Reflecting on a Saturday morning

As both my readers know, I did not post a Friday traditio yesterday. My reason for not posting one is that it was a busy week and a busy day. Life trumps blogging. Nonetheless, I readily admit to feeling a twang of guilt late yesterday afternoon for not putting one up but by that time I had no energy left. I realize that may sound ridiculous to either person reading this but blogging, writing, thinking, engaging are disciplines I find important to maintain. You see, disciplines, which are means, not ends in themselves, need to be done. I am one of those people who is either all in or not in at all. In a word, I am passionate.

It's funny, I used to lay into myself for being so passionate, really let myself have it: "Why can't I be more cool and detached, more deliberative?" One grace of growing older is that it's nice not only to become more and more okay with who I am and how I am but to actually embrace myself for it. I have come to see that Stoicism is often mistaken for Christianity. This is a mistake, plain and simple, one that leads to disaster pretty often. This is not to say Stoicism is without value. It is to say it needs to be seen for what it is and not mistaken for something else.

Is my passion sometimes misplaced? Sure. But this is a risk inherent in life. Counter-intuitively, since I've lightened up on myself I find it easier to be prudent, a bit more measured. I have also learned that wearing my heart on my sleeve can result in a wounded heart. Even when I used to see being passionate as a vice, I would sometimes think how gray, flat, and two-dimensional life would be were I not so passionate. My passion is a God-given gift. I am not sure why it took me so long to realize this. Like all gifts, it needs to be channeled for the good.

Thursday evening I attended a Bruce Cockburn concert with a very dear friend. She took me to this concert for my birthday. Yes, I have the most wonderful friends imaginable. I don't have a lot of friends. I have many, many friendly acquaintances, something for which I am also most grateful, but not a lot of friends. Anyway, she's been listening to Cockburn for awhile now. Given my love for the music of the late Mark Heard, who was friends with Bruce, she reasoned I would like Cockburn's music. Besides, an important part of our friendship over the years is our mutual love of music.

Boy, was she right! I sat in the concert thinking to myself: "How could I have missed Brice Cockburn's music all these years?!" I could think of at least 5 songs to post for a very late traditio but I am going with "Night Train" because it is a song that struck me in a particular way:

At 54 I am still waiting to hit that magic age when everything will become clear. All in all, this past week was a good birthday week. Another thing that took me a long time to realize is there are people who actually like me, that is, there are people who have known me for a long time (i.e., years and decades), who have hung with me through thick and thin, seen me at my best, worst, and most mediocre, and who inexplicably still love me, want to talk to me, spend time with me, etc. It's a kind of a miracle, really.