Confusion delusion

If you’re like me, you must always be on guard for the nonsense floating around in our middle-aged man mind’s eye.  In the modern and fancy world in which we live, opportunities abound in the tales others tell us, the “news” we read and the testimonials teasing us about the glory and grandeur awaiting us if we only knew the secrets to success.  These are secrets that only others, but not us, know.

We’re fooled into believing there’s a pot of gold awaiting us at the end of a rainbow; we’re attracted to it, an attraction for perfection.  Inside this pot of gold are nuggets of great and wonderful faith, family, fitness, fortune and health.

We may want to be stellar in our faith, whatever our faith happens to be.  What middle-age man doesn’t want to go to Heaven?  Even atheists and pagans have faith; they believe in something, even if it’s nothing.  Entering their nothing afterlife just happens to be their heaven.

We may want to have a better family life, a kingdom bearing our surname where we are almighty patriarchs to whom familial chants in joyous chorus are sang, “Oh ye, who knowest all!”  Ozzy and Harriet and The Waltons planted those seeds of desire long ago.

What about fitness?   What middle-age man doesn’t want to be physically fit, not just a little, but a lot?  We all want to look good at the beach, capable of taking off our shirts on demand and drawing boundless oohs and awes from those who pass by.  There’s a Brutus Beefcake in our id.

No discussion is complete without mention of middle-age man fortune desires.  We have no shortage of frequent reminders in the internet articles we read, billboard ads we see and even discussions we have with some of our phony baloney peers who are perpetually chasing their imaginary end-of-the-rainbow pot of gold. They never have enough proving the truth that we can never have enough of what we don’t need.

Finally, what middle-aged man doesn’t want great health?  Yes, great health, not OK or good health but great health.  Heck, maybe excellent health or tremendously excellent health best describes our attraction, described in the most superlative way possible.

This is a big agenda we create for ourselves, a loaded to do list, like an 18-units full load college semester of upper division courses we’re tackling where we’ll settle for nothing less than “Straight A’s.”

Can we do it?  Is it possible?  What happens if we fail?  Why do some subject themselves to such a full plate of overwhelming pursuits?  Why do I?

When catching ourselves in such a quandary that we alone have created, let’s break away from the shackles keeping us in bondage to our middle-aged man confusion delusion.

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum