Zen and the Art of the Midlife Crisis

Around the world, many cultures recognize the age of 50 as an opening door to a deeper spiritual exploration. In America, however, it is often described as a time of hormones rampant or the opportunity to trade in for a younger sportscar.

Obviously triggered by the shift from unlimited futures to impending finale, like leaves changing colors, it is a time to examine the dreams still in reach and those to let fall away. In this culture, it is too often measured by bank accounts, toys accumulated and the degrees of our children.

From such a perspective, it is easy for me to feel like a failure. I have struggled in my work, survived one divorce, been distant at times from my children, siblings and parents. I have hurt friends in the heart and many associates in the pocketbook. I have bounced checks and stolen a christmas tree. My life has not turned out the way I imagined, long ago safely nestled in the home of my successful and loving parents.

Now I've reached a point of acceptance that some things can be changed and others are just a part of who I am and always will be. I've had very little luck at easily telling the difference, so it might seem my head is bruised and battered from so many hits against the brick wall in front of me.

This is a blog about making a difference, finding a way around the wall, making a change. I have no formula, no grand vision. Nothing in particular I need to stand on my soap box and shout to the world. Already I've been soiled, hanging out my laundry here. Oh well, I asked for it. Perhaps, seeing my story, some may take heart, in claiming I'm part fool, as well as gold, some one else may take comfort in their own foolishness. At the very least, these blank pages are so much softer, but may actually--as they get filled--knock more sense into this thick head than any brick wall.

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