Is this Heaven?” And the answer, at each moment, was a resounding “YES.” Because heaven’s not a where, it’s a when, and the Feeling is your escort and host. There you are, old friend - i missed you.