Je est un autre.
I is another.
By that riffing, bawdy, Baud(y) Rim(e-r).
An aspiring seer and poet in his early years – intrepid coffee trader and arms dealer latterly.
What faces did we used to wear in our past lives, or even within this present one?
The summertime of my life approaches its solstice zenith. Much work to do before my summer-fallow is done. That hallowed ground is not ripe for harvesting yet. Gotta keep my head tightly screwed on.
Time to put on a new face.
Life is a wave of events. You don’t come of age; you just age. To come of age is merely to live long enough to do so.
Although it flies in the face of what our stories have taught us for generations, a new understanding of coming of age, in which there is no direct path to maturity, no single ‘self’ that might be discovered or created, has the potential to be incredibly freeing. If one wishes, one can stand in the rain, watching a carousel, finally feeling grown-up. But, just as legitimately, one can simply experience it and enjoy it, and not feel the pressure to make anything of it all.
Finding something else for one’s second half of life to be about is always respectable. After all,
Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you wanna do with your life; the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives; some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.
-The Sunscreen Song
As did Bawa.
da Vinci undoubtedly.
And of course, that Carpenter turned Fisher-of-men.
I am in good company.