An old war horse like me

An old war horse like me

I am not really into all this ‘soft male’ or ‘metro-sexual’ kind of thing.  Of course some of it is because of my age, though even if I was young, I doubt I would want to be that gentle or in touch with my emotions and feelings the way that many seem to be today.   After saying that, when studying how our cultural is changing, I can see some good in the above….even if at times it may be taken way too far.  Though of course I am speaking from the perspective of being old and out touch with the mind set of young people…. which is as it should be. 

Possibly the older generation has something to share, but if the older generation always had its way, then we would still be back in the Stone Age.  We are meant to be by-passed, just as today’s young will one day be by passed by the up coming generation.  It is when the wisdom of the past is lost, or mocked, that I believe that cultures die.  When the roots of a cultures past are cut off, then everything dries up and dies. 

Head and heart, rational thought, thinking, being objective (which is an illusion I suppose), is something that I value. To the point where there are many instances where I don’t know what my emotions and feelings are at any one point.  As I age I find that this is not helpful and perhaps even has an effect on my health.  I know that illness has physical component, but there is also the psychosomatic, which also plays a role.  My asthma for instances is real, but the fact that it flares up from time to time, I feel is based my life long habit of stuffing certain types of emotions. A habit, that is life long and pertains to the ‘softer’, or if you must, more feminine aspect of my inner life. 

When I was 40 I went to a friend of mine who was a therapist for about two years.  I saw him once a month, which was all I could take and I spent a fair amount of time disassociating when speaking.  When this happened, he conked out, it was funny.  I would be talking about something real, he was with me, then he would get sleepy and his head would fall over.  It happened every time I left the emotional material and went to the head and started intellectualizing.  In any case, he helped me enough to extend my life.  The reason I went to him was because I could sense my body wearing down with all the energy I spent in keeping my emotions in check.  So I guess I am a little further along on the road, but I often feel like I am only on the first mile of a hundred mile journey. 

The other day I was talking about a friend who is dying on the phone with another person that I trust.  To my surprise I totally broke down, something I have not done I suppose since I was 15 or so.  So perhaps there is hope for an old war horse like me; maybe I have started the second mile, finally.