(R)age

I reluctantly sat down for a haircut a few days ago. Haircuts are one of my least favorite activities…not just for today but for as long as I can remember. The young lady who cut my hair was quick though and I knew my time in the chair would be gratefully short. After only s few minutes she finished and said, “All set? Are you happy?”

I looked into the mirror and a younger me stared back, one full of passion and rage, always pushing, always edgy, often recklessly. Often selfishly. Fire in the eyes. The years raced by in my mind like a black and white movie short. Rock and roll. College. Protests. Flying jets. Skiing. Relationships. Exotic places. Exotic people. Courtroom battles.

The barber’s slight push on the chair abruptly brought me back to the here and now and an old man stared back at me from the mirror. White hair. Deep wrinkles. Sad eyes. Today’s me. A wiser me? A me without rage? Without passion? Without time? Hmmm.

I think calm is my new companion, a tangible, touchable part of my psyche that’s changed rage’s sine wave and made life easier for me and those around me. My life is no longer played in a minor key with roaring timpani and brass. That’s a good thing.

Wiser? I don’t know so I guess not. I’m more deliberate, my judgements are less selfish and more universal. My world is not so laser focused on, well me. I think.

Do I still have passion? Certainly. Different kinds, of course. Passion for my wife, my family, my friends, the earth, any art, tolerance, peace.

My calm is often challenged by the weaponization of religion, hate, racism, bias, extremism. That spirals me back to Nixon, Watergate, Kent State, MLK, Jr., etc.

“Well?” she says, again slightly nudging my chair. I nod at the mirror, quickly look away and stand up. Until next time..