酷我-北美枫

[ericcoliu]

Growing Old


French dramatist Victor Hugo once said that forty is the old age of youth. I agree with his words, completely. Since I passed the age of forty, I have become more anxious about growing old.

Days go by, hair whitens, hands age, veins appear, and sad wrinkles set in around the lips. The back begins to ache; teeth become loose. The voice acquires a hoarseness that some find charming. The body grows dry and brittle, like a bare tree in winter, and one day it will no longer respond. I am dreading that day. Everything seems to have passed me by; I yearn for unseized moments. The high expectations of youth have given way to the sad acceptance that my life has been and will be uneventful: just a series of life events. Sometimes a sense of sadness creeps into my chest, like a needle probing my ribs. I'm not happy; yet I'm not looking for happiness.

One day at dusk I sat in front of my Dell computer scanning one by one the bright, promising smiles of my childhood, youth, and early thirties. The setting sun sank slowly on my glasses and in the deep of the computer screen a gloomy and bemused face was mirrored. I could use Photoshop to erase the wrinkles on my face, but I couldn’t obliterate the blotches of my life.

Faced with this irreconcilable situation of technological advancement and the human condition, a man like me after forty finds himself sluggishly and powerlessly playing tug-of-war with time. He is destined to go through the aging process, and regardless of how people around him solemnly swear that he still looks young and energetic, he knows he is not what he once was.

I have passed the day making meals, eating, cleaning, doing grocery shopping, reading, watching TV programs, chatting with my wife, doing research on the core idea of Taeko Doi's thesis about the Japanese psyche, and writing of this moment of my "lifespan". Another day of my life will pass by. I'll be one day older than I was yesterday, and one day closer to the end of my life. As the sun sets behind the mountains, so do the minutes of my life hasten to their end.

Sometimes, I feel compelled to live to stop death: We all do in our rejuvenating, botaxing, dieting, and skin softening (feel free to add another verb if you like). All of these acts just stall this evil. The daily routine is the true king of terrors. Yet what do I really know about death? Nothing! Nobody comes back to shore. Maybe there is a moment in your life, when your mind out-lives its obsessions, when your habits survive your dreams, when your losses ... Maybe death is a precious gift given to human beings.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

Growing Old


French dramatist Victor Hugo once said that forty is the old age of youth. I agree with his words, completely. Since I passed the age of forty, I have become more anxious about growing old.

Days go by, hair whitens, hands age, veins appear, and sad wrinkles set in around the lips. The back begins to ache; teeth become loose. The voice acquires a hoarseness that some find charming. The body grows dry and brittle, like a bare tree in winter, and one day it will no longer respond. I am dreading that day. Everything seems to have passed me by; I yearn for unseized moments. The high expectations of youth have given way to the sad acceptance that my life has been and will be uneventful: just a series of life events. Sometimes a sense of sadness creeps into my chest, like a needle probing my ribs. I'm not happy; yet I'm not looking for happiness.

One day at dusk I sat in front of my Dell computer scanning one by one the bright, promising smiles of my childhood, youth, and early thirties. The setting sun sank slowly on my glasses and in the deep of the computer screen a gloomy and bemused face was mirrored. I could use Photoshop to erase the wrinkles on my face, but I couldn’t obliterate the blotches of my life.

Faced with this irreconcilable situation of technological advancement and the human condition, a man like me after forty finds himself sluggishly and powerlessly playing tug-of-war with time. He is destined to go through the aging process, and regardless of how people around him solemnly swear that he still looks young and energetic, he knows he is not what he once was.

I have passed the day making meals, eating, cleaning, doing grocery shopping, reading, watching TV programs, chatting with my wife, doing research on the core idea of Taeko Doi's thesis about the Japanese psyche, and writing of this moment of my "lifespan". Another day of my life will pass by. I'll be one day older than I was yesterday, and one day closer to the end of my life. As the sun sets behind the mountains, so do the minutes of my life hasten to their end.

Sometimes, I feel compelled to live to stop death: We all do in our rejuvenating, botaxing, dieting, and skin softening (feel free to add another verb if you like). All of these acts just stall this evil. The daily routine is the true king of terrors. Yet what do I really know about death? Nothing! Nobody comes back to shore. Maybe there is a moment in your life, when your mind out-lives its obsessions, when your habits survive your dreams, when your losses ... Maybe death is a precious gift given to human beings.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[ericcoliu]

One day has passed. Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

One day has passed. Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[Champagne]

[[Champagne]]

[ericcoliu]

[[ericcoliu]]

[星子]

I fear to grow old, I guess.
Thus I always try to keep my youthful heart.

Today I talked with the old man, Rashi. He told me one thousands year ago or later, I were him... It shocked me.

He is an editor, and encourage me to write. He said, "Anytime you need confidence in yourself, please talk to him. " But I only knew him a few weeks ago.
_________________

[[ANNA]]

I fear to grow old, I guess.
Thus I always try to keep my youthful heart.

Today I talked with the old man, Rashi. He told me one thousands year ago or later, I were him... It shocked me.

He is an editor, and encourage me to write. He said, "Anytime you need confidence in yourself, please talk to him. " But I only knew him a few weeks ago.
_________________

[ericcoliu]

Thanks for sharing your insight about old age and your story.

[[ericcoliu]]

Thanks for sharing your insight about old age and your story.

[Lake]

I hope this is true, the older you get, the wiser you are.

A sage once said one cannot understand I Ching until one reaches 50.

And a recent study says the middle age nowadays is 52.

[[Lake]]

I hope this is true, the older you get, the wiser you are.

A sage once said one cannot understand I Ching until one reaches 50.

And a recent study says the middle age nowadays is 52.

[ericcoliu]

[[ericcoliu]]

[Champagne]

[[Champagne]]

[非马]

You must be kidding, Eric. Old? At the age of 40?
I think it's all in one's perspective. I remember when I was little, I used to look upon my father as an old man. In fact, he was only 30 or 40 at that time. Now I view a person of 40 as a YOUNGMAN. Ha!

[[FFFFFF]]

You must be kidding, Eric. Old? At the age of 40?
I think it's all in one's perspective. I remember when I was little, I used to look upon my father as an old man. In fact, he was only 30 or 40 at that time. Now I view a person of 40 as a YOUNGMAN. Ha!

[ericcoliu]

No kidding! For me, aging is a state of mind.

Maybe I suffer from what Kierkegaard calls a “fatal illness”: a man is always a prey to his truths; once he has admitted them, he cannot free himself from them.

Anyway, thank you for reading and commenting on my writing and sharing with me your life experience.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

No kidding! For me, aging is a state of mind.

Maybe I suffer from what Kierkegaard calls a “fatal illness”: a man is always a prey to his truths; once he has admitted them, he cannot free himself from them.

Anyway, thank you for reading and commenting on my writing and sharing with me your life experience.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[ericcoliu]

What Time Is

Time is
Too slow for those who are coming to age of puberty
Too Swift for those who are approaching the closing years of their lives
Too Long for those who are grieving for their losses
Too Short for those who are brimming with joy
But for those who are falling in love
Time is not
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

What Time Is

Time is
Too slow for those who are coming to age of puberty
Too Swift for those who are approaching the closing years of their lives
Too Long for those who are grieving for their losses
Too Short for those who are brimming with joy
But for those who are falling in love
Time is not
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[ericcoliu]

I've expanded my piece.

Time takes it all, time bears it away, and in the end, there is only darkness.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

I've expanded my piece.

Time takes it all, time bears it away, and in the end, there is only darkness.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[robarts]

[[robarts]]

[Lake]

A well written article, I would say.

Aging, well, I would like to live as what Confucius said "发奋忘食，乐以忘忧，不知老之将至“。

[[Lake]]

A well written article, I would say.

Aging, well, I would like to live as what Confucius said "发奋忘食，乐以忘忧，不知老之将至“。