If nothing else, five years of writing weekly columns has been an internship for me in the art of exploration.

Rather than fighting the demons of destructive pleasures, Lewis recommends that we rediscover the deep joys of common ones. Daily walks became more than mere exercise after I read Lewis.

I say writing a column is a great way to make new friends.

September 1999
This month I celebrate my fifth-year anniversary of Midlife Moments. In honor of the occasion, I wanted to have a big party--maybe dress in '50's and '60's garb--and invite you all to come. But I couldn't figure out a way to pay for it ("You're invited to my party, and, by the way, could you bring $10 to pay for the band?"). So I decided to write a commemorative column instead.

I had lunch this week with a fellow columnist and new friend, David Horsley. In our conversation, David said he believes that writing is discovery. When we write, we discover, both the world around us and the one within. I agree. If nothing else, five years of writing weekly columns has been an internship for me in the art of exploration.

My first discovery was not a pleasant one and has to do with column writing itself. It is not the glamorous experience I imagined. I thought inspiration would flow easily from my brain like a spring in a mountain meadow. It turns out my spring is usually dry, the meadow is a desert, and I sometimes wonder if I'll find water at all before I die (read "before my deadline").

So why would someone subject himself to this torture? (One of my college-age children likens it to writing a term paper every week.) My answer will probably make sense only to treasure hunters and compulsive gamblers, but I do it because, on occasion, one does find what one seeks--and the thrill of discovery is worth the chase.

For instance, I remember when I discovered the insightful "Fly Fishing Through the Midlife Crisis" by New York Times Editorial Page Editor, Howell Raines. Raines points out that the joy of life is in playing the game well, not in keeping score of one's accomplishments. I found myself a little less concerned with physical rewards (money, titles) after reading Raines.

Similarly, I found a piece by C. S. Lewis where he suggests that our desires are too weak, not too strong. Rather than fighting the demons of destructive pleasures, Lewis recommends that we rediscover the deep joys of common ones. Daily walks became more than mere exercise after I read Lewis.

And, I've had my own epiphanies, rare moments when truths appear like those pictures hidden within pictures (you know, the outline of a man's face in the clouds above a rural landscape), where, when you see them, you can't believe you missed them before. A column I wrote about sending our oldest child to college was like that. As I composed it, I realized that my loss was also a gain. For in losing "Daddy's little girl," I had gained a new adult friend. The insight didn't lessen the sorrow, but it did keep me from overlooking a new and precious gift.

Communication theorist Kenneth Burke says that all human beings experience a sense of isolation, a feeling of separateness from each other. Thus, Burke says, we communicate to alleviate that separateness.

This may explain my greatest discovery in writing my column. For as I've tried to write candidly each week about the struggles and joys of my own midlife journey, I've heard from a host of fellow pilgrims sharing the road with me. Burke would say these people remind me I am not alone. I say writing a column is a great way to make new friends.