K – Kismet (NaPoWriMo #13)

Kismet (kiz-met) means destiny, or fate; or a power that is believed to control what happens in the future. The word kismet come to us from Turkish, originally from the Arabic word qisma (keese-mah), meaning portion or lot. There is so much poetry about, or related to, kismet that it seems to be its own type within a genre.

Specks: Coincidence meets Kismet
By Bill Reynolds

Among the billions traveling through space…
Two specks of dust without direction or purpose,
None aware of another, simple lifeless vectors of eternity
on pointless, unrelated journeys to nowhere.

Each born of events eons past in both time and distance,
mindless entities uncaring, without purpose or reason.

Unguided, random, alone, on endless journeys to
nothingness, absent of all consciousness, awareness, or
desire in the vast universe of both
loving and frightening utter insignificance.

They do not know, do not feel, do not see, do not care.
Mindless and might be as well, not to exist at all.

Set apart in time and distance, spirits within–
Still unfulfilled, unknowing of self, unknowing of others.
Closer they loom but continue to wander,
thru time and thru space with nothing to ponder.

Then a fire starts to burn. There is something.
A light. A spark. A slowing from forever’s pointlessness.

Slowly, one at a time, a special day, each glides to a stop…
With spirit and magic, of others around they’re now more aware.
Spirit knows life and begins to evolve,
with wonders and mysteries yet to resolve.

They notice things now, a rhythm, a beat they can hear;
There’s movement within, fluid awareness begins.

There are noises and smells, they feel things
And notice more, it’s like nothing before.
Now being, now joining,
Each has become, part of life here on earth.
Each morphs into a part of the soul of a child.

Each has one life and each grows to a person…
with love and with needs, and all that should follow.

What was that fire? Where did it start?
Both still in the universe, but no longer apart.
Each gradually feels more awake, more abiding,
Each strives on and on, to be with one who is living.

People and places and sights and sounds.
Emotions and tastes and the hearing of life.

The specks found common goals, one mission in life,
to find something missing, the whole of it all.
Through the eyes of their hosts, each speck meets the other.
Instantly their kismet arrives, as love for all their lives.

Their kismet has sent them to be as they are,
from that moment on, they’re forever together.

Now fully aware of why they are here,
the hosts of the specks become a great couple.
In love and now bonded together as one,
they move through this life, both sharing a fate.

A journey of eons with circumstance shared…
the past has been long, their future’s eternity.

Has coincidence brought two lovers together?
Or was their kismet at work without a conclusion?
The humans may pass, but the specks live forever.
Their love will go on, into ever and ever.

What is our kismet?
Seek your destiny — but look both ways, and mind the gaps.

The universe is important. Click here to learn all you need to know,
in about four minutes. It’s well done and funny.

Poem: Dogs of War

This poem refers to crew members (called crew dogs) of B-52 bombers and to their war-time mission of dropping munitions to destroy things and kill people, thus the dogs of war. This is a dark and threatening piece, set in six stanzas of six lines each, with even and odd lines rhyming. Misery and woe are metaphors for the many types of weapons dropped. The shrill is the eerie sound bombs make as they fall. The dog, or beast, refers to the model D, or variant of B-52, which is painted black on the bottom of the airplane. Please question in comment.

Dogs of War
by Bill Reynolds

Let us slip from nature’s gravity hold
We war dogs of old, both willing and bold.
Into skies we shall go with misery and woe.
To maim and to kill, who we don’t even know.
Our airman’s life is to die if we will.
Into Death’s realm, we’ll send you the shrill.

We’re lashed to the beast, the marvelous dog,
Behind us we leave the stink and a fog.
The thunderous sound of flying around
We send you a hell, you on the ground.
Wonders of war are set at our feet
Our old friend death, soon you will meet.

A B-52H dropping high-drag bombs and flairs.

Destruction we’ll rain on your cities and towns,
You won’t know we’re there, we don’t make a sound.
Concussion will break you and all that is near,
Along with destruction, we’ll send you the fear.
The black-bottom dogs will come as you sleep
To rip and to tear, into hearts of your sheep.

The countdown will start, as our hearts will race,
But Death we’ll deliver at one horrible pace.
The flashes we’ll see and the fires will rise,
The dogs of war unleased, to your demise.
The horror will come as sure as the sun,
This nightmare relents when war is won.

Safe home again with guilt, we shall not feel,
Because of the blow, we were vowed to deal.
To the bar we’ll retire and review the day’s mess,
In laughter and stories, we consider success.
The beast is now resting and finding a tune,
Ready again, the dogs shall return again soon.

The horrors of war are hidden away,
The death and the misery kept well at bay.
From dogs to humans we slowly turn,
To our homes and lives we always return.
Havoc returns with the dogs of war,
Until we can say, no war! No more.

Look both ways, mind the gaps, and fill the world with love and peace.
Lest we…

“…Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war,
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.”
~ Marcus Antonius in Julius Caesar,
Act 3, scene 1, 270–275

Not the Same Kennedy

Few of us are born with an inaccurately low self-esteem, but the potential is there for disordered self-image. I may have inherited my mother’s negative opinion of personal abilities (hers and mine), but the passing of the flaw was socio-cultural, not biological. How I got that way is unimportant. What is important is that while humility may be a good thing, too often people miss much in life because they found their way to the “I’m not good enough, I can’t, I am too scared, or nobody loves me” quagmire.

Jack was my teenage friend, and the first to motivate my turnaround from I cannot, to I can. I’ve met others who helped me see my greater potential to achieve. They always came into my life at the right time. My post on synchronicity tackled the phenomenon. Some are still involved in my life, and some inspirational souls have recently landed in my patch of life.

When I first met Hilton M. Kennedy he was a Master Sergeant in the US Air Force, and he would soon be my boss and direct supervisor. The man I eventually called Ken, but many called Mac, had olive colored skin, lots of jet black hair, was several inches shorter than I, and smoked too many Salem cigarettes. I don’t know if Ken was a hyper-active child, but he was one for the most effervescent men I had met. Ten years my senior, Ken reeked enthusiasm. Other than being married, where we worked, and the Air Force, we had little in common, at first.

Ken’s personality included talking fast, a trait one seldom finds in a Louisiana native. I enjoyed our many chats where he made me believe that he was interested in me, and that I would have a successful future. Many of those discussions were accompanied by measured amounts of fine liquor. Living in Ankara, Turkey, ensured financial advantages for Americans in the late sixties. Of course, fine liquor required equally fine cigars.

I began to see good changes in myself. I was becoming more confident. My self-opinion and hopes began to unfold from whatever dark recess of my mind they were held captive. I attribute any success and goodness in my life to many people, some from my past and some in my life today, some from almost 50 years ago. Hilton Kennedy was the right guru at the right time in my life.

We became personal friends and our families got close as he kept tabs on my career following the end of my enlistment and his eventual retirement. We went to visit him, and he and his wife visited our home. Eventually, our relationship was more friendship and less his being my mentor and advisor. One of the last times I saw him, my wife and I were guests of he and his wife in Rome, New York. He played the harmonica and I thought all was well. But it was not to be.

In the late eighties, I learned that my friend and mentor had been diagnosed with Huntington’s Disease, a dreadful genetic illness with no cure. The mental and physical degradation was disastrous for someone who was such a fast-paced, high-stepper in life.

It was horrible. I didn’t know what to do, what to think, or how to feel. While I felt bad for him and his family, I regretted the worlds loss of one of the good ones. Fortunately, the regressive disease was stopped when Ken died of a heart attack at the age of 55. I faced the loss feeling that any suffering by Ken and his family was aborted.

Ken has been gone for over 25 years. I remember, and I’m grateful for that man being in my life and the difference he made in me simply by believing in me, showing his faith in me, and his eventual friendship.

Look both ways every day.
You may be the long remembered difference is someone’s life.
But, mind the gaps.

Who Ya Gunna Kill?

Intrigued? It's murder! — Intrigued? It’s murder!

Seriously? Would you? I spent a career in the military. Flying B-52s would have removed me from the carnage by five miles, but I never dropped bombs on people. Fly all day, spend a few minutes dropping whatever (normal or ‘conventional’ bombs, various kinds of nuclear bombs or missiles, or mines into water like harbors or ports), then home and to the club for a night of brews and pizza before going out again in a day or so. I just missed out on that fun (not) routine in Viet Nam.

I was trained to shoot three guns: two rifles and one pistol. But I never shot anyone either. I spent a career as a trained killer, but I’ve never killed. I don’t even hunt. And, at least for now, I don’t own a firearm. However, I have no doubt that I would kill. War is different. Self-defense is different. I am not a pacifist.

Per the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, the most dangerous regions in the world for murder and other violent crimes are Africa, Caribbean (toss in Brazil), and Central America. Canada comes in at 89^th with about 516 murders, and the US at 92^nd with 12,253 (both based on rate by population). Australia seems to have virtual love fest going on and is way down the list. But I want to look at this from a personal, more individualized perspective.

murder-3 A few days ago, I wrote a tongue-in-cheek note on Facebook about how I did not whack some guy because my wife would kill me, had I dispatched the fool to his happy hunting ground. The fact remains, people kill people. I cannot imagine doing that except in self-defense or war. Neither of those would be considered murder, even in the biblical sense. Why do humans kill each other? Mental illness aside, why do we do it?

Here’s a little clip from J. D. Robb’s book, Glory in Death, p 138.

“Biblically speaking,” Nadine put in, “murder is the oldest crime.”

“You could say it has a long tradition. We may be able to filter out certain undesirable tendencies through genetics, chemical treatments, beta scans, we deter with penal colonies and the absence of freedom. But human nature remains human nature.”

Those basic motives for violence that science is unable to filter: love, hate, greed, envy, anger.”

“They separate us from the droids, don’t they?”

“And make us susceptible to joy, sorrow, and passion. That’s a debate for the scientists and the intellectuals. But which of those motives killed Cicely Towers and Yvonne Metcalf?”

Later they add thrill as basic human motive for violence.

Can this be for real? Do people kill because it’s fun? Sorry, that can’t be considered normal. But those other emotions can account for a lot of murders. Love, hate, greed, envy, and anger are common human emotions. And yet, people kill strangers for cutting them off in traffic. We call it road rage, but it’s anger. Statistically, murders of women are often done by male mates, partners, or lovers. What’s up with that?

The countries in the high murder-rate areas that I mentioned have significant drug trafficking problems, and many (but not all) have high rates of poverty. Figuring out motives and getting them into the right categories would be a challenge internationally. So, tell us. Who ya gunna kill? murder-4

It can be a dangerous world out there.
Carefully mind any gaps. Look both ways before crossing borders, fences, or red lines. And, watch for droids.

It’s Hopeless – That’s Good

hopelessness2

One of my favorite movie lines is, “What if this is as good as it gets?” Watch the movie trailer here.

This scene takes place in a shrink’s office after Melvin Udall’s (Jack Nicholson) doctor tells him that he needs an appointment. The doctor is pleased that Udall maybe taking responsibility and he acknowledges Udall’s difficulty with that. Have you ever asked yourself, is this as good as it gets?

Let’s answer this empowering question with, “It is what it is.” But, it’s more than that, and it applies to life.

Sometimes, feelings of sadness or depression blow through me like gusts of wind through the branches of trees. These visiting emotions last just long enough, and are disturbing enough, to let me know they visited. Then, just as quickly, they’re gone. I feel normal again. I know the feelings aren’t far away and they will return. When they come back, I have no way to expel them. These feelings have their own will; one I don’t control. When they return, I hope they don’t stay long.

I fancy myself a happy person, although I find happiness in my own way. Life is about how we feel. I love life and living – being me. I accept reality, which gets a bad rap for being negative. Life is what it is, which is mostly good for me. I know it’s good from my experience with when it was bad. I don’t like feeling desperate, but I feel hopeless at times. It’s not the same as depressed.

I’m hopeful about many of the things over which I have no control. When I fly, I hope the airplane doesn’t crash. When I drive through the I-90 tunnels toward Seattle, I hope there’s not an earthquake. Fear could prevent me from doing either. Planes crash and earthquakes happen. In The Road Less Traveled, Scott Peck talks about denial keeping us from dying of freight. I’m not sure about that, but it might help me get to Austin. It’s not denial – shit happens.

hopelessness3 However, I am willing to work with my feelings of hopelessness. I’m not referring to the charming but hopeless romantic, or being merely incompetent (Bill’s hopeless). And I’m not talking about sadness, fear, or denial. I’m talking about the feeling that can cause despair (being without hope). Back in the day, ‘twas that conclusion I expressed when I’d say OMGIF! (Oh my God, I’m fucked).

Some things are hopeless. While my online dictionary defines hopelessness as causing despair; being desperate, wretched, demoralized, or impossible; I prefer a simpler hopelessness: feeling the loss of hope. And hope is “a longing for a future condition over which you have no agency (control, influence, or power); it means you are essentially powerless.” (Derrick Jensen)

I recall an audio tape where the narrator asked, “What is the best hoped-for outcome of any relationship?” My answer is best expressed in the movie The Notebook. What I like most about that movie is Noah, who never gives up on his love for Allie despite their apparent hopeless situation. Spoiler alert: they don’t live happily ever after (which is my point). But they do have a great life.

Think of the Buddhist issue with desire as the cause of all of our problems. Is a desire not something hoped for? Two related Buddhist sayings are: “Hope and fear chase each other’s tails,” and “When you give up on hope, you turn away from fear.”

Time for some philosophical music….

Is it all dust in the wind? Are we? Metaphorically, perhaps so; in reality, we will be. The song talks about the impermanence of passing time, the endlessness of earth and water, and the certainty of death, whereby our only immortality is by returning to earth and water.

Embracing hopelessness is not the same as giving up. It’s a form of acceptance. It is time for us to do what we can. It is time for our action. It helps us to live more in the present moment. We rely less on tomorrow being a better day. I’ve been accused of being negative when I defended reality. Others may want to live in fantasy, to deny reality to the point of making things worse (i.e., not seeking medical assistance), but that feeds denial and makes things worse. Accepting things as they really are, even when hopeless, gives us a better life.

hopelessness1 I read this good article about hopelessness in the Orion Magazine called “Beyond Hope,” by Derrick Jensen. He talks about hopelessness as a general topic, but specifically applies environmentalism as an example. Hopelessness does not deprive us of that final act of defiance.

As we accept the reality of hopelessness,
we need to look both ways and mind the gaps.

Bonus Post – Look Both Ways

I just finished watching Look Both Ways, a 2005 Australian independent movie. I watched it because I had one of those idea moments today.

As I was walking on a sidewalk next to a busy street, I approached a minor street to cross. I glanced left, but was not yet crossing when a car came from behind me and turned right, quickly passing directly in front of me. She was driving a little too fast, did not signal, and may not have seen me. I checked to my left again for traffic and safely crossed the street.

Before I reached the opposite side, I realized that I had not looked to my right to ensure no cars were coming from that side. I recalled being told repeatedly, as a child of five or six, to look both ways before crossing the street. While the threatening traffic was on my left, I should have looked right.

I’m also in the process of reading How to Write Short, a book by Roy Peter Clark. Dr. Clark’s book has me thinking about how effective we can be with few words. Thus, I had one of those rare moments when an idea comes to me.

Look both ways can serve as my metaphorical phrase for living life—staying alive and healthy. I can see it as considering all sides of an issue (pro and con), hearing people out who may think different than I, discerning dangers of life, being careful, remembering lessons from our childhood, trying different things and new places. Can you add to my list?

Here is my advice: look both ways.

There are about a half-dozen books with the title Look Both Ways. I only found the one movie and I’m glad that I watched it. I enjoy that kind of flick. If you like artsy, emotional, love-story-ish movies with lots of music and relevant singing in the background, give it a go, mate. I had to get my ear tuned to the Aussie English, but I managed. I found it for two bucks on Amazon, but you might find it for free on YouTube. Warning: tear jerker. See the official trailer here.

There is no vegemite in the movie, but she does say, “Are you giving me the flick?” That must be Australian for Are we breaking up or Are you dumping me?

Furthermore, starting this Tuesday, each blog I post on Our Rainy Journey will end with some comment about “look both ways,” at least until I tire of it. And, yes, there is rain in the movie—they get wet.

This Atheist and Jesus….

I was asked a good question. This is my response, which is based on my religious views and my personal version of atheism. I cannot speak for any other atheists. The person asking was sincerely curious.

I don’t like the word atheist, but I know none better. So, I’ll roll with it. We have varying concepts and definitions of what an atheist is and what one believes or should think. That’s why I’m writing this explanation. Those differences aren’t going to change soon.

I was asked because I had linked to a song in last week’s blog on questions. The song was Spirit in The Sky by Norman Greenbaum. (Linked again here.) It’s tied to my answer to “What happens after we die?” (Answer: I don’t know.)

atheist and jesus

I enjoy spiritual music and I’ve liked this song since first hearing it in the 70s. It’s uplifting and has a lot of hand-clapping and singing about what happens following human death. All of that is good, based on the song. However, there’s a condition.

The lyrics say I “gotta have” a friend to intervene for me if I plan to make a deal with the spirit in the sky.

Prepare yourself you know it’s a must
Gotta have a friend in Jesus
So you know that when you die
He’s gonna recommend you
To the spirit in the sky

Never been a sinner I never sinned
I got a friend in Jesus
So you know that when I die
He’s gonna set me up with
The spirit in the sky

My friend asked, “How does being a friend of Jesus resonate with an atheist?”

Resonate means “to attach particular meaning or importance for someone, or to affect or appeal to someone in a personal or emotional way.”

I can’t say that Jesus or an afterlife resonate with me. My personal belief is that when we’re dead, we are simply dead and gone. There are no fires, no trials, no judgements, no hooking up again with the old bod – it’s simply over. If there is more to it, as with my answer to the question, I’ll have to wait to find out. I’m in no rush to learn the answer.

To be clear: I am an atheist, Norm Greenbaum is a Jew, Jesus (actually Yeshua) was also a Jew.

Now, consider these three points of view.

Atheists do not believe in any gods. Any belief in a historical Jesus is personal. And for an atheist, that is only a belief that the man existed. Any opinion or judgement of that man is also a personal opinion.
Most observant Jews (that I know of) do not believe that Jesus was the messiah, or is God. Yet, one of them wrote and sang this song – Norm Greenbaum.
Christians seem to believe Jesus was the messiah prophesied in scripture for the Jews. They also seem to believe that Jesus was, or is, the Son of God. Thus, as the second person of a holy trinity, also God. But, this is about me, not Christianity.

Notice anything? I never said that Jesus never existed. I never said he was not a nice guy, or a great religious prophet and leader, or a Jewish Rabbi. Simply not believing that someone is a god isn’t as negative as some folks may think.

Jesus also allegedly said and did a lot of cool things that I, and many other atheists, do agree with. Whether Jesus existed or not, I’m not, and never have been, anti-Jesus just because I don’t think he or anyone else is a god.

Besides, if Richard Dawkins supports Jesus’s philosophy (contrary to what many Christians may think), I certainly feel comfortable plugging songs that may include the name of Jesus.

I’ll not dismiss music simply because it uses his name, is religious in nature, or invokes any other god. I may for other reasons.

Here is another great Jesus song I like: ‘Jesus is Just Alright,’ covered most famously by the Doobie Brothers in the early 70s. It’s not much for lyrics, but was an upbeat hit.

I neither hate nor love Jesus. I accept that he probably lived about 2,000 years ago and he may have been one of the world’s first hippies (something I like). If so, I also think he is long dead.

May we unite in love and friendship. Let’s end dividing into tribes and against each other. Would Jesus want us to join our humanity together with peace and love in our hearts? May we acknowledge what we need from, and share with, each other. And, let each of us also be true to ourselves.

Atheist and Jesus4

A Test for Atheists

Test9

The Pew Research Center, in the 2014 Religious Landscape Study, asked self-identified atheists how often they shared their views on gods and religion with religious people.

Nine percent said they did so at least weekly. Two-thirds said they seldom or never discuss their religious views with religious people. That may be changing as secularism becomes more acceptable. On line, these discussions often take the form of Q&A sessions.

Here are eleven sample questions that I promised to blog about. I Bogarted the questions from a variety of internet sources, but the responses are mine.

Why don’t you believe in a god? This is a difficult one to answer without appearing rude or offensive. The bottom-line, and most simple answer is that there’s no proof.

Are you really an atheist? Kind of insulting, but easy to answer. Atheists should not be drawn in by the temptation to be sarcastic. Leave out really from the question, or be young enough to excuse, and the answer is there. Test4

Are you absolutely sure there is not (are no) a god (gods)? The problem here is that the subject has now changed from belief to certainty. Absolute certainty of anything normally requires abundant proof of some sort – often, repeatable and testable evidence. My honest answer is no. I wonder what percentage of believers are absolutely sure of what they say they believe.

What happens when we die? Why would anyone ask this of an atheist? But again, easy for me to answer. I don’t know.

However, I still love this song. It’s fun and uplifting. Hear it Here (The Spirit In the Sky). Norm is something of a one-hit-wonder, but he wrote and sang a good one way back then. Interesting side note: while this is clearly a Christian song, Norman Greenbaum, to this day (age 73), is an observant Jew.

What if you’re wrong? That depends. Wrong about there being supernatural beings? Is that any different than being wrong about which religion, or which god is real or true? Again, I have no idea.

Without a god, where do you get your morality? First, I have some morality. Second, the same place you get yours. Morality comes from learning and being human. How often are immoral atrocities committed in the name of a god? Where do those offenders get their morality?

How does life have any meaning without a god? My life has meaning just as yours does. Mine may have more meaning to me than someone who believes they will be in Heaven or Paradise. I believe that this world is all there is for us (right here and now). As for the universe, it is the same but we only have access this part of it: Earth.

What about the love and appreciation of nature and art? We love nature as much as any believers, maybe more than some. I love art, read and write about it, and consider myself an artist. While atheists may not see nature as the work of a creator or supreme being, they have the same, if not more, appreciation of nature than believers do.

Where did the universe come from? This is where I might begin to lose it. Seriously? Do I have to explain the origin of the universe simply because I don’t believe there is a god to have created it? I don’t need to know and neither do you. Read Carl Sagan or something, then pick one of the theories. I was not there when it happened, no matter what my grandchildren think.

test1

What about miracles? Have you ever noticed how the number of miracles has reduced as methods to record them has increased? I don’t think there are supernatural beings out there to bring about miracles. Unexplained things have always happened and perhaps science never will explain everything. At times in the past, believers decided that unexplainable events were witchcraft, or from the devil, and not miracles from a good deity or spirit.

Why do you hate God? Do you hate Santa Claus? Or Krishna? Or Thor? Zeus, Jupiter, and Saturn are all gods. If you don’t believe in them, is it because you hate them? I’ve known believers who were angry with their god. I always thought that was awesome. Being angry with an omnipotent being has to be special. I guess their god wasn’t doing a good job.

Test6

I admit that face-to-face, such questioning events are rare, especially following someone’s commitment to atheism. But they happen and I think they are fair enough.

Test8 Personally, I don’t see why people shouldn’t discuss religion and atheism (or agnosticism or humanism, or any such subject), if they want. I realize two problems come into play. Human emotion and the need to defend turf, opinions, friends, or in some cases, a god.

Criticizing religion in general, or any religion specifically, is taboo. Oddly, that taboo is not applied equally to lack of religion or atheism. While insults and criticism may fly, I’ll wager that no atheist has marked someone for death because they criticized, or drew a picture of, anyone.

I hope that we can find ways to exchange ideas, discuss beliefs, and venture into better understanding of our diverse and complex world. I once had a man tell me this, “I don’t even know anyone who is not Christian.” How sad.

Recovery from Middle Age

When It Happened

Middle age is in my past. My t-shirt says, “Beware, second childhood in progress.” When people ask, I tell them it’s an old shirt. I’m long past that.

At 27, I knew everything (we all do). I would live forever. By age 40, I thought I might not live that long. Around then, I was sure that other’s opinion of me was paramount. I included everyone, especially any man who could possibly effect my life personally or financially.

Unfortunately, I often said what I thought – more than I would now. Today, I’m unlikely to answer personal questions. I may. But usually I want time to be calm and ponder consequences.

Back in the day, if my boss told me to do something that I felt was against my personal opinion, I would say, “No, sir.” Often, this happened in front of people. I enjoyed two things about it: watching him try to hide his anger (if he did) and some other middle-managers joining my mini-revolt. I wasn’t intentionally a trouble-maker. It just turned out that way.

What It Was Like

Looking back to my forties and fifties, a lot happened – both good and bad. But, I recall the difficult times well. In the 90s, I lived away from my family as a weekend commuter for two years. I drank way too much and began to ponder things that I’d never thought about. I was confused about life. I was not happy, and may have been clinically depressed. I was surrounded by others in worse shape than I, thus my problems went unnoticed. I was fine with that. Men do not have such issues, right? No longer did I feel safe. I didn’t understand the rules or what to do. I had morphed into a people pleaser, but I wouldn’t have admitted it.

Add to this, my wife had gone to work and was living as a single parent on weekdays (and nights). She had her issues too. And we had teenagers who’d aged up to their early twenties. Life was not easy for us or them – certainly not emotionally. Denial was my strength and maybe hers. Our dysfunctional family was extended and there were problems in that area over the horizon.

Possible Consequences

recovery from middle age1 I’ll spare you details. But during the 1990s all hell broke loose in my life and I thought it had gone into the proverbial toilet.

I recall giving consideration to suicide. I also seriously considered homicide. To be clear, while I never seriously intended either, I considered both as solutions as I never had. But then, I made an important decision. I decided that I would try everything possible to get over it. If my life was not working, it would not be my fault.

If you type middle age American male in Google, you’ll find articles relating to suicide, alcoholism and drug addiction, and the almost inevitable consequence of death. Middle age male suicide is a bigger problem today than 20 years ago. But I can relate to middle aged men today who secretly struggle with something they don’t understand. Looking back over the years, I think I figured out a few things.

What I Did

recovery from middle age2 I like to joke that I’m recovering from middle age. But, I am simply living my life. My life is good now, but recovery is an ongoing process. While many of my decisions may have been random, they seemed logical at the time. I was desperate, but knowing that I was not alone mattered.

I read books on self-help, mental health, and recovery – all were about mental and physical well-being. I attended counseling sessions for family members. I became active in a 12-step program. I started to learn about eastern religious thought and philosophy. I took a deep and detailed (analytical) look at myself. I did that twice, six months apart. This was much less about who I am and more about me being me, or me not being me, but being what others thought I should be. This may seem minor; it wasn’t.

My discovery was two-fold: I didn’t know myself, and I wasn’t being true to myself. I couldn’t be. This was important for me to figure out because the solution that followed was not complicated.

My change was from the inside-out, and from the outside-in. I simply was myself. While I could continue to be a good employee, a good friend, a reasonably nice person, and a willing family member; I no longer identified myself by what others thought I should be – what I should think or what I should feel. I was not only ‘okay’ with this. I was delighted. It was not a new me, but just me being me. That is the way I saw it. My motivation was inside and based on how I felt. But as I changed my behavior, that effected more emotional adjustments, which led to being more able to do more with my behavior.

recovery from middle age4

A short while after all this my son told my wife that he didn’t recognize me because of the changes. That was 20 years ago. I’ve hung onto that way of thinking ever since. Being comfortable as me (‘in my own skin’ is the cliché) did not change my life so much as it revealed my life to myself. Now, as a senior American male, I am still as wrong and as programmed as anyone. But when I realize my error, I’ve learned to admit it quickly.

How It Turns Out

As much as I like the phrase, it is what it is; I have my own motto: It is all about how we feel.

Probably my most positive boost has been retirement. No longer subject to the corporate nonsense and politics, I feel “free at last” to keep moving forward with my life on my terms. Virtually all that drama is in the past, and there it shall remain (at least for me).

May you find a path through life that is long and revealing. While giving up is an option, may you never choose it as long as you have any others yet to try. May your days of light be long and may your dark days pass quickly. May you be constantly aware; you are not alone. We are one.

The Art of Aging

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Forty years ago tomorrow, I was the father of two boys: one age five, the other was two (two years later we added a daughter to the pride). Tomorrow would be my 30th birthday.

I was the navigator on a B-52 bomber crew. I recall that as I was taking a shower about fifty yards (roughly 45 meters) from a nuclear armed airplane cocked and ready to go blow the crap of somebody, I was quietly lamenting my age.

B-52D Navigator's Position — B-52D Navigator’s Position

I would no longer be in my twenties. I thought that I was not young and never would be again. I was knocking on the door of middle age, or so I thought. I was feeling down because I was turning the dreaded big three-zero. “Don’t trust anyone over thirty” was the phrase. I still don’t really know what that means. I just knew it was bad.

Our society convinced me that I was getting old and that I should be sad about it. In four days, that five-year-old I mentioned turns 45. He and his 42-years young brother really are middle aged, and their baby sister is knocking on that door. I was not old, but I was depressed thinking that I was. Thanks to our shallow, f***ed-up, foolish American culture that values all the wrong stuff in people, my thinking was foolish (and not only about age).

birthday 70 1 Is it all that important to be a thin, white, dark-haired, strong, male member of this country? We seem to think so. I hope that continues to change.

We have to pass laws to keep people from discriminating against older people, and the age in the law is 40. WTF? Forty is not old. Again, forty is not old! At most, it’s lower-middle aged.

And if you plan to call this foul-mouthed, hard-drinking, Fightin’ Texas Aggie, Irish-Welshman elderly; you best be certain that you can kick his ass. Because this one is standing straight-up and walking your way (in silence) to demonstrate that old is not elderly!

But, I will indeed become a septuagenarian at midnight tonight. In the game of life, I will be at ‘Level 8.’ I’ve literally been there, done that, and have the scars to prove it (which I wear proudly). I am on a first-name basis with my cardiologists, and if my peripheral vascular surgeon would do a better job, I would be running three miles a day, instead of walking. I ride a Honda Forza motor scooter because my 800-pound, 2007 Yamaha Royal Star Tour Deluxe touring motorcycle got too heavy to pick up (last year). But I still ride on two wheels. I’ve retired from the jobs that pay, but I work every day. I’m a writer and do volunteer work. My only boss is the one I’ve been married to for 50 years.

I like people and I want them to like me. But I also don’t give a flying f**k what anyone else thinks of me or my opinions, politics, religion (or lack thereof), foul language, or beer breath. I do not, and never will, wear socks with sandals. I remain a teenager of the 60s.

birthsday 70 6 I am retired. All the shit/crap that I put up with for all those years of school (nuns-groan), yes, sir and no, sir; kissing up to very few idiot bosses (most were great), scrimping and saving and working – it was all worth it. As my wife would say, “Rave on, dog shit!” And so I do. Every day is a weekend and I can do what I want (with her permission—I’m old, not stupid) whenever.

I want to be happy and I am. My last meal will truly be a good pizza (my wife makes the best) and a fine stout brew. When the time comes, I want to walk into Dr. G’s office and say, “Time to shut it down, Doc. It’s been a great ride and I’ve loved it all. Let’s talk about the final git-er-done.” But that day is some ways off. Getting old is not dangerous, driving on our roads is.

Get ready big eight-zero ‘cuz here I come. ~ Me

birthday 70 3

I toast the good health of my birth year (1946) peers: Cher, Barry Gibb, George and Laura Bush, Bill Clinton, Donald Trump, Linda Ronstadt, Sally Field, Ed O’Neill, Reggie Jackson, Daryl Hall, Jimmy Buffett, Dolly Parton, Tommy Lee Jones, Al Green, Loni Anderson, Cheech Marin, and others. We’re still kickin’ the can down the road.

May you have love that never ends, much money, and many friends.

Health be yours, whatever you do and may the universe bless you and yours. Rock on, my friends.

I’ll publish my promised blog on creativity this next Friday. I am also tinkering with one on recovering from middle age (men only, I am unqualified for the experiences of the softer, better looking, and smarter sex) because I have been there and done that too.

	Dale on NaPo 2026 Day 3
	SelmaMartin on NaPoWriMo 2026 Day 2
	Dale on RRWG Day 2 prompt: Does anyone…
	Bill on RRWG Day 2 prompt: Does anyone…
	Dale on NaPoWriMo 2026 Day 2

Our Literary Journey

Driveling twaddle by an old flapdoodle.

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