Being an old fool

Since I've always enjoyed looking at old photos, I've often wondered what a long life would feel like. I remember my dad being disgusted by people who never seemed to learn, and he would often say that "there's no fool like an old fool", and "we grow too soon old and too late smart". He was very impatient with people who never learned, and while he never actually showed me a tin of shoe polish and compared it to something that a dog had left on the lawn, I know that he taught me well. I never wanted to be an old fool.

Of course, you can just get old and never learn beyond a certain point. I've known people who call it "dropping anchor", maybe after high school, or whenever they feel that they're too old to learn. Speaking for myself, I wanted a long life to empower me, the way that Chiang did in the book "Jonathan Livingston Seagull". Chiang was not an old fool, he was a wise old master, and I wanted to grow from Jonathan into Chiang.

But most people never do more than simply get old. I see those people all of the time, and I try to be understanding. I try to smile kindly, and assure them that they're OK. People who dislike me often consider it a condescending attitude, but it's really not - I remember people who were patient with me when I was young, and I always wanted to grow up to be that sort of person. And yes, it's a kindly smile, even though some people may describe my smile as "grinning like an ape". I'm smiling right now.

I have flown high, and I plan on flying higher. My wings may not be as young as they used to be, but I'm empowered by the lessons I've learned along the way. And I will grow old, there's no doubt of that, but I will never be an old fool.

"I want to learn to fly like that," Jonathan said, and a strange light glowed in his eyes. "Tell me what to do."

Chiang spoke slowly and watched the younger gull ever so carefully. "To fly as fast as thought, to anywhere that is," he said, "you must begin by knowing that you have already arrived." The trick, according to Chiang, was for Jonathan to stop seeing himself as trapped inside a limited body that had a forty-two-inch wingspan and performance that could be plotted on a chart. The trick was to know that his true nature lived, as perfect as an unwritten number, everywhere at once across space and time.

Thank you for the encouragement! If you want to see daily pics of my adventures on my recumbent trike in suburban Phoenix (just for fun, of course!) you can follow me on Buy me a coffee, and you can buy me a coffee if you'd like to: