Transitions. I’ve been told there are several in life. My gut tells me there are only a few that matter. In spite of our self-conscious decision that we will always remain the same… cool, collected, 'du jour' …we change. No matter our resolve.
Interests. Perspectives. Attitudes. They shift.
Funny thing is that the transition begins as an unconscious effort, but midway through it, it dawns on you. More than likely when you find yourself enjoying something that you previously detested. “Wait, didn’t I hate cutting mushrooms? Hmmm this wine has a pungent smell.” Next thing you know you’re going through cookbooks and using words such as complexity, character and finishing to describe your beverages.
What does this mean? Age is obvious. But there has to be more to that. I’m not sure exactly what, but one thing I do know is that while others can warn you about ‘crossing overs’, they cannot tell you what it means...or feels like. To each his own as the saying goes. A critical person, a cynic perhaps, will immediately tell you its part of a cycle that will ultimately lead to crisis...and while trials will come, our paths are decided by us. God wouldn’t have it any other way.
So here I am. Doing the unthinkable only months ago. Using the written word to help me understand my transition(s) and the newfound joys, successes and failures that stem from them. And probably more importantly what these experiences mean.
No comments:
Post a Comment