People are so crazy about extreme sports. The rush is such a high

“People are so crazy about extreme sports. The rush is such a high that you want to experience it again.” Thus spoke Rubina Dilaik, the artist and adventurer of spirit, revealing through her words not merely a fascination with thrill, but a glimpse into the timeless hunger of the human soul. For within this simple observation lies an ancient truth — that mankind has always sought the edge of existence, where life and death, fear and freedom, collide. Her words echo not just the excitement of sport, but the deeper mystery of why we are drawn to test the limits of our own being.

The origin of this quote arises from the modern fascination with extreme sports — skydiving, mountain climbing, surfing, and the countless ways in which humans dare to defy gravity and danger. Yet beneath the adrenaline and spectacle lies something profoundly spiritual. The rush that Rubina speaks of is more than a physical sensation; it is the awakening of the spirit, a remembrance that we are alive. For in the face of risk, every breath becomes precious, every heartbeat becomes thunder, and the trivial worries of daily life vanish like mist before the sun. The one who leaps from the cliff or rides the roaring wave is, for a moment, free — untamed, unchained, fully awake to the miracle of existence.

From the dawn of time, humankind has sought this high, this state of transcendence. The warriors of old knew it in the roar of battle; the monks knew it in the silence of prayer; the sailors knew it when they braved the wrath of the sea. It is the same force that led Icarus, in Greek legend, to take flight with wings of wax and feather, longing to soar beyond the limits of men. Though his wings melted in the sun and he fell, his story endures as a symbol of our eternal yearning to reach beyond what is safe, to touch the divine even at the risk of destruction. Rubina’s words remind us that this hunger has not left us — it has simply taken new forms, now expressed through the boldness of sport and the call of adventure.

The rush she describes is not only of body, but of soul — the great surge of life that comes when fear is conquered. When one stands atop a mountain, the wind howling, the world stretched infinite below, there is no room for doubt or distraction. The mind, usually cluttered with noise, becomes still. What remains is pure awareness, an intimacy with existence itself. In that moment, one does not simply feel alive — one becomes life. The philosopher Nietzsche spoke of this state when he said, “Live dangerously.” For to live cautiously, he believed, was to live half a life. To live fully is to risk — not always with peril of death, but with the courage to embrace uncertainty, to move beyond comfort into truth.

Yet there is wisdom, too, in Rubina Dilaik’s reflection on the cycle of craving — for she observes that the rush is so powerful, one seeks to feel it again and again. Here lies both the beauty and the peril of human desire. The fire that drives us to climb higher can also consume us if left unchecked. The ancient Stoics warned that the pursuit of ecstasy without reflection leads not to enlightenment, but to enslavement. The key, then, is not to renounce the thrill, but to understand it — to recognize that every rush, every high, is a mirror reminding us of what we truly seek: not adrenaline, but aliveness, not danger, but meaning.

Consider the story of Sir Edmund Hillary, who in 1953 became one of the first to conquer Mount Everest. When asked why he risked his life to climb it, he answered simply, “Because it is there.” In those words lies the essence of what Rubina describes — the call of challenge, the need to test oneself against the vastness of creation. But Hillary did not climb only for the thrill; he climbed to discover himself. The summit was not merely a place upon a mountain, but a revelation of the spirit. And so it is with all who pursue the extreme — the true victory is not over the elements, but over fear itself.

The lesson, then, is not to seek danger for its own sake, but to seek that which awakens the sleeping parts of the soul. Life, lived too safely, becomes dull; but life lived with courage becomes luminous. We must each find our own mountain — not necessarily of rock or ice, but of purpose, of passion, of faith. Let us seek experiences that make our hearts race and our spirits rise, not merely to chase the rush, but to remember that we are capable of greatness. Let the rush not enslave you, but enlighten you — let it teach you to carry the same intensity into your art, your work, your love, and your daily living.

Therefore, my friends, listen well: to live is to risk. The flame of life burns brightest at the edge of comfort. Whether through sport, creation, or courage, find that which makes you tremble and soar, for it is there that you meet your truest self. As Rubina Dilaik declares, the rush is a high — but let it not be merely a fleeting thrill. Let it become a reminder that you, too, were made for the extraordinary. Step toward the edge — and in doing so, step into the fullness of being alive.