I used to feel so old. Ancient, decrepit. Not outside, but where it counted. Like the world was pressing down on my shoulders, and I was older than time.
I was bitter. I spent my time regretting the past, and dreading the future. One of the poems I wrote when I was 21 ended like this:
Sometimes I hate God above
Who put me in this hell
And if I held "the button",
I'd take you there, as well
While that can be considered artistic overstatement, the sentiment was close to how I often felt.
Through various experiences, I learned the concept of living in the moment, for the moment is all you really ever have. The actions you are happiest making now are the ones you will be happiest you took, 50 years from now, or tomorrow.
I started saying, "I was lucky enough to..." and "I was fortunate to..." When I had said this several times, I caught myself. I looked inside. I realized, for the first time, that I did feel fortunate. I had forgiven myself for not being "good" enough, brave enough, fit enough, and anything "enough", and in forgiving myself, my anger at everyone else and the world had fallen away.
Every now and then, perhaps when I long for the feel of my own child held safely in my arms, or the caress of a dearly loved wife, I forget how fortunate I truly am.
We have had so many sick and stricken among us, lately. It really tends to put things in perspective. All that I have, as much as I sometimes enjoy it, can go. It really means nothing, toys to amuse me, useful only in how long it holds my attention, or to the degree I can defend those I love.
Only people really count. Munk, you have those. Deny the trap of self-pity, refuse to bow to melancholy. Revel in the life, the good, young, healthy life of those you have been blessed with, those who have been entrusted into your care.
We have so much.
John