Maggie recognizes my 30-yr. old faceso I sit here approaching 31 years of age like a Mack truck barreling down I-80 in freezing rain. as usual during this time of year (suddenly realizing that my birthday has snuck past me like the tortoise) I am the startled hare caught napping in the sun. I wake up just in time to see that squeaky sneak about to cross the finish line on into the next year and I make a mad mental dash in attempt to catch up with the time that has elapsed.
at the height of this frenzy, I usually write some morbid diary entry like “on the eve of 21” or “on the eve of 26” (and so on). I tend to write some such sentimental hogwash like – “I seem to have lost my way this year,” or, “this has been a year of challenge and ultimately defeat,” and the like, in various ways expressing deep disappointments regarding the constraints of time, its inevitability and the ill-defined vectors that have bewildered my life direction. (and just general depressing pessimism like that.)
fact is, its tough as nails growing older. we have no choice in the matter, and try as we might, we’re never going to be able to keep abreast of all that we had hoped for, dreamed about and sought after.
so what do I do? give up and succumb to the disappointment? – throw out the figs with the bath water? (if I may toy with a figure of speech) find some manner of numbing my crave for enlightenment and the higher path?
this year I want to redouble my efforts at making the most of the rest of my momentary moments of breath that I have left. (lets face it – I’m almost half-way to dead.) but I want to be more subtle about it. I can’t go rip-roaring bull-like, “snorting and stomping around” like Ferdinand who sat on a bee – that’s for the teenagers who think they’re all that. I want to be more like a 50 year-old spy in a movie who has a better grasp on what can and can’t be bought, bribed or persuaded, and makes his move quietly at just the right time. I want my face to crinkle with wisdom and my eyes to be startling in their aliveness, alert but full of mystery.
I want to be like a 31 year-old who has gotten the wind knocked out of him by enough of real life to be a little wiser as well as a little older. I want to be old enough to have a good start on getting my edges worn down but young enough to still have a lot of fight left. I want to do more accepting and less demanding. I want to be more engaging and less condescending. I want to let go of the slashing sword of fear and come out of the captivity of abandonment. I want to get up off the floor and walk on into this ol’ sinful world.
at the height of this frenzy, I usually write some morbid diary entry like “on the eve of 21” or “on the eve of 26” (and so on). I tend to write some such sentimental hogwash like – “I seem to have lost my way this year,” or, “this has been a year of challenge and ultimately defeat,” and the like, in various ways expressing deep disappointments regarding the constraints of time, its inevitability and the ill-defined vectors that have bewildered my life direction. (and just general depressing pessimism like that.)
fact is, its tough as nails growing older. we have no choice in the matter, and try as we might, we’re never going to be able to keep abreast of all that we had hoped for, dreamed about and sought after.
so what do I do? give up and succumb to the disappointment? – throw out the figs with the bath water? (if I may toy with a figure of speech) find some manner of numbing my crave for enlightenment and the higher path?
this year I want to redouble my efforts at making the most of the rest of my momentary moments of breath that I have left. (lets face it – I’m almost half-way to dead.) but I want to be more subtle about it. I can’t go rip-roaring bull-like, “snorting and stomping around” like Ferdinand who sat on a bee – that’s for the teenagers who think they’re all that. I want to be more like a 50 year-old spy in a movie who has a better grasp on what can and can’t be bought, bribed or persuaded, and makes his move quietly at just the right time. I want my face to crinkle with wisdom and my eyes to be startling in their aliveness, alert but full of mystery.
I want to be like a 31 year-old who has gotten the wind knocked out of him by enough of real life to be a little wiser as well as a little older. I want to be old enough to have a good start on getting my edges worn down but young enough to still have a lot of fight left. I want to do more accepting and less demanding. I want to be more engaging and less condescending. I want to let go of the slashing sword of fear and come out of the captivity of abandonment. I want to get up off the floor and walk on into this ol’ sinful world.
an older couple whose faces crinkle with wisdom at the PA Farm Show
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