"To hold dear." Can you hold dear the things that detonate your universe? Can you feel affection for events you would often rather forget?
In a perverse way I find the answer to be yes, yes. The turning at 50, and everything since has been the most remarkable experience. I thought I'd already lived an extraordinary life; I didn't know shit. All the awards, the good fortune, the landing-on-my-feet trick that maddened my sworn enemies and emboldened me? Useless to save myself from what happened almost three years ago, and everything after.
But I treasure the sea change. Without it I would not appreciate how lucky I've been.
Seriously: as a Young Turk in radio news I sometimes mused about conquering one medium at a time. And now I have.
I let bad habits linger and fester and they whiplashed me with a vengeance. Now I'm better, healthier, and far less likely to wind up as an A-block story about idiocy gone awry.
I used to be careless with emotions, all rage and passion, and to hell with fidelity. Now I'm more circumspect; maybe too cautious, perhaps too gunshy for good, but I understand what happens when the sun chariot goes out of control. Unlike Phaethon I survived the lightning bolt. I won't be so reckless with the sun next time. If there is a next time.
So yeah, I cherish what has happened to me. Every shock to the system comes with bits of surprising joy. It sometimes makes me cry, and sometimes I even smile and laugh. Back there, at the start of the last turning, I didn't spend a lot of time appreciating the joy and the peace it brought me. One more thing to hold dear now, as another turning looms.