My Pen Mates,
When its dark and cold outside, I cannot help but imagine how much tougher it is for someone who's actually out there. I remember my first Winter in this country; my cousin wakes me up to catch the carpool for the 22 mile ride to UCLA from Downey. The short walk from the front door to the garage jolts me awake, but more than that, it sets my mind reeling from the misery of those who have to daily brave the cold blast of air, sometimes accompanied my cold needles of freezing rain. Sometimes we arrive at the pick-up lot early which was dreadful because my cousin used to turn off the ignition. I'll take a short nap if it weren't for the cold keeping my mind awake. The rides to school were blissfully comforting and getting up twice before sunrise on weekdays became my norm.
Still, the idea that it bothered me as much as it did troubles me now more than it did then. It seems, in hindsight that I had poor constitution and was vulnerable than many to small things that people took for granted and were not inconvenienced with. Was I too sheltered growing up, or just not mentally tough to block out such a minor thing as the weather?
This last may be true. I've always been a quick, crisis management thinker. There has to be something urgent for me take notice, otherwise, my attention wanders and seeks other interests. Which is to say that my natural instinct was to find assistance for quick resolution, to team-build to get over the urgency and move on the norm. In my middle years, I seem more keen to my personal proclivities. Perhaps because my mind is slowing down and I rush less that I find time to reflect. I still find a lot of interests and manage to keep my mind sharp and focused; but my norm seem to have broadened and gone beyond the narrow confines of my comfort zone. The most valuable artifact of this change is my ability to adapt a perspective, especially of those who are disadvantaged or mislead. I've even of late taken to seeing myself through the eyes of my fourteen year old son. It is an odd and humbling experience to emphatize with someone so young and uncertain, yet in possession of boundless energy. It's crushing inside to consider the might-have-beens of parenthood-- even if you see yourself as doing a fine job as I do. It's such a complex of emotions and mental inertia to move forward given what has been. I guess that's the nature of love; you can trip, fall, triumph, succumb, and be content all at the same time. If love is in your heart, the coldest, dreariest day in winter is but a sensory perception. Love patches over the world's imperfections; the barren blossoms, the pain bearable, the doubt manageable, life renewable. The complexity never goes away, but love keeps you from watching too closely.
Mon
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