Tag: midlife

I’m not screwing around. It’s time.

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patty-maher

I think midlife is when the universe gently places her hands upon your shoulders, pulls you close, and whispers in your ear:

I’m not screwing around. It’s time. All of this pretending and performing – these coping mechanisms that you’ve developed to protect yourself from feeling inadequate and getting hurt – has to go.

Your armor is preventing you from growing into your gifts. I understand that you needed these protections when you were small. I understand that you believed your armor could help you secure all of the things you needed to feel worthy of love and belonging, but you’re still searching and you’re more lost than ever.

Time is growing short. There are unexplored adventures ahead of you. You can’t live the rest of your life worried about what other people think. You were born worthy of love and belonging. Courage and daring are coursing through you. You were made to live and love with your whole heart. It’s time to show up and be seen.”

~ Brené Brown, Living In the Questions

Sources: Quote – Your Eyes Blaze Out. Photo: Patty Maher – There is Always Hope (2015)

Driving I-95 N. With Super Beta-Sitesterol.

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hands-of-a-marionette-player-tina-modotti

It’s Friday rush hour, on I-95 N.
The late afternoon sun beams through the side window.
An observer peering through the windshield would see: Man surrendered.

Just get me home, and unshackle me from this suit, this choking neck tie, and these wingtips molded around my swollen arches from the soaring humidity. Get.me.out.of.here.

I stand in traffic ten exits from home.
I turn up the AC, adjust the vents, loosen the tie and let it blow.

Sirius is set to MSNBC talk radio. Trump is ranting. Hillary’s consiglieres are stripping him down, one rant at a time.  They drone on with the mindless chatter.

There’s a commercial break from the spew – my ears twitch.

  • Are you over 50?
  • Does your life revolve around going to the bathroom?
  • Do you wake up at night with the constant urge to go?
  • Does your sex life need revitalization?
  • Did you know that 50% of men over 50 have an aging prostate issue? Chances are you need Super Beta Prostate too.

Jesus. Really? Does anyone really buy this crap? Continue reading “Driving I-95 N. With Super Beta-Sitesterol.” →

Driving I-95 N. FAQs in Confessional.

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darth-vader

A: Just no good.
Q: Huh?
A: I just was no good.
Q: Elaborate please.
A: Starter pistol fires at 2:30 am. Sprinter explodes out of the blocks. 4 consecutive mornings.
Q: Outcome?
A: Dominos.
Q: Dominos?
A: Dominos, tip, tip, tipping, toppling in slow motion, and then roaring around corners and racing down straightaways at mid-day.
Q: Dominos?
A: Dominos.
A: Bad Ju-Ju.  Darth Vader.
Q: Martyr kneeling to the God of Work?
A: Hmmmmmm. Continue reading “Driving I-95 N. FAQs in Confessional.” →

Driving I-95 S. With Little Lights.

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martin-stranka-birds-road-silence

6:14 am. 28° F. Friday morning.

You push the start button, the engine fires.  The heater begins to blow.  The wipers clear the morning dew. The transmission slides into reverse.  Sirius beams down from the satellite circling, silently, way above.  You turn the dial and it’s Seals & Crofts. “Summer Breeze” fills the cabin and you mouth “makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.”  It fills you like Guskin’s current of heat running through your body, as if you’ve swum into a warm patch in a cold lake.  Your eyes scan the traffic in the right lanes, orderly, flowing. They shift to the horizon, the sunrise burns amber into the light cloud cover.

And there it comes. Heart-side. A morning rush of sorts.  The cables affixed to the poles – a mild current jumps and sparks, stops and starts up again. This continues for two to three minutes, a morning call in recent weeks.  This intermittent squeeze, a crack in the earth, the bedrock shivers. Continue reading “Driving I-95 S. With Little Lights.” →

Driving I-95 N. With Too Much Candy.

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highway-stream-lights-driving

Thursday night ride home, up I-95 N on dry roads and heavy traffic.
My right hand rests on the dial.

So, DK, what’s it gonna be?
Radio, with its 50+ stations?
Sirius, with its 100 channels?
iPhone playlists, with 5437 tunes?
Or, Pandora streaming, with its infinite candy?

So much candy, yet never satisfied, yearning for the familiar grooves.

McEwen answers in World Enough & Time: “Intake, for example: how much is enough?”

And Simon Reynolds follows: “Complaining that there’s too much good art and entertainment being made at the moment seems churlish — how could that be a problem? Yet it’s undeniable that there is something curiously oppressive about the current bounty, something paralyzing about our ease of access to it. keeping up with what’s good gets to seem like a chore. If anything, the overload in music feels even more unmanageable.”

And in flows nostalgia. An ache… Continue reading “Driving I-95 N. With Too Much Candy.” →