While out and about this week, it occurred to me that I feel differently about the arrival of autumn this year.
At first I thought it was because of plans to move West next spring – that I’m just looking at things differently because this will be my last fall in the Northeast.
But that isn’t it, really. It just feels different from anything I’ve ever experienced before.
Then I realized.
I’m 60 years old, in the autumn of my life (however vigorous and spunky I still remain).
This season resonates for me more than it ever has before.
But yesterday I should have thought me blest
To stand high-pinnacled upon the peak
Of middle life and look adown the bleak
And unfamiliar foreslope to the West,
Where solemn shadows all the land invest
And stilly voices, half-remembered, speak
Unfinished prophecy, and witch-fires freak
The haunted twilight of the Dark of Rest.
Yea, yesterday my soul was all aflame
To stay the shadow on the dial’s face
At manhood’s noonmark! Now, in God His name
I chide aloud the little interspace
Disparting me from Certitude, and fain
Would know the dream and vision ne’er again.
– Ambrose Bierce, under “Yesterday” in “The Devil’s Dictionary”
Unlike “Bitter Bierce,” fortunately, I’m on an even keel thanks to Theravadan Buddhism.
Or, as more modern philosophers put it (Los Lobos, per Ant Varandonis), life is a fly, and then you die:
Categories: Random thoughts