My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Monday, December 7, 2015
The Distress We Carry
Growing old enables you to relinquish fears and anxieties that are more global in nature, passing them to another generation who may agonize about them if they wish, becoming angered and pained by what ought not to be. It is the role of younger people to become distraught and demanding of change. It is something to occupy them in the days between childhood and a time of quiet. Hopefully, they will be more ready to see and accept the quiet, more willing to relinquish the world's distress, and maybe one day there will be no distress to let go of, no anxiety to pass on.
Labels:
acceptance,
action,
activism,
aging,
anxiety,
childhood,
letting go,
worry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment