Sometimes you are old, but sometimes you are young,
Sometimes you’re prudent, but never are you wise,
Fights left unwon, stop the fight,
My exhaustion for ideals carries
the forgiveness of compromise.

Sometimes you’re too old to be as young as you are
Who can you wail to, who can you ask for help,
Will this always feel like your last chance?
Hard work layered on top of hard work half-remembered
Noone owes me guidance, but here’s my gratitude.

I’m still brewing a response to Valerie’s song, but it may be that I don’t have a song with this particular theme in me at this time.

I admire Valerie’s clever take on life’s ups and downs and maybe so blown away by her humour-filled ironic creation that I can’t think of anything else to say.

For days, I’ve been trying to think of something more profound, or just something more… maybe posting will get this jangle out of my head.
xo jyanti

I agree with Valerie that the gift of Love should be celebrated all year around, not just at one time of year. And if it means, given to myself on the couch, then so be it, because it means I really needed it at the time.

And cool, we all get to learn and relearn the idea that if we just let whatever we feel be…it ultimately resolves itself. No use getting anxious about being anxious. I’ve finally learned that after 54 years! No one ever said I was a quick study! ;o)

So let’s celebrate love, being loved, self love, being anxious without being anxious about it, and plenty of couch time if that’s what you need. There is something to be said of siesta times. It’s a daily reminder to renew yourself.

Recently my very religious (Christian) sibling emailed me and said, “My wish for Christmas is that you and the kids know the true meaning of Christmas.” I told her “Yup, we do…It’s called Love.”

I really like this post. Especially your third last paragraph (the one with the couch.) Just tingling in my brain right where I keep hurting, or perhaps, tingling in my life. It’s also interesting and useful that my anxiety and insecurity are slanted just a bit differently.

My grounded, steady sister keeps reminding me that most people feel that they’re just getting by, faking some, hoping some. And that most people feel that most other people have way more clue than they do, most people worry that others fit into the world better than themselves. My father was often amazed that he had gotten by, (in this country/ as a grown-up/ as a father and husband) and to outward appearances, he was highly successful in many ways. Somehow my father had shed enough of the angst, that he could show that core of sheer amazement. (He was older than we are.)

Spiritually, I don’t know either. I find an ongoing connection between doubt, (mostly a drawback) and obsessive double check did I do it wrong doubt, (shee-yit), and humility (mostly good, this-size-fits, clear eyed, with a restful potential.)

Spiritually, in a lot of ways, I value inarticulation, but I’m not sure if any of those relate. I guess amazement is spiritual.

You said it better, but here goes me. The world beyond the couch fits all. It’s our world. We’re not the cogs which the machine possesses, we are the thinga mi jiggers that create and recreate the machine. It’s our machine, it’s our society/ societies, it’s not the society that possesses us. I exist. You exist.

Uh, yeah. Yanno, then there are these times when I value articulation, oh lofty and elusive goal.

;-) jyanti