Not more, not less. Just different. So quiet, so plain, so human, and then not more, not less. Just different. I don't know why, but these words kept on repeating themselves inside my head even after minutes reading this piece of yours...
funny as they stayed with me too. "not more, not less, just different"..... the way he said it, looking to a place my eyes couldn't reach. Was quite an experience :)
I am retired and the above doesn't apply to me. That is OK. It feels like the man interviewed has dementia in that he cannot process his life like he used to. Fondly, Michael
I don’t know… I don’t know him except by seeing him every time I go to the village. always at the same hour, feeding the pigeons with a crackers pack. Sometimes speaking to self, low voice, never disturbing. Is someone I can’t avoid to notice because seems at the same time in peace and in pain.
WOW. Have you ever thought of ingratiating yourself by sitting down next to him and striking up a conversation? Could be PART II of this story. Fondy, Michael
In fact was exacly what I did. :) he looked suspicious, but I suppose he got used to see me too, carrying my bags from the car to the supermarket :) so accepted to talk a bit.
This spidered through my head… the words , the matter of fact way… the blank look… this(I’m going to use the word prompted, not triggered) this reflection of your outstanding article.
A life.
yes:)
I'll wait then until PART II 😀
:)))
Not more, not less. Just different. So quiet, so plain, so human, and then not more, not less. Just different. I don't know why, but these words kept on repeating themselves inside my head even after minutes reading this piece of yours...
funny as they stayed with me too. "not more, not less, just different"..... the way he said it, looking to a place my eyes couldn't reach. Was quite an experience :)
I am retired and the above doesn't apply to me. That is OK. It feels like the man interviewed has dementia in that he cannot process his life like he used to. Fondly, Michael
Speaks to himself... if speaks at all. Mostly he doesn't. Sits on the bench feeding the pigeons. Probably thinking about life.
Do not know anyone like that. What must it be like to live so inside oneself? Did something cause him to be that way? Thanks Sara. Fondly, Michael
I don’t know… I don’t know him except by seeing him every time I go to the village. always at the same hour, feeding the pigeons with a crackers pack. Sometimes speaking to self, low voice, never disturbing. Is someone I can’t avoid to notice because seems at the same time in peace and in pain.
WOW. Have you ever thought of ingratiating yourself by sitting down next to him and striking up a conversation? Could be PART II of this story. Fondy, Michael
In fact was exacly what I did. :) he looked suspicious, but I suppose he got used to see me too, carrying my bags from the car to the supermarket :) so accepted to talk a bit.
This spidered through my head… the words , the matter of fact way… the blank look… this(I’m going to use the word prompted, not triggered) this reflection of your outstanding article.
Thank you for such thought provoking words 🧡
Blessing or Betrayal
Our minds work in a way that
doesn’t promote truth.
When we think about
retirement or aging, we see it
as we are in the current moment…
just older. We don't want to,
or can’t, rationalize what the
changes are that could alter
the future. The brain
imagines the same self,
simply further along. It
doesn’t prepare us for
different.
And different is what arrives.
Not less. Not more. Just
different…the mind landing
at a new place, finding itself
unfamiliar.
The caring grows quieter.
Relief or loss. Perhaps both.
An uncertainty we don't see
coming.
And the routines… the ones
we thought held us back, now
become a way to remain in
life. Yet we are too tired to do
them. We don’t always get to
choose.
These are the unknowns that
scare me.
I often ponder if aging
is a blessing or a betrayal. I
suppose that’s the part we
don’t know.
And it's coming for us
whether we are ready or
not.
Maybe less, maybe more,
definitely different.
—FromTenderGround 🧡