about the line between duty and dreams, the things we wish we could do and those that life has somehow attached to us.
Part of what makes a person mature is the realization that the world is as it is and the lofty aspirations of youth somehow always seem to get grounded by the realities of life. Yet the aspirations, the dreams, never seem to leave. For the most part the business of life drowns out their whisper but every so often when stillness comes they can be heard again reminding us of the passage of time, of things left undone, and dreams unfulfilled.
Such is a broken world, a world where yearning never ceases even in the waves of the mundane and people with more time behind then ahead remember what they were when everything was new. It will be a half a century for me this year, God willing, and still the fire has not died away…
The Beautiful Path 
40 wasn’t a big deal for me. 50 was sobering. Life, at best, is past half over. What have I done, what have I left undone, what have I denied, what have I buried and what can I salvage… and does any of it really matter in the end? Come on in, the “post 50 water is fine!”
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