I am a vain man. I wish that I wasn’t, and I am working on it, but appearances matter to me.
Philosophically, spiritually, I know I should not be attached to the skin of things, for it is all superficial and passing. Yet, losing my hair, in my forties, affected me, somehow. By my mid forties, I could not bear to see it thinning and receding any longer & decided to shave my head…
Below, are two short meditation on aging:
Liberation
In the mirror, old age is peering through
my features grow indistinct, more distant
blurring the iron bars of personality.
Middle Age
Being 45 is like 4:30 in the afternoon
it's not late, but it's not early, either
You had a fine start, much was achieved
but, now, a wave of drowsiness descends
Certainly, you're not ready to call it a day—
time to look up and take a little break
Cut up a fruit, maybe, some nuts for your heart
while you sip from a cup of mint tea and honey
A sigh escapes as you reflect upon
what to do with the remains of your day
You might decide to forego that nap
keep awake a little longer, go for a walk
Good idea to clear your head, while taking
in the splendor of the setting sun, soon
You can raise the blinds, before you head out
the softer light won't harm your furniture.