I must have been drunk or high on pain killers when I wrote my last post. Disjointed, even for me. I was going to remove it but thought better of that move. Who cares. I'm not trying to write the next great novel, just a guy venting, pontificating and hopefully being slightly amusing. So there (insert tongue sticking out emoji)
Now on to today. It's a Monday, after a very busy few days at work last week. And after that kind of busy you can imagine the tired feet and sore joints. It would be easy to think that the title of this blog post refers to that. Well, it doesn't. Certainly working "the line" is a young mans game, one I have no wish to play any more, and a number of 14 hour days can happen during busy times leading to the aforementioned aching feet, but this is about Yeats and the slow inevitable "decline" we go through as we age.
I will easily confess that I am no fan of poetry. My response to it is the same as Chandlers on the TV show Friends, what??? I come to little nuggets of poetry through what others write or say about the original or how they incorporate them into their own work. Call it the McNuggets if you will. Grasping at the low hanging fruit that may make me seem smarter than I really am, but that's not what grabs my attention or why I may use them, the McNuggets. I think it opens the door or window into exploring said art form. Same for music for me. Case in point: The West Wing, one of the top two shows ever in my books, had a wide casting net of music that was used on the show. One episode played a catchy, broody jazz piece that really caught my attention. I needed to find out about it. Turned out to be Take Five by Dave Brubeck (R.I.P) Great song used effectively. I learned more about the song and the artist, and thus, opened a new door for me to explore. Any art really does that for me, and maybe that's just good enough for the artist. Did my work cause something? Anything? Does it matter that you didn't get what I was conveying, but you did get something. That's pretty fucking cool in my book.
As usual, off in left field. Back to the title. Yes my feet hurt. But that's not the point. I feel it's about watching the perceived exuberance, risk taking and gumption (yes I used the word gumption) of young people while I "play it safe" and work for the man; fall into routine and comfort. Of course, when I was young I watched older people and thought, never. Never will I be that. Never will I be my parents. Ha!!! Most of us realize by our mid thirties that it's almost certain that you will. And happily so I say to you. My parents, in their own ways, are awesome. And my desire to set the world on fire with my talents has been replaced by an understanding that what is important to me now has nothing to do with what was important when I was 20. Decline? No, I don't think so. Wonder, understanding, dare I say - wisdom. These are the traits that I appreciate now and have come to understand that the important things aren't things at all. It is the experiences, the memories, family and friends. All of that. And so much more. I may have a year to live or I may have 40 years to live. Which ever it is, I hope that I spend my time being happy in whatever I am doing. Sucking every morsel from bone, marrow included. Life is too short to spend any time being miserable. Believe me on that point. In the end that is why I decided to leave my ex-wife. I was going through the motions. I wasn't happy any more in our relationship and despite repeated attempts to make changes, I knew it wouldn't change. And I couldn't do it any more. I recall the moment vividly and it was like a switch went off...not one more day. I cannot. It's been hard on a lot of people but I do not regret my choice. Which in the end is really what this is about...no regrets. Seems to be a theme running through the last few posts I think. I promise, next time I will take a different theme on. Ha!!!! You're so gullible.
So Sailing to Byzantium is not about the destination or the end, but about the journey, not leaving the world to youth as we stare into the abyss, but learning about new parts of the world, about ourselves, about each other. The whole unexamined life thing. See, I could bore you to death with all the answers that are out there already, but I won't. Or will I?
Enough for today.
Ciao
Daniel
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