Jumping to Conclusion?

“You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men.” (Matthew 5:13)


Today’s sermon is on salt. Not really. I’m really thinking about seasoning. When I was younger, going to a bookstore was like going to Valhalla. And there was MusicLand. I could and did spend hours looking over vinyl discs, reading the liners, wondering which to buy with my limited funds. Later it was hardware stores and outdoorsy stores. If the wife had certain shopping on her mind, I’d contentedly wait for her in one of those places.


Law school absorbed me to no end, until it ended, and the practice of law quickly became a grind. Ideas and fads have come and gone. They interested me, added some spice to my life, then lost their punch. Now, not so much, and I’m not sure why. The same with fishing. Familiarity for me breeds not contempt, but disinterest.


Easy availability can lead to loss of luster. Books are everywhere, not to mention the digital version. The same for music. I heard recently on NPR that most adults lose interest in new music genres after the age of 35; that’s certainly true for me, and why for me classical music, jazz, and classic rock appeal to (as much as anything does), the new stuff grates. And speaking of NPR and news radio, listening to what was once a sparkling commentary on the world has become a chore, a grind of misery and a demonstration of the flaws of civilization and modern man.


Those salts have lost their flavor. Maybe all is vanity, as The Preacher said.


Well, almost. My family can still stir me, usually in a good way, sometimes not so good, but at least they matter. My lovebird and the rabbit who comes to my door bring me pleasure, the sunrise and the breezes, the seasons, so I do find packets of flavor. I’m thinking of buying a new bike and getting back on the road, so I’m at bike shops and REI a lot, looking at them, and accessories. Since my old bike was stolen along with its accoutrements, I have excuses to replace everything. Because I’m working out, I look at energy gels and gym clothes and the like. But not with the same senses of awe and wonder.


As I think about the above, two things stand out. The first is that these might be classic signs of depression, and I plead guilty to bouts of that, but I think it’s deeper (and better) than that; it’s a drive to find meaning beneath the veneer of daily life. The second is that this observation, or complaint if you will, is one reserved for those fortunate enough to affordably live in the developed world. I’m well aware that for many people their only concern is food and shelter. I feel for them, but I’m not one of them, and for me to give up all my material possessions and become one of them would not help them much, if at all. And anyway I have no desire or intent to do that.


Be that as it may, next Sunday I’m planning something that will definitely stir me. I, with my fear of heights, am going skydiving. A tandem dive, paired with a professional. But it will definitely tear me out of my comfort zone.


I’ll keep you posted on that, maybe share a photo or video. Or, if things go wrong, maybe become a blot on the landscape. If that happens, my absence will be my final words.