Sixty-two
04/06/15 04:37
I’m quite confident that regular readers of this blog don’t read in order to learn trivia, but occasionally trivia does become a topic in the blog because I write from my mind and I often know insignificant things as well as significant things. I tend to write what I know and allow time and the readers to sort out what it important. Actually, I’m pretty amazed that I have any regular readers because my format - essays - is not one of the more popular forms for the Internet. Few people actually stay with an Internet posting for a thousand words, and a thousand words is my norm. However, for the few of you that do, Thank you! It is nice to hear (and I do from time to time) that I have written something that carries some meaning for you.
If you’re looking for deep meaning, today might not be the best day.
So here is the trivia. Sigmund Freud, one of the most significant psychologists of the 20th century, who shaped our understanding of the human mind more than any other scientist of his generation, had his own irrational fears. There are two of which I am aware. He had a fear of ferns. There is actually a psychological name for this particular phobia; pteridophobia. AllWords.com defines pteridophobia as “An irrational or obsessive fear of ferns.” So there you have it. Freud himself had a diagnosable psychiatric disorder.
The fear of ferns, however, didn’t seem to have much an impact on his daily life. He had another fear, however, that did affect his daily decisions. According to theatricaloutfit.org, Sigmund Freud was deathly afraid of the number 62! This phobia was so intense that he would not book a room in any hotel with more than 62 rooms in case he was allotted that particular room. One presumes that he never stayed in Hotel 62 in Barcelona.
Freud, also known as the father of psychoanalysis, lived to the age of 83, so he must have had to face his own 62nd year. I couldn’t find any information about how reaching the age of 62 affected him. Perhaps the year passed uneventfully.
I’ve been thinking of 62 because that is the age that I will become in a couple of weeks. From one perspective, every year is a bonus and a treat for me. My father didn’t live to the age of 60, so each year that I live beyond his lifespan seems to me to be a gift. And I am blessed with good health, sufficient energy, meaningful work, a wonderful family and so many other reasons to take care of myself and continue to live with vigor and enthusiasm.
In a sort of strange sense, however, I look on this particular age as a bit of a mystery. Since I’ve never been 62, it will be a whole new experience for me. Not many years ago, 62 was an age that was considered to be a good age for early retirement for those who had planned carefully and saved well enough to retire at that age. it seems that that kind of thinking isn’t as common these days. Clearly there is no “right” age for retirement. People make career shifts and change directions in their employment at all kinds of ages. And there are plenty of examples of people whose most productive years were after they had reached the age that I now am entering.
At any rate, I don’t have any special plans for retirement. I’m fairly certain that I’ve got a few more good years left in me and I see nothing special about the age of 62 that would entice me to stop working at the job that has been a wonderful career for me so far. It seems that there are plenty of things that I still could accomplish by continuing my work. Fortunately I have a vocation where there is little pressure to retire at any specific age.
One of the fun things of every age, is the opportunity to work one’s way deeper into the Psalms. So, for the year to come, my Psalm will be number 62. After a year of contemplating how God protects the faithful and imagining what it might mean to live under God’s shelter, I’ll be moving on to a Psalm that reminds me to trust in God alone. It is a natural follow-up to its mate.
I always struggle a little bit with Psalms in the 1st person, because I naturally assume that I couldn’t be the subject of the Psalm. After all, both Psalm 61 and 62 are attributed to King David - a person who was vastly different than I am. I don’t think of myself as a king and while I can pray the psalms of David, there is always a little thought in the back of my mind that I’m not really in the same circumstances as the author of the Psalm.
62, however, does have a very powerful verse at its mid-point: “For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him.” Maybe 62 is a good year for my soul to wait in silence for God. It seems that patience is a virtue that takes an incredible amount of nurture and that I often fall short of being silent in my waiting. I’m probably more of a complainer as I wait most of the time.
Perhaps 62 is a good age for me to sit back and explore the depths of silently waiting. I am convinced that God has much more yet to reveal to me. I’m sure there is plenty worth waiting for.
The Psalm concludes with the assertion that God repays all according to their work. Like the glorious ending of Psalm 90, which asks God to establish the work of our hands,, this now anticipates that our work will not be in vain.
Perhaps part of what I’m waiting for is the clarity of Psalm 90. That will take a good many years of patiently waiting. I’m not that old yet.
If you’re looking for deep meaning, today might not be the best day.
So here is the trivia. Sigmund Freud, one of the most significant psychologists of the 20th century, who shaped our understanding of the human mind more than any other scientist of his generation, had his own irrational fears. There are two of which I am aware. He had a fear of ferns. There is actually a psychological name for this particular phobia; pteridophobia. AllWords.com defines pteridophobia as “An irrational or obsessive fear of ferns.” So there you have it. Freud himself had a diagnosable psychiatric disorder.
The fear of ferns, however, didn’t seem to have much an impact on his daily life. He had another fear, however, that did affect his daily decisions. According to theatricaloutfit.org, Sigmund Freud was deathly afraid of the number 62! This phobia was so intense that he would not book a room in any hotel with more than 62 rooms in case he was allotted that particular room. One presumes that he never stayed in Hotel 62 in Barcelona.
Freud, also known as the father of psychoanalysis, lived to the age of 83, so he must have had to face his own 62nd year. I couldn’t find any information about how reaching the age of 62 affected him. Perhaps the year passed uneventfully.
I’ve been thinking of 62 because that is the age that I will become in a couple of weeks. From one perspective, every year is a bonus and a treat for me. My father didn’t live to the age of 60, so each year that I live beyond his lifespan seems to me to be a gift. And I am blessed with good health, sufficient energy, meaningful work, a wonderful family and so many other reasons to take care of myself and continue to live with vigor and enthusiasm.
In a sort of strange sense, however, I look on this particular age as a bit of a mystery. Since I’ve never been 62, it will be a whole new experience for me. Not many years ago, 62 was an age that was considered to be a good age for early retirement for those who had planned carefully and saved well enough to retire at that age. it seems that that kind of thinking isn’t as common these days. Clearly there is no “right” age for retirement. People make career shifts and change directions in their employment at all kinds of ages. And there are plenty of examples of people whose most productive years were after they had reached the age that I now am entering.
At any rate, I don’t have any special plans for retirement. I’m fairly certain that I’ve got a few more good years left in me and I see nothing special about the age of 62 that would entice me to stop working at the job that has been a wonderful career for me so far. It seems that there are plenty of things that I still could accomplish by continuing my work. Fortunately I have a vocation where there is little pressure to retire at any specific age.
One of the fun things of every age, is the opportunity to work one’s way deeper into the Psalms. So, for the year to come, my Psalm will be number 62. After a year of contemplating how God protects the faithful and imagining what it might mean to live under God’s shelter, I’ll be moving on to a Psalm that reminds me to trust in God alone. It is a natural follow-up to its mate.
I always struggle a little bit with Psalms in the 1st person, because I naturally assume that I couldn’t be the subject of the Psalm. After all, both Psalm 61 and 62 are attributed to King David - a person who was vastly different than I am. I don’t think of myself as a king and while I can pray the psalms of David, there is always a little thought in the back of my mind that I’m not really in the same circumstances as the author of the Psalm.
62, however, does have a very powerful verse at its mid-point: “For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him.” Maybe 62 is a good year for my soul to wait in silence for God. It seems that patience is a virtue that takes an incredible amount of nurture and that I often fall short of being silent in my waiting. I’m probably more of a complainer as I wait most of the time.
Perhaps 62 is a good age for me to sit back and explore the depths of silently waiting. I am convinced that God has much more yet to reveal to me. I’m sure there is plenty worth waiting for.
The Psalm concludes with the assertion that God repays all according to their work. Like the glorious ending of Psalm 90, which asks God to establish the work of our hands,, this now anticipates that our work will not be in vain.
Perhaps part of what I’m waiting for is the clarity of Psalm 90. That will take a good many years of patiently waiting. I’m not that old yet.