I find myself getting frustrated at the actions of two old men. Men with a lifetime of experience, and a world under their belt, but a resistance to change like oil avoiding water. But why does something like the actions of two men affect me so? Why is their staunch intent to preserve a world that does not exist impact me? Why does their fear of facing the new world push me to so much irritation?

Two old men, who have the world under their belt, should understand as the world changes and you change along with it. Both of whom have habits forged over years, ones that have become a functional foundation of their lives, yet no longer serve the needs of the present. Do they not want more, or is it that more would mean difficulty? They are like rocks in the oncoming current, being eroded away to nothing.

These damn old men, ones filled with the fear and hesitation of a life unaltered. Don’t you see that life could be different if you would just change? Stones wake up and feed your grasses, it is time to find flexibility under the sun.

These men learned that rigidity is what life needed. To persevere in the wake of yesterday’s difficulty, they found firmness the solution. Be the unchanging thing in the world of change, be the place that you can find in the storm. But what of the storm that brews below their surface? Push down the storm, and perhaps it will turn into sand and then to stone. So years of storms, years of rigidity, and years of the world changing around them, what are they left with when the world does not deign to need them the same way?

We as men are told we need to be stoic, to be that unchanging force and allow the world to wash upon us, knowing that we lose a little each day the waves crash upon our shore. Perhaps then, once we can collect the sand and make castles in our place. But I’ve read enough to know of that false stoic principle of unfeeling and letting yourself be lost in the world only spells the greatest of tragedies. It is through knowing the mind and accepting reality that we find stoicism, not to be unchanging, not to be unemotional, but to be discerning of the forces of the world. Not to become whipped by the winds, but appreciate the chill breeze that comes in the first sign of winter.

It frustrates me, as it feels to me they lost faith in their own resilience. Like giving up on a world that now passes them by, never realizing that it always took work to be apart of it. Those relationships to themselves and others spring forth from growth and change. That trying to capture what was is an errant endeavor, like capturing the wind. That new journeys abound on the other side of discomfort. That possibilities unknown, both good and bad, could lie at the other side of change.

Why these old men, why don’t they see that the possibilities of tomorrow are always much greater than the ones of yesterday? That with change and healing, they too may find that the journey through the storms, currents, and waves may bear fruit, just not by taking the path they have taken but finding delight in the prospect of being naive again. Perhaps being a beginner is scarier than one would hope it to be.
That possibilities lie on the other side of tomorrow, but that means good and bad, and if I don’t move, I don’t lose.

Perhaps it is difficult to see because if I have to start over, then what was the pain I had to endure before?

Was it all for not…

These old men frustrate me so, these old men.. to whom in the reflection I see me and the future that could be if I too remain unchanged. To these old men, I plead with thee, change, so I may learn to change too.

Perhaps I, too, need to embrace being a beginner again.