When I grow old(er) I’d like to look back to my childhood and NOT feel:
‘OMG – so much time has passed! – Where did it all go?!’
And then have a slight sense of dread … and then quickly do something else, to avoid thinking more about this, slightly painful awareness of the passing of time.
I would like to feel like THIS:
‘Yes, that was a long time ago. Many, many things have happened then and in the years since. Deep and important things, sometimes less so, but all valuable experiences on my life-journey which has now left a long trail on a big and colorful map. So I will sit here for awhile and delve on some of those experiences, even the painful ones, and try to see the beauty of it all’.
Yeah, I’d like that second feeling. But before I can have it, I also have to make sure there are less days and hours where I just escape into some oblivion of TV or social media or chatter or buying more sugar-stuff or any of the other escapes.
Because if I continue with those there will truly not be much of a map to look at …
I looked up today if it was too late to write a novel if you were over 40 and get somewhere with it.
The answer was obvious. I just hadn’t expected it.
Because I had been convinced of a certain answer – before I decided to investigate the matter anyway.
And got a different answer.
… truth is that it is just one of those insanely detailed pencils-drawings that had a certain energy a long time ago, but no longer feels fresh.
Even so I don’t want to forget it.
I want to use it as a reminder – and then as a motivation to start again.
With something that is just as detailed and has just as much energy.
For now this one is frozen in time.
Like a shadowy slice of the past – almost literally – that is just there, always unfinished and kind of broken.
Right before I myself was almost broken, in a whole other story of life.
There is a strange fascination about that, and perhaps it is okay therefore to leave it.
Perhaps it is okay that some things are reminders of just that.
There are a lot of odd events, big or small, from the 70s that I feel some kind of resonance with, even though I don’t remember them.
The shouldn’t mean anything to me but they do. Just as time periods in which I never lived, like World War 1.
What does that mean?
I will probably never know, but what I do know is that it means lots of stuff for stories.
we have to insist on shaping our future, in our minds and seeing all the very real and best possibilities, without resort to metaphysics. And knowing perfectly well and accepting age.
But still seeing the future, for what it could be. Not for what we fear it will not be.
And we have to help each other do that. Day in and day out. All of us.
If I am a sailor I expect my sailing to go relatively smooth if I know the waters and the forecast, but to expect it for sure that would mean folly.
I would not bring my life belt or life boat or radio, then, would I?
Or worse: I would not bring any excitement to the journey.
For just as bad things may happen, just as the ordinary may very well happen, just as that … the very good things may happen, too. The very unexpected good things.
She is a sweet bright young thing and I’m sure she will move on to do great things, but she also says that she figures Eastern Europe has got “more culture” than Spain. A fact she will investigate on interrail while traveling 22 countries in 3 weeks.
So right there and then I don’t mind too much having 18 years on her. Maybe I have something to show for them after all.
I think it would be a beautiful thing if Jay was to play with some of that old LEGO, even if just for a few times. Even if he gets all sorts of new stuff that’ll probably interest him more.
It’s like past and present doing a kind of circle and touching each other. I know this is fairly normal – kids playing a bit with their parents’ toys, but still … I like the image of the circle of time meeting like this.
We’ll see how it meets and when.
I think when you allow yourself to really be with such moments and witness your child playing, maybe participating and taking time for it, then you can appreciate the gift that the passing of 35 years has given you.
Went to the family, down south, with Char and her grandma. It was mum-in-law’s birthday and a good excuse to go, although the trip is long and I get to drive every time.
Thought about life and death, and clients, and dreams, and Jay, and whether or not life would bring Good – or more of it – in the unknown future.
But I also got some nice cake that my grandma-in-law had made with all her skills.
I take it as a good side-effect of getting older that despite my thoughts still rampaging in their own ways, I am more and more able to let them, while I have my cake.
“As I go off into the big black abyss of my future, I have to admit that I am terrified and also a bit insecure in my decisions. But, I also realize that anyone who has ever gone off into uncharted waters must have felt similar to the way I feel now, which gives me a small ounce of comfort. I don’t know how to do what I am doing, I have no way of knowing if this is the right way or not. But I guess I’ll never know until I get there. So, this is me, being a pioneer.”
I have three different ‘pulls’:
– one for more passion-stuff (art),
– one for more purpose-stuff (this blog)
– and one for more money-making stuff (web design).
I haven’t yet find a way to achieve greater synergy. I don’t know how much greater synergy can be achieved.
I only know I have to find a way, especially with a newborn soon to come. Or go crazy.
So I have my work cut out for me, as a father-to-be-soon and as man and as a human.
I have to find a way through this sense of standing in the misty middle-aged rains of confusion and feeling deja vu all over again.
I have to make a conscious decision to find a way to make this part of my life more harmonious.
Acknowledge the progress I have already made, yes, but do better still.
And keep my head high to show people that that is right. Even if you don’t know what else is right. Right now.
it’s not just that my friend helps with a trivial thing, like moving a table, although it costs him on a busy schedule. He would have done that anyway, on most days.
But he helps *and* knows.
Knows me. Knows children.
Knows changes. Knows time.
And I know that he knows and cares.
That moment today with him then … would not have been possible 25 years ago … because some moments need to mature.
To grow old in the right way. For the right purpose.
Like something you drink that warms you for a long time after.
That’s worth it. Worth our age.
I’ve read somewhere that there’s a time for all things. To live. To die. To love. To hate. And probably to have children as well. Maybe it is not as corny or superstitious as it sounds. Maybe it is just right. Perhaps I just have to experience it to know. That it is right. And in what way it is right.
Don’t focus on what’s not left. Appreciate what is left. Don’t forget all that you have had. Appreciate what you have had. Don’t obsess about how many years you think you may have left. Forget about it. You can never know. That’s what I tell myself is the best. Now I have to train my mind to be good at it.