What is it about upcoming birthdays that makes you reconsider every decision you’ve ever made? Betty & I, despite our protestations, are getting a little too close to the big 4-0 these days for our own comfort. I can’t speak for her, but for me the past couple of weeks I’ve felt torn about everything in my life: the writing, my sense of home & family, work, money, you name it. The only things I feel sure of are Betty and the kittoi, all of whom bring me joy every single day. They all make me laugh in ways that do my serious soul some good.
Whenever people complained about getting older, my father has always said, “well, you only have one other choice.” Some days that’s not so funny, but other days it reminds me of the deep & abiding pragmatism I was raised with: either you bellyache about it & bore yourself & everyone else, or you just get older & get on with things. But then, peace is easy for a man who is happiest eating hot dogs & watching baseball. Some of us don’t find joy as easily as that.
There are days I wish I could, & other days when I am convinced I could be that way – if, if only, if only something. But that’s not what the Buddhists tell me: they tell me it’s mine if I want it. Because I could moan & whine about the nerve.com interview that was supposed to happen but didn’t; I could complain about the marathon bookkeeping sessions I’ve done in past months; I could curse whoever’s in charge of this universe for their bad administration.
& I do, oh, surely I do. But eventually I get bored of that & find something to do, even if that something simple is cleaning out the litterbox for the umpteenth time.