I remember once reading that your late 50s and early 60s are a time when you can get the most conservative and resistant to change: the siren call of nostalgia- ‘things were better then’ , an awareness that everything that is touted as ‘the next big thing’ you’ve seen in at least three different iterations over the last thirty years and ‘Why can’t I understand the music on Radio One anymore?’
Sometimes this can lead to bitterness, a willingness to share angry (and often untrue) memes and a tendency to circle the wagons ever tighter in an attempt to ward off change or anything threatening (a list which gets ever longer…) . I’m tired of angry men and powerful rich men using their status to promote their unfiltered bile and how they are carrying other people in their sway…
It is hard knowing that things are changing and your cultural dominance is receding.
There’s a verse in the Good Book that didn’t mean much to me in my twenties:-
Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about[ these things.
As I reach the end of my 50s, I need to hear words like this again and again: I can become so jaded. If I’m going to fight against anything without becoming bitter, I first of all need Hope, goodness and places where I can meditate and gain strength from what is good.
Family is a given and I’m very fortunate, but today I celebrate some of those other things that are honourable, just, pure, pleasing and commendable that keep me from cynicism & despair :-
-People who have faith that seems surer and more certain than mine and hold it amidst great pain and loss.
-The beauty of an unexpected encounter: ‘the stranger on a train’ – who carries light and hope.
– Those who have the courage to step outside their immediate social circle and find common cause with someone different.
-Those of faith, no faith or just unsure that seem to radiate goodness and yet feel little need to dwell on their own achievements or significance in doing so.
-People who’ve opened up their lives with me and that overwhelming sense I get of ‘be careful where you tread for this is holy ground’.
-Long, solo walks where every moment , tree, grass seems lit up with wonder.
-Friendships that feel safe and with no need to prove oneself. The lyric from Hope and Social is helpful here: ‘Soak yourself in people and drench yourself with light’ is helpful here.
-Those who refuse- pace Mother Theresa- to draw the circle of their family too tightly.
But there is so much more : a warm bed, after a quarter of a century a home that is ourssingle malt whisky, the feeling after a run, real ale, vinyl records, pies… and do on.
That’s why- as the title of this blog suggests- at the beginning of my 60th year I hope to remain ‘wearily hopeful’.
…we’ll see….
..I might even write more.
Wearily Hopeful 