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

Nor from which I could escape

Marching along as a middle-aged man in the sexagenarian decade of my life, every day is different and isn’t that wonderful?  Some days are better than others but realistically, every day is not a bowl of cherries. 

Sure, I can fake it that every day is great while flaunting a big cheesy smile but at the end of the day, I’m stuck with myself and if my deck of cards deals me a spade for the day, rather than a heart, that’s the way it is and I must accept my hand while playing my poker game of life.

That’s not to say, however, that despite a “bad day”, whatever that means to you and me, that there still isn’t something good to be had from it.  It’s just that I must search a little harder to find its diamond in the rough because it’s buried deep in a pile of misery and wretchedness. 

What gets me through days like this are to count my blessings because they still exist; to be grateful for all that I have, humble and acknowledge that it could all be taken away from me in a heartbeat.  The biblical story of Job is a good read when I’m having a day that feels like Job living in Uz when his life suddenly turned upside down.

Best to double down my efforts to avoid, or at least minimize, the time spent in a state of being described by St. Augustine in his classic The Confessions of St. Augustine where he shares:

“I was weighed down by a grievous load of wretchedness . . . I still remained to myself an unhappy place where I could neither be, nor from which I could escape.”

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

Better than standing still

In search for truth, justice and the American way, Pierini Fitness always takes great delight in listening to elders for new pearls of wisdom in his gracefully aging journey.

The late and great Tommy Kono shared much wisdom with me in the many private conversations we had during the last years of his life.  One of my favorites was when he contrasted the goals he was chasing at various points in his life.  His verbal script was predictably the same.  He’d say how when he was younger, he always tried to improve but once older, his goal was to maintain and then, finally, as an elderly person, his goal was to survive.

So true and something I think about all the time, although I’m not yet willing to be an official card-carrying member of the survive club.  Despite still spending time in the improve club, honestly, I spend most of my time in the maintain club.  But my day will come, God willing, where I’ll spend most of my time in survival mode and I’ll think of Tommy Kono when in this time zone. 

A recent conversation with an 81-year young client gave me a new pearl of wisdom with something he said.  I asked him how he was doing, and his reply made me chuckle. 

He said that he was getting gradually better and worse about equally and it didn’t seem to make much of a difference.  What a clever and wordy reply that was more fun to hear than saying he was doing the same.  His reply likely mirrors mine if asked the same question and I’m rigorously honest, something I struggle with and maybe so do you.  It acknowledges that despite my best efforts, the net sum zero game truth is a powerful force in my middle-aged man life. 

Sure, I can make some gains here and there, but chances are there are also losses of some type simultaneously taking place in my life.

Is it better to face this obvious truth or continue being in denial?  Or, maybe continue marching forward achieving some gains knowing that they’ll be greater than the losses along the way.  After all, two steps forward and one step back is better than standing still.

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

You'd be a 64-year old man?

It’s inevitable going a day without looking at myself in the mirror.  I suppose it’s possible if I didn’t own a mirror and didn’t go anywhere near a mirror but it’s probably fair to say that all of us have at least one daily encounter.

And whether we consciously do it or not, most of us take a good hard look at what the mirror reveals.  For gracefully aging middle-aged men, it’s a reflection of, hopefully, a gracefully aging middle-aged man.  Despite, however, how gracefully aging it’s unfolding for us, the truth of the matter is if we look close enough and are honest, we see an old man in training.

Twenty-something plus years ago, I had a conversation with a client who was a newly crowned octogenarian.  I was probably in my late 40’s at the time.  He was a person full of life, still working, always exhibiting a joyful being and capable of making you laugh along with him.  

One day I asked him if when he was a young man, he had ever imagined being an 80-year old man.  He replied never in his wildest dreams.  Then, he shared a memory when he was a younger man, probably in his mid-30’s, working at a Naval shipyard, about having a thought while at work, that if he could only make it to his 50’s how he’d be grateful.

I recently asked my Mom the same question while at lunch to celebrate her 88^th birthday.  Her answer was the same; she never ever thought that one day she'd be an 88-year old woman.

My guess is most of us don’t have these thoughts.  I’m not sure I have, even though that day, Gold willing, isn’t far away. 

Those who’ve read my reflections know one of my favorite expressions is that every man who looks in a mirror sees a 16-year-old kid.  It’s nothing more than a middle-aged man expression in jest, meant to have fun, a play on words, a figure of speech, an expression of hope for what I know isn’t possible. Yet, undoubtedly, it annoys some and this includes none other than Ms. Pierini Fitness.  

One day, about ten years ago, after I had again bellowed out my famous expression for the umpteenth time, she pleaded with me to get honest by reminding me that I was closer to my father’s age than being a 16-year old kid.  I did a little finger math and discovered she was correct.  While 30 years away from my father’s age, I was a whopping 38 years removed from this mythical 16-year-old kid character to whom I constantly refer.

To have the same reflective benefit that I’ve given others asking this rhetorical question, when next looking in the mirror, I’ll ask “Mr. Pierini Fitness, when you were a 16-year-old kid, did you ever imagine one day you’d be a 64-year old man?”

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum