Energy

As I have commented before, my "animal drives" have always been somewhat less than those of le homme moyen sensuel. Still, I was never lacking in physical energy, and it is interesting to me to notice how, at a mere age 50, that energy is starting to diminish. I used to disdain napping; now, frequently, a nap seems just the thing. I used to "go out" at every opportunity; now I'd just as soon stay in. (J.B. Priestley wrote wisely in his maturity of the delight of "not going," which youth, of course, cannot bear the thought of.)

Happily, this slight tapering of physical vigor does seem to be balanced by a surge in intellectual energy. But I won't pretend that there is no feeling of loss involved. From the perspective of 50, the notion that 25 doesn't come again is unremarkable, a big whoop. But the notion that 45 doesn't come again -- that seems a bit tragic.