How is it at 50?

A very close friend of mine recently asked me this question. I should state the friend is about 11 years younger. They are a different sex than me. We have many life similarities, as well as many differences. We both have very intense emotions. We both have small(ish) children and both are married. Our political views are similar, although not identical. We are not of the same ethnic background. The point is, the question was very pertinent because it was all about age and stages of life. Not at all about the differences or similarities of us as people. It really gave me pause. How is it at 50? 

Basically, I originally thought everything was the same. But slowly, as I thought about it, I realized this was not true. Eleven years makes a difference. As I will say, not a huge difference. But a perceptible difference. I have seen things in the last ten years I did not know. Or rather, I have recognized things I knew, but did not appreciate. 

What made this exceptionally interesting was discussing the question, or rather, the answers with some other folks of even younger ages. We discussed life stages, what we knew, yearned for, dreamed about. The patterns were unmistakable, although all of us had slightly different takes on the paths of life.  We all know these things intellectually, but...

So here goes...

 1. Mediocre people do exceptional things all the time. 

None of us is special. It is possible at any given time, in some given way, that any one of us may excel. But overall, people are a soft warm animals like all others and they are not special. At least the universe does not see us as special. It does not care if we are rich or poor. If we are educated or not. A man or a woman.

But that is not the end. In fact, because we are not special, we have an obligation to be humble and help try to make the world a good place. We must help each other through bad times and celebrate good times. We must take care of our surroundings. Live with intention. All the aphorisms we hear. 

And if we truly live, that is truly exceptional.

2. Truth is overrated.

It has become vogue to search for truth. Probably a result of the scientific age or an outgrowth of our neuroses over the fact we have lost so much control over our own lives.

But mystery, wonder and a good healthy dose of self delusion make life worth living! 

We all know the stark naked truth that those pants make you look fat is just cruel. But on a more subtle level, relentless truth devalues the whole. When you only see the painting as a collection of brushstrokes, you cannot see the artists passion. When the tree is phloem and xylem, it no longer is a place to rest. 

Even more subtly, mystery feeds desire and the desire to know other people produces association. 

 If all truth and honesty were evident at all times, it would be a very sterile environment indeed. 

I am suggesting a healthy dose of fantasy about how you are living the dream is much better than a constant reminder of all the objective failures you have had. And since it is inevitable you will fail, it is better to learn - and learn to cope and move on - than be trapped by the relentless weight of truth. I do not suggest that is easy. Or how or when it should be done. Just that the opposite is overrated.

Once in awhile, just take the blue pill. Even more importantly, once in awhile lose yourself in the blue pill. The real world will be there when you are done. 

3. There is no one right answer. 

There is not even one question. 

There is no single thing called "Love". 

The only real constant is change. And the fact is, things don't change all that much. (Remember the fact we all had similar life patterns?) In fact, it is only accumulated change that is noticeable. While such change certainly can be huge, it also requires patience and time to take place. It cannot be rushed. Some people say all things in their time, and this is so. Change will only come in its own time.

Assuming there is a "right" and a "wrong" assumes the status quo will change into something better. But things are the way they are for some reason or reasons. People are born, grow up, fall in love, become twisted and learn to hate, learn to forgive, learn to love fully and ultimately die over and over. That is what people do. 

Spring follows winter as surely as fall follows summer. 

These things change in space and time. They vary in intensity. But they are universal.

Patience is not a virtue: it is essential. In fact, it will be forced upon us by reality. 

Just as importantly, the reaction one way or another to a situation or a stimulus is simply a slight extension or change from where things were before. Every reaction. And in the greater scheme of the universe that reaction one way or another is simply so close to the other to be incapable of being "right" or "wrong". Even the greatest calamity of all time would be but a "blip" in cosmic history. 

So one choice or another is neither right nor wrong. The experiences are different, but each experience is unique. One may be better for a given family or person at a given time, but there simple is no one single "best" answer. 

This principle extends to everything. Things as simple as which way to drive to work and things as complex as whether to drive at all.

So...how IS it at 50? 

Maddening. You have reached a point where you have glimpsed certain things. You have also realized those things are universal and not the only right answer. You know you have a lot to teach, and that you are ultimately incapable of teaching it. People will learn or not learn on their own time. You can look back over a long enough period to see patterns and yet have no idea how they will play out. And you have the nagging feeling you will probably never live long enough to see the subtle endings of what you have seen start.

And anyone who has read this also knows this is just my experience. So feel free to share yours and we will all learn.

Love

Love is the smell of your mother
Love is the smell of your child.
Love feels the warmth of skin
And the separation of miles.
Love is a knowing glance
A shared history and shared emotions.
Love takes time and wipes it away
Love is like tears in the oceans.
Love is exciting and familiar
It has been since before we were born
It can engulf, it can comfort, it can burn out
But it can still be felt long after it is gone.

Love is not a single emotion
Love is not an idea
Love is not a collection of biological impulses
Love is not the magnetism of north and south poles.

Freindship, hatred, lust, repulsion, generosity, jealousy
A cool reproach and a warm embrace.
Selfishness and selflessness, intimacy and detachment,
Fatigue, exhaustion and a heart that races

Love is what is left when all else fades...
When this life closes.  

Growth....

When I first saw her, I was smitten.

She was beautiful, soft, with light skin and brown eyes.

She was helpless, vulnerable.

I wanted to protect her and help her grow.

Intentionally, I opened my heart and took a risk.

It was not clear if she could or would stay with me

But as months went by our bond grew until parting

Would cause the greatest sorrow known to a man.

Years followed.  We grew closer.  We shared experiences

Sometimes they were together and sometimes they were

Apart with one as spectator and one as actor.

But always, the only thing she remembered was that I was there.

As we both grew older, we both grew

In age and love.

In silliness and in wisdom.

Sharing a love of Halloween and a hatred of plastic bottles.

But now, I had to share her. With other people, with other interests

With the passage of time and the inevitable pull of nature.

Our love was strong, but as day follows night, follows day,

We moved inexorably further and further apart.

And then, one day, it was time. She left me

Oh! Not emotionally or spiritually

But rather physically.

In that real, tangible…permanent…way that children leave their parents.

The pain was irrepressible, even though it was the most natural thing in the world.

There was no anger, no sadness, just and emptiness…

But an emptiness that was right.

Filled with the knowledge that your daughter was given wings.

11/17/2013

We'll always have Paris...

Sometimes in the miasma of space and time souls meet. 

They share a common reality 

They are together and yet separate. 

Sometimes in the short period of time we call life two people meet

They share a sense of the other

They are separate and yet together

But more often we just miss each other 

Alone, in the universe, even in a crowd 

We share not reality, or even a sense

We are separate to the extent of being alone

11/13/2013

All that wonders is not lost...

In a graveyard of lost souls, another one is always welcome

In the graveyard of the minds, souls collide. 

The resulting crash can echo for eons, blowing across time and across the graveyards....

Across the mountains like clouds.   

Emotions and Souls lost to time, lost to each other, 

All influenced by the collision but on paths trapped within life, within minds,

Their cries like the silence of space as they whoosh waiting for the next collision...and the next

Atoms, molecules, quarks and energy swirling. Their purpose nothing more than the next collision. 

11/13/2013

Today While Walking...

Today while walking I saw a flower

It was a light purple, lavender I guess

I thought on a bitter cold morning with frost about

How strong this delicate plant must be... But I digress

The walk was simply to an office. A box within which I could think of details and make small mouth noises

No love of life or fear of death

And yet my thoughts return to the flower

Was it just lucky not to have been frozen?   But my heart rejoices

That in the path of a simple walk

A day and world dominated and subjugated by human action

That nature and a beautiful flower

Can survive and impart a message, a thought, a feeling.... And cause a reaction. 

So I probably shouldn't keep this to myself.

For personal reasons, I took down this blog for a few days. I needed the introspection. I felt I had nothing to share.  Perhaps I do not.

But a friend helped me to see that it was not necessarily WHAT I shared, but the act of sharing, that was important. 

Thanks Anabel. Should have figured you would promote connections and growth. 

So I am placing this public again and will start with a little poem I wrote about a simple flower. It is "fluffy", but serves to remind us if our place in things.  

An interesting observation...

If happiness is about getting what you want, it appears that meaningfulness is about doing things that express yourself

I recently read this in an article. It was so interesting.  Part of this blog was to share, and yet I have also taken it down publicly. This makes me think about the change of expression that a blog implies and the holding back that taking it down accomplishes.  

A ten year old's train of thought...

My son is ten years old.  I would never call him "typical".  The following is a sotry he wrote sometime in October of 2013 for your enjoyment.

Wrestling is like two people get down and lean to each other and start to wrestle when the coach blows the wistle [sic] they will start wrestling and the coach will stay to see who will win the match who ever wins gets to face to face.  I hear people talking and playing game.  I feel a table and it has stuff like food or newpapers on it and books to read after supper.  I smell food on the table when I come in the house to play and eat supper.  I taste food and water in my mouth and I taste saliva and anything thats in my mouth.

Cool Nites.....

High grey clouds float in the cool sky
While all around the breezes fly
And thoughts and dreams are shared and crossed 
And leaves and smells are blown and tossed

The temperature is cool,
Not hot
The world is less a rock than not
Our lives are connected one and all
Our hopes and fears on a little ball

Of stardust.   Of imagination. Of love.  Of life
Of death and rebirth and of peace and strife
Of Mountains and clouds, of dark and lites 
But most of all, of cool ...
And Nites. 

Mist......

Light mist on a cool morning
Warm red sunset
White clouds in a blue sky. 

The beauty of everything around us

A soft sigh of lovers
The hearty laugh of friends
A giggle just because it feels good

The joy of life that sustains us

A new beginning
Freedom to choose and act
Peace, and unrest

The force of life within us. 

All things abide and all things change
Time and place just rearrange 

What we do with this life, and joy, and beauty is up to us. 

Imperfection....

Ideas are only half formed in my mind
It is like looking at an Escher or Picasso, where you only see in one dimension at any given point,
If you blur your eyes, or only view one slice or dimension, it all makes sense 

But as soon as the words are formed, they are wrong

Inaccurate

Imperfectly conveying or making an image that is both more complex and at the same time slipping away.  

I see clouds, but by the time I write that, the word conveys no texture, no meaning, no reality ... And the cloud is already gone. 

The same with love. 
I feel love, but by the time I form the thought, the feeling is more complex and at the same time it has changed and morphed into something different 

Still love, but imperfectly described by a simple four letter word. 

The Revolution will not be televised!
No, and I dare say it will not be spoken about, nor seen, nor heard except in the false way a persons life is boiled down to an obituary 

The words and the images are imperfect. 
The Revolution must be Lived!  
Each experience a fullness of life.