It was time for something really warm I thought as I went about choosing a new winter casquette (cap) at the Galéries Lafayette department store in downtown Paris. I tried on one after another of the French bonnets, which to me look like Navy watch caps, and other stocking caps.  I just wasn’t going to buy one of those flat caps that the Parisian old guys wear. I’m not old like them, I told myself. I don’t look like them. I just don’t want to be like them.  But none of the bonnets fit right, looked good, or felt good.

So, out of the frustration of not finding a good cap in the style I had been accustomed to – and after checking out another department and being told the stocking caps there were too flamboyant for me and, in addition “sont pour les jeune hommes (are for young men) – believe it or not, I returned to another shelf of casquettes in the original department, the type of caps I’d noticed on the majority of older gents throughout Paris. I tried on a flat cap that I’ve now come to know as a casquette vendeur de journaux made of velours côtelé, a black corduroy “newsboy’s cap.”

Voila! The cap fit me perfectly. It fit right. It looked good (my wife, Karen, told me so). And, it really felt good. I felt downright at home in that cap. I had found my cap!

As I have moved around the streets of Paris wearing my new black newsboy’s cap, I’ve been pondering this question: Might my purchase of a new cap have been a signaling, an acceptance, of my actual age and stage? Have I become, almost overnight, a genuine, certified “old guy?”  Although I’ve been moving into and working on this life transition for some time now, the shift – signified by my comfort in this cap – has been smooth and easy.

I’ve been trying on this new designation as I’ve been trying on my new cap.

Interestingly, perhaps amazingly, I like it – that is, the designation as well as the cap.

I’m happy with my new cap. I’m happy being an old guy.

The Roman philosopher, Cicero, is reported to have said: “I am…pleased with the old man that has something of the youth.” Well said, Cicero! That’s helpful for me.

I am an old man who has something of the youth: my newsboy’s cap and a young man’s heart!

I have my newsboy’s cap. I have my old guy’s reclassification.

I am now prepared to move on with my life.

Voila!                                                                           David Hagstrom November 24, 2013 Paris, France

 En Silencio Florece el Alma

The Soul Flourishes In Silence

Once upon a time, not so long ago, I found myself at a precious mountain inn near the southern coast of Spain. It was at the time of American Thanksgiving and I was far from home (or so I thought).

It was a majestic place, perched high above a little village. By day my eyes were taken out to sea. At night the village lights twinkled me to sleep. There was no doubt; it was the prettiest place I’d ever seen. For me, it was a paradise.

Quite taken by the views by day and night, I told the innkeeper that I’d found paradise. “Indeed you have,” she proclaimed. “It’s a paradise for your soul. Once you settle in and settle down, the silence will surround you – and you’ll be home.” Watching me take all of this to heart, Claire leaned close and whispered: “En silencio florece el alma (the soul flourishes in silence). It’s the gift I give to you this day. May your soul sing you lullabies tonight. May the silence bring you home.”

At that she placed a small guest book in my hand. “If you will, before you leave, share some words – perhaps like these.” Her eyes directed me to this verse: “It’s in these hills, and beneath this sky, that I find my voice, and I can sing.” (John, from Yorkshire, October 2006). Placing the little book securely in both of my hands, this gentle hostess slowly walked away.

Graced with these invitations, I passed a silent day. As the hours moved on by, I remembered moments when my soul seems full and free:  at first light (my writing times in the early dawn) and at “that magic time” (the final good light in each and every day), along with times of hearing clear words of encouragement and those times when laughter rocks my heart. My soul eases me toward home at times like these. I cherish those moments.

And so, I passed my day – en silencio. I remembered friends and family far away. I sent gratitudes quietly on their way. I wrapped myself in the hills; I somehow climbed into the sky. As the time passed, I leaned further and further towards my heart. At day’s end, I found myself singing these words.  And now, I send them to you:

I’ll listen with my heart to you, my friend.

I’ll listen with my heart.

I’ll bring my peaceful soul to you, my friend.

I’ll bring my peaceful soul.

It’s the gift that’s mine to give.

It’s the song that’s mine to sing.

May I pass these words along to you?

May I give my words to you?

***

How might you bring silence into your life?

That Magic Time / Remembering  / Frigiliana, Spain (2007) / Paris, France  / November 28, 2013