I believe I'm in the midst of what the Scots might call a dour mood. I've no reason, but there just isn't much that seems to energize me or merit a happy face. Even the slice of blueberry pie my daughter just brought up to me hasn't lifted the veil. It was sure good, but only for the moment. I intend to wander around, looking at the dourness from different perspectives and see if there is some lesson to be learned.
We had over ninety people at my birthday party two weeks ago. I had a wonderful time, and I'm reasonably certain everyone else did too. I gave a short speech, led some singing, danced, talked with almost everyone, and just had a very good time. What is interesting about that is the number of people there who have since come up to me and told me that they could see that I was having a good time, and then threw in something like "We have never seen that that side of you before." That's surprising, because to my mind, I've always been like that, and it shouldn't have been surprising to anyone.
From a philosophical perspective, I believe that a mature person should be as close to fully integrated as possible. That means that there shouldn't be a separate personality for different parts of life: work, home, family, friends, church, etc. Certainly some skills will not transfer; for instance, it isn't likely that I would ever have the opportunity to lead a group singing when I was working. But basically, if the opportunity ever rose, it shouldn't surprise my co-workers that I would do it.
At core, I am an introvert. Maybe the singing, speaking in front of groups, out-going part of me is the introvert trying to shine. I am very good before groups of people, and I enjoy it. When I find myself in front I do well, but usually I am the observer, standing to the side, watching others. At the party, I knew that I was the center and allowed myself to act accordingly.
Another aspect of the dour mood is a realization that I am in my eighth decade. I've discovered that I want to do more, be more, know and see more. I have a feeling that there isn't enough time to do it all. My father died suddenly when he was 72, my mother was almost 90 and had some dementia when she gave up. I know damn well there isn't enough money to do, be, know or see it all. Added to that is recognizing that my mental capacity may slide away, and not allow me more of anything. Not yet, but will I know?
I enjoy observing life around me, but it is really a solitary activity. Too easily, observing separates me, not physically so much as mentally, and those around me sometimes mistake that for something it is not: aloofness, slow mentally, sometimes fear or anger. And I suppose when I'm observing myself I lose perspective and allow discouragement to move in, giving rise to the dour mood.
I've walked around this entirely too long. The dourness is not of any concern beyond immediate family and friends, and probably should not be examined not in a blog entry but in a diary.
We all have them sometimes, Jim. The important point is that they are not typical of you, do not define you, will be gone and leave the real you still in place.
As for that eighth decade: I know I haven't been there, yet, but my advice is to see it as exactly the same as the rest of your life. Many people worry when they hit thirty, forty, fifty ... but that lies within ourselves.
In any decade of your life so far, you could have walked under a bus or been shot or contracted a fatal illness or ... it happens to many. Any one of those would have cut short the time in which you could "do more, be more, know and see more". How much you can do and be is decided by your willingness (which I know you have in enviable spades) to do and be, every day, and not by fate. Doing and being and seeing are matters of the moment ... what separates us is how much we use EACH moment, THIS moment, whether it's a moment in our first decade or our tenth.
Posted by: Felix Grant | June 08, 2009 at 02:35 AM
PS:
By the time you read this, it will be a new day ... probably not a dour one :-)
Posted by: Felix Grant | June 08, 2009 at 02:37 AM