NOTES FROM THE EIGHTH DECADE #13 NIGHT & DAY

NIGHT & DAY

August 2013

For years my life was defined by the events and circumstances (work, play, emotional and physical health, etc.) of the day at hand.  But recently a strange transition seems to be occurring. The days are taking on an increasing sameness, while the nights, which have always been consistently void of anything but dreams, are becoming unique. How many times will I wake up because of pain in my legs, back, or neck?  Will I have to get up to pee, or will one of the dogs have to go out?  Will Patience poke me and tell me to roll over because I’m snoring? Sometimes I wake up on my own and find that I am wide-awake at 3 A.M. I may eventually fall back to sleep, or get up and go into my study and read or listen to music. Or perhaps a profound dreams will wake me up, and I’ll find myself in that intermediate state between awakeness and sleep, not knowing if I am consciously continuing the dream or not.

While the days are becoming predictable, the nights are taking on a

life of their own. When the bedside light goes out I have no idea what adventure awaits me.

NOTES FROM THE EIGHT DECADE #12

BETWEEN YESTERDAY AND TOMORROW

June 2013

Now, resting between yesterday and tomorrow, my understanding of myself is becoming blurred by time.

The accumulation of years, 74 to be exact, seems to have blurred my understanding of who and what I am. I have a reasonably good idea of who I have been, and what I have, and have not accomplished during my lifetime. The goals, desires, and aspirations that have guided me, although somewhat depleted, continue to bounce about in my head, as modest and grandiose as ever. However they have difficulty getting traction because the years have worn away some of the unbridled ambition and enthusiasm that never failed to convinced me I was in charge of my future.

This revelation – if I can call it that – came about as I grapple with the difficulties of trying to live in the moment, a concept that has taken on more importance in recent years. Having lived my entire life with one foot firmly planted in the future, grounding myself entirely in the present is proving to be difficult. Even in their “depleted” state, goals and aspirations intrude on the day at hand, pulling me into the tomorrows. The fact that at age 74 they are poorly defined only adds to the difficulty. What is a soul to do?

One option is to simply stopping thinking about it. Take my eyes off of my navel and stop all the ruminating, a sort of “buck up Gonzo” approach. Heaven knows how many times I have tried this. Unfortunately any success I may have had was always temporary.

Or, I can do what I always do…write about it, and if I’m lucky, by the time I finish doing so the issue will no longer exist.

So what will it be?  I’ll have to think about that.

NOTES FROM THE 8TH DECADE #11

RESILIENCE   How well does it age?

October 2012

My first gallery show was a two-man show in 1977, and all of my work sold at the opening reception. For the next twenty years I sold almost everything I painted. When I moved to Paducah, over 900 miles from my home of forty years, I knew I would have to build a new client base, and was confident I could do so. After a few years of promoting my work and myself I succeeded in establishing a fairly consistent market for my art. Sales remained consistent, even through 4 years of a failing economy, until this year, when, as abruptly as turning off a faucet, they diminished to a depressing trickle.

I have had lulls before, but never like this. The past ten months have seen the fewest sales since coming to Paducah. Suddenly I find myself being tested, facing serious questions about my future; how viable is my art, can I recover the market I seem to have lost, what can I do to reverse this situation, and is it time for me to begin putting the paints away? Underlining all of these questions is an awareness of my age, increasingly a major factor in so many of my considerations these days.

Which leads me to the issue prompting this narrative…how resilient am I at this stage in my life?  When I began writing this, I was prepared to delve into the complex issue of aging, and how it affects our emotional and psychological attitudes toward the “stuff of life”. But at this very moment, the answer suddenly seems quite simple, physical issues aside; we are only as old as we allow ourselves to be. Or, as the old adage tells us, “you are as young as you feel”.

Adding years to our life entices us to think we must be changing, because after all, older people are different from younger ones. That is why all of my self-reflection begins with the reminder that I am 73 years old. This type of thinking is an insidious process that quietly skews our attitude and re-enforces the stereotypes of ageing. Recently I have begun to appreciate how mistaken I have been.

Age is irrelevant in dealing with problems and issues with my work at this stage in life. All that matters is my willingness to commit to the task at hand.

Note…according to actuarial data, a 73 year-old man can expect to live another 11.82 years. Now that is something I can hang my hat on.