Hi,
Fellow adventurers, intrepid travelers and good Roman Catholics.
If you happened to be near the main road from France to San Sebastian in March of 1969 you may have seen an individual strolling into town. Bathed in hope and that bright Spanish sunshine, he is young, confident, happy, carefree and in perfect physical condition with nary a penny to his name. He is fresh from the Summer of Love: the Funny Farm, a commune in Erbsville, Ontario and good times in Yorkville, Toronto. His world is a banquet awaiting his pleasure. There is a light in his eye anticipating a year in Spain with wine, women and song on his mind, peace and love in his heart, a flower in his hair, and a spring in his step. The unknown is rich with promise of earthly delights and a glimpse of the Eternal in those incredible star studded Castilian skies and in the as yet unmet, beloveds’ eyes.
If you happen to be at the SJPP train station in March of the year of our Lord, 2012, you may observe, a weary, hollow eyed, anxiety ridden and more than likely, severely hung over individual getting off the train in the dark of the night. He is old, wavering and in poor physical condition, albeit with modest means. His world, duty done: three happy and successful children raised, 30 year plus sentence with Salt Mines Inc duly served and a shaky marriage survived. His eyes are dimmed, anticipating a walk into the unknown with unease, rejection and trepidation on his mind, dread and conflict in his heart, grey hair on his head and a halt in his tread. The unknown path is strewn with danger, dark threatening skies overhead and inexorable loneliness within.
Never could resist a bit of poetic licence.
But seriously, I think I was much older, far wiser and certainly a lot happier when I was a long haired hippy forty years ago than I am now. It’s odd but, through the long hard years of my conventional business career, that mindset dimmed, but was never completely extinguished.
Probably lying dormant to be brought back to life by the rains on the plains of Spain.
Hope to see you then,
Derek
Fellow adventurers, intrepid travelers and good Roman Catholics.
If you happened to be near the main road from France to San Sebastian in March of 1969 you may have seen an individual strolling into town. Bathed in hope and that bright Spanish sunshine, he is young, confident, happy, carefree and in perfect physical condition with nary a penny to his name. He is fresh from the Summer of Love: the Funny Farm, a commune in Erbsville, Ontario and good times in Yorkville, Toronto. His world is a banquet awaiting his pleasure. There is a light in his eye anticipating a year in Spain with wine, women and song on his mind, peace and love in his heart, a flower in his hair, and a spring in his step. The unknown is rich with promise of earthly delights and a glimpse of the Eternal in those incredible star studded Castilian skies and in the as yet unmet, beloveds’ eyes.
If you happen to be at the SJPP train station in March of the year of our Lord, 2012, you may observe, a weary, hollow eyed, anxiety ridden and more than likely, severely hung over individual getting off the train in the dark of the night. He is old, wavering and in poor physical condition, albeit with modest means. His world, duty done: three happy and successful children raised, 30 year plus sentence with Salt Mines Inc duly served and a shaky marriage survived. His eyes are dimmed, anticipating a walk into the unknown with unease, rejection and trepidation on his mind, dread and conflict in his heart, grey hair on his head and a halt in his tread. The unknown path is strewn with danger, dark threatening skies overhead and inexorable loneliness within.
Never could resist a bit of poetic licence.
But seriously, I think I was much older, far wiser and certainly a lot happier when I was a long haired hippy forty years ago than I am now. It’s odd but, through the long hard years of my conventional business career, that mindset dimmed, but was never completely extinguished.
Probably lying dormant to be brought back to life by the rains on the plains of Spain.
Hope to see you then,
Derek