Thirty one trips around the sun, always changing, always growing; I enjoy Pearl Jam, I watch Rugrats again (The latter as musical as the former). What’s more, I have reclaimed some of the beauty forgotten, the long-lost treasures buried in the epoch of my youth. For I received a box of childhood memories from my sister this holiday, which my father had held onto unbeknownst to me. The box contained awards, certificates, report cards (“Excessive talking”), notes from teachers, two trophies: one for winning a spelling bee, the other for sportsmanship (Basketball).
They connected me to a time of purity and innocence, if not joy.
I admittedly have not always had a healthy relationship with the past.
I’ve spent much of my life in the shadow of the past – either because it was too beautiful or too ugly. Each was something I did not know how to live down, how to accept and let go of. This, thankfully, is changing.
As I recently heard (From a talk by self-proclaimed neuroscientist Joe Dispenza): ‘Wisdom is memory minus emotion,’ – only, that’s not quite right; for, when it comes to my memories, I find wisdom is only found when I acquire the right emotion, which is to say, a healthy one. After all, sometimes it is our happiest memories that haunt us most (As in the case of old loves, past successes, friendships etc,.). Or perhaps it was wisdom itself, which lent me a new perspective, facilitating the healthier emotions that ultimately allowed me to accept and let go of the past. Either way, my past does not haunt me any longer.
Today I am Wolf Waldo.
And it is today, my relationship to the present moment, which allows me to live my past down.
Today I look upon my youth with love and affection, knowing it is over (Not happiness but youth, and do not confuse the two – or else adult life will be difficult).
Yes, I am still respectively young and healthy, but I am no longer the boy I was for so long; the puer sleeps these days, waiting for the real fun.
Dreams yet to come.
For now, however, there is not yet teakwood beneath my feet, nor the wealth to facilitate such a Gatsbian playboy lifestyle as I could imagine (The playboy being the only puer that is not outwardly or inwardly pathetic).
Thankfully – my puer no longer running the show – I no longer dream a playboy lifestyle.
I dream a mature, kind, resolute life. A life lived with dignity, a new love of community, and a deep sense of personal responsibility.
Wanting nothing but to live from what Marcus Aurelius deemed the directing mind, the inner citadel, or the god seated within; I just want to live a well ordered life of peacefull happiness.
This is not to say I do not dream sexy, exciting, grand, and even sensual dreams for myself. On the contrary.
I am 31, almost 32, and just as my father passed – his life gone in a cosmic blink – I too will pass.
For my life is not only finite but shortening each day. Just as I was 21 on a very real day once upon a time, so too will I be 41.
Note: For anyone wanting to accept this truth [that their life is passing in a flash and they too will die], simply read Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations – hell, just listen to Lukas Graham’s Seven Years.
I intend to spend my remaining years living and thinking much differently than heretofore. I intend to fulfill the destiny life has given me, and I intend to forever remember the beauty forgotten.