I remember thinking as a young adult, that there are some men out there in our culture, who continue growing stronger all the way up to age 50. I imagined that these strength-gaining characters would be mostly lumberjacks, ship captains and such, but the fact remained that some men were actually gaining larger barrel chests up ‘til age 50.
Another part of me wondered if there was some secret wisdom, whispered into men’s dropsy ears, upon their significant turnover to fifty. Then just this week, I realized that if you count the time from my conception day, I have completed forty-nine years; thus am beginning the first week of 50.
With this in mind, this morning, I showed a friend the recent WR Journal article, regarding visionary librarians and the follow up. She asked what was it that allowed me to see such things. I answered that I usually seemed to have a certain knack to grasp several subjects from far reaches and then develop interesting connections, through either relative stories or simple joke like parables. I continued that although I have seen little monetary gain from this dedicated writing, it’s clear that I should continue upon this path.
I claimed a certain confidence in being able to write inspiring letters of pubic interest, well-flowing poems, etc, because I knew that those stories were there waiting to be connected and since I was adept at doing so, it might as well be me continuing to uncover them.
Then my friend swooped back with a gentle, but piecing question, “So why is it then, that you don’t have this same level of confidence in yourself -apart from your writing?”
For five long seconds, her insight stunned me. However, deep within, I found the slow fortitude, to thank her for asking such a concerned question. Her pricking of this blind spot resonated for day’s remainder and I slowly become thankful for the strength of this esoteric fiftieth gift.
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