I know I write about writing too much and it kind of annoys me, too. It’s hard, because I consider it such a privilege to sit here by myself, lost in some thoughts I’ve been banging around, then I write in the best way I know how at that moment and press a button. Usually, right after I finish a piece, I’m feeling good about myself and I do my own kind of celebrating, good for about 48 hours.
It doesn’t take me long to look at the posted date and start feeling some pressure to get back to it. You know, I don’t make a dime off any of this stuff and I swear to God, my reward is to disarm with my honesty. Let me be clear, there is no brilliance in honesty and being on this page with you is an idea I can’t get used to and never will.
I love trying to come up with marketable hooks, been doing it for decades. It’s such a trip. It’s like I am being paid to publish and there are deadlines, which are only between my ears at this point. Man, I’ve been thinking about getting older for a bunch of years now. I had one of my Nike, “Just Do It” moments and the words were Grey Matters. I didn’t have to waste any time to know that it has been used to death, oops.
I loved the multiple meanings that put me right where I am. Being older than most matters. It’s so hard to explain, though. There are fewer illusions up here. Sometimes, I even think I am speaking a different language, only to myself, so don’t get nervous. I had an MRI done on my brain and I swear I can’t recall the reason right now, oh yeah, that’s another thing that happens. Everything was fine in the report, except for one kind of off-handed reference.
As we get older, the brain also gets caught up in the downsizing. It has something to do with the gradual dehydration of the body. When you think about our cycle of life, water is the engine that runs the show and it kind of makes sense when you look at it that way. The short paragraph indicating that my brain showed routine shrinkage signs consistent with age, caught my goddamn attention. I came to terms with the chicken neck and hairy ears a while ago, but the brain thing made me think. I couldn’t resist.
Our lives are spent moving through stages, time’s continuum. We seem to always be adjusting to changes that have occurred or are about to, something is always going to be next. There were infinite forces at play that miraculously got me to Kauai. Having serious mental issues with winter was very high on the list. You see where I am going with the winter thing? You’re right, I have entered the winter of my time here. While I will always try to have a spring in my gait, the grey will not turn to green.
I am sure everyone has caught themselves at one time or another, putting something off for another time, whatever the reason or excuse. It is very different up here and what has always worked doesn’t necessarily work anymore. I definitely think about my age more than I used to, because time is in a slightly different place now for me. Hell, if you asked a teenage girl, she’d probably give you an earful about it as well.
I have been where you are, but most of you haven’t gotten here yet and there’s no real hurry. I have had suitcases of experience, probably more than most. Around six years ago, I finished chronicling my adventures in a gift for my very young grandson. I told all my best stories and they are now preserved on the printed page. Aside from being in shock that I actually wrote a book, it ranks as one of my all time great accomplishments, way more important that quitting smoking when I was around twenty-six, but going from three packs of Pall Mall to zero was still big.
The book is called Halloween in Portland and there is usually an Amazon box in the trunk of my car. Listen, if you have gotten this far in this one story, you might enjoy the book and it’s free to you, only if you live here. I spent an intense year and half writing my story and when I finished, I had a problem. I fell in love with the act of writing, but I didn’t want to keep telling my stories in that way. I was still intent on ignoring grammar and screwing up punctuation, but facts didn’t seem to matter in the same way.
You probably think I forgot all about Grey Matters by now, but you are clearly wrong. I want to make something very clear about all this, it is not about dying, it is about living, but it is different than anything you can imagine, unless you’re here. This kind of winter is part of life’s seasons and it doesn’t feel at all cold to me. Sometimes, I feel the warmth from the lantern of life, lighting up my inner world in ways I never imagined before now, seeing so much for the first time..
Imagine if you had your closest friend for your entire life? It got to a point where you could predict his moves, sometimes before he even knew. You finish his sentences for him. For every moment of your life, this person experienced every single thing right with you as it happened. When there was no one else, there was always him. You know, maybe that’s thing, you achieve a level of familiarity without precedent and it takes time, a lot of time and even more luck.
Grey matters and it is a brilliantly, vibrant color.