Since I turned 40, one event after another has reminded me that I am approaching eternity as a train approaches a train station … every tick of my watch is a clattering step along the tracks, each moment ever closer to the end of this noisy, breezy, winding, enigmatic life on earth. I press my face to the window … but I cannot see to the front … I must be content to look through the window and watch the scenes of my life blinking past. Metaphorically, perhaps, I am able to feel the coldness of the grave somewhere out there in the night. Here in the reflection of this glass I can see the artwork of death, the dissipation of my youth, (shrewd, deceptive, temperamental youth!) and yet somehow I am not afraid.  The Spirit is being poured into my inner being.  Life is getting to be so rich, so deep. I am crossing the bridge … molting … leaving my skin behind, waking up in the glorious aesthetics of the soul.

Kierkegaard wrote of life and imminent death, comparing men and women of faith to lilies of the field: “[The lily’s] coming into being becomes its destruction, indeed it seems as if it came into existence and became beautiful only to be destroyed—yet the obedient lily obediently submits to this, Continue reading ‘On Growing Young’ »