Sailing to Byzantium…

An aged man is but a paltry thing,

a tattered coat upon a stick, unless

soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing

for every tatter in its mortal dress,

nor is there singing school but studying

monuments of its own magnificence,

and therefore I have sailed the seas and come

to the holy city of Byzantium.

*****

I can hardly believe it, but I bought my tickets — I am heading to Turkey in the fall! It will be a stretch for me. Even just making the decision and planning this out and purchasing the tickets were absurdly difficult, and I am sure I’ve been driving my friends crazy. But there’s been enough talk; it’s time to start the doing.

I can’t imagine how it will feel to step off that plane in Istanbul and figure things out on my own without Monte.

So maybe I’m crazy, but I’m sailing to Byzantium.

Followed by a few October days in England with some people that I love…and that will be the easy part, the touchstone.

As I have been saying lately, I feel that I am in the narrow border country between prime of life and old age.  It’s a border country in the same way that adolescence is, thus fraught with emotion, turmoil, questions, and changes. It’s like adolescence but without the energy, I suppose, or the ability to sleep like a baby. But it is a border country that should be traveled well with soul sung loudly.

As Helen Keller said, “Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing. To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable.” Well, we shall see.

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