Moody Blues

I am a moody soul. Hard to read. Difficult to understand. Grumpy and old enough now not to care. I’m no longer in icing mode – icing over the issues, the ugly, the indifference I feel sometimes.

Much of this feels like a right of passage to maturity, age. Some of it is sad, putting aside the striving of youth – that striving that is very much a reach for Nirvana, the perfect that should be but isn’t. Somewhere between the two is the calm of enlightenment I’m sure of it, the understanding of what should be and what is but also the acceptance of our place in it all.

I feel you must pass through both phases, the idealist and the cynic, to reach the loftier goal of peace of mind. I’d like to think I’m closer than I was right now even if I’m also grumpier. It’s why I like hanging out with younger people, at least the ones that are uplifting and naive and glorious in their beliefs.

The saddest thing is when I see younger people in my state of cynicism and disbelief. I feel they are missing an important part of the journey and if I’m being selfish honest, I feel their skipping of this step endangers all of us on this path to truth. You have to embrace with foolish abandonment the possibility before you can turn a cold shoulder on all the things that ultimately get beaten up on the road of life – hope, love, kindness, joy.

So I’d like to argue to the youngers that you have to maintain your idealism, wrap your arms around the future you want because the rest of us who are growling along already did our part (and if we didn’t shame on us) but your job now is to carry the torch. Light the way so to speak while the rest of us grumble that our torches got us lost. We’re counting on you in ways I’m only just now understanding.

Published by miasotowrites

Wannabe Writer Tired Mother Aspiring Slacker

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