The Fly Seeks Wisdom
One of the things I've discovered over the years is that members of my generation utilize the wisdom of our geriatric brethren on a minimal basis. Sure, there are some senile old whack jobs out there with Alzheimer's, or dementia, or whatever; however, there are many folks out there who are a veritable repository of useful wisdom and information. Maybe I'm ahead of the curve on this one single thing, but I've made it a policy of making copious use of this untapped natural resource.
Today I had lunch with a good friend of mine, who suggested in an E-Mail that if he were ever to comment on the blog (he reads it, by the way), he'd probably use a name like "Father Time" or something. At any rate, Father Time and I went to the local Hungarian restaurant and talked shop for an hour and a half or so. Women, banking, blogging... We covered a great deal.
One of the things that is going to stick with me from this conversation with Father Time is his insistence that before a person is ready to settle down, that person needs to know how to be alone. They don't need to like it; but they need to be comfortable with it. They need to be capable of standing on their own two feet, before they're ready to stand with someone else. This is something I used to tell CCG; she never listened to it, of course, but I told her. It's advice that I've given, but that I'd forgotten for myself.
I think that I'm going to be in a position, sooner rather than later, to be alone. I think that, at some point in the not-so-distant future, I'm going to be alone in a flat, left to my own devices. I've been wondering lately what I'll be like. Will I play my X-Box a lot? Will I read a lot? Will I burn candles? Will I spend my nights studying Latin and Arabic, or will I spend them watching Sports Night and MI-5? The point isn't what I'm going to do; the point is that I'm going to be in a position to be alone, and that's going to teach me about who I am, what I need out of life, and various other important things.
According to Father Time, I don't have to enjoy it, but it's an important thing to do. Sometimes, if you're patient, stop, and listen, you can learn from the experiences of others, and bypass their lessons by learning from them. That's a blessing, and at this point in my life, I'm in a position to appreciate even the smallest blessings.
Today I had lunch with a good friend of mine, who suggested in an E-Mail that if he were ever to comment on the blog (he reads it, by the way), he'd probably use a name like "Father Time" or something. At any rate, Father Time and I went to the local Hungarian restaurant and talked shop for an hour and a half or so. Women, banking, blogging... We covered a great deal.
One of the things that is going to stick with me from this conversation with Father Time is his insistence that before a person is ready to settle down, that person needs to know how to be alone. They don't need to like it; but they need to be comfortable with it. They need to be capable of standing on their own two feet, before they're ready to stand with someone else. This is something I used to tell CCG; she never listened to it, of course, but I told her. It's advice that I've given, but that I'd forgotten for myself.
I think that I'm going to be in a position, sooner rather than later, to be alone. I think that, at some point in the not-so-distant future, I'm going to be alone in a flat, left to my own devices. I've been wondering lately what I'll be like. Will I play my X-Box a lot? Will I read a lot? Will I burn candles? Will I spend my nights studying Latin and Arabic, or will I spend them watching Sports Night and MI-5? The point isn't what I'm going to do; the point is that I'm going to be in a position to be alone, and that's going to teach me about who I am, what I need out of life, and various other important things.
According to Father Time, I don't have to enjoy it, but it's an important thing to do. Sometimes, if you're patient, stop, and listen, you can learn from the experiences of others, and bypass their lessons by learning from them. That's a blessing, and at this point in my life, I'm in a position to appreciate even the smallest blessings.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home