Sunday, February 10, 2002

Plucking out gray hairs
While underneath in the night
Crickets are singing

Basho (1644-1694)

Actually, I don't pluck out the gray hairs. I've earned them, dammit, and they stay where they are. The only thing I don't really like about them is they lack the fullness and manageability that my hair used to have. Oh well.

Sure, last summer, as I was approaching 40, I was a little concerned about these signs of age. But once I made it past that milestone I realized how meaningless it was. I don't think that I currently have any aging issues.

I can listen to the crickets, and let them lull me to sleep, without them symbolizing the passage of time. I've got nothing against the crickets; I'm singing too.

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