Passions Never Grow Old

Both my father and my father-in-law managed to keep their passions alive well into their 70s: what is chess for my father is golf for my father-in-law. It is still a pleasure to see my father's mind at work when he is playing chess as well as to see the finesse of my father-in-law on the golf course.

Chess always has been an integral part of my father's life. Even before I was born, I was told that my father was helping in a move, and he did so by holding on to a cupboard with one hand and his chessboard in the other. When I was a boy he managed to beat me in chess with his eyes blind-folded, which made a big impression on me.

For my father-in-law playing golf has been about the connections with other people when he was playing, his business and social contacts and his many friends. He still remembers fondly the time when he got his handicap down into single digits. He played during the monsoon season in India, barefoot as his shoes were drenched in rain, and he played on the deserted course for days to achieve his goal. It is still a pleasure to see his puts magically rolling into the hole even though his eye sight is no longer the one it used to.

It seems pretty clear to me that passions never grow old as long as you manage to keep the fire burning inside. Age is no handicap for something you have practised all your life. More that that, without that fire you are likely to look old before your time. Seeing the two at play makes me quite upbeat about my sacred journey, the pursuit and sharing of the ancient secret of self-knowledge. I would think you can do that for quite a while.