I’ve got a birthday coming up this weekend: I’ll be 37-years-old.
Part of me believes I should mark the occasion with chin-stroking, navel-gazing, and other ponder-related pastimes; that the day should serve as a neon sign and a full-stop on my calendar.
Another part of me argues that this is just an arbitrary date tucked in amongst all the other arbitrary dates. I needn’t take much notice—beyond maybe eating some kind of cake?—and breezing on past (as I typically do with birthdays) is more ideal.
That latter argument is based on the theory that although socially reinforced milestones of this kind can be useful if you’re looking to make consequential changes to your life, if you’ve worked hard to bake iterativeness into your everyday existence (rather than only on holidays) it makes less sense to imbue birthdays with anything more than casual, good-times-having, cake-eating significance.
And for the past handful of years in particular I’ve worked hard to incorporate restrained, quotidian, intentional development into the cobblestones of my life.
Some of the best advice I’ve inherited from folks older than me who’ve gone through this process and had these thoughts already is to start figuring out what you want life to be like, later, before all the vicissitudes of middle-age jump out from behind the sofa and knock you flat, and to prepare for that amended jumble of circumstances to the best of your ability.
It’s easier to get your diet and finances and workout routines and relationships sorted before you’re conked over the head with additional aches and hormone changes and self-image crises, in other words, and I decided several years ago that this was sensible wisdom: I started figuring out who, where, and how I wanted to be in my middle-aged permutation and beyond.
In large part, this has meant rebalancing a lot of my personal equations: identifying disparities and instabilities in how I do things and then trying out new variations; experimenting with my life and work and habits to identify more stable centers of gravity from which to operate in the future.
My ideal equilibrium allows for (and incentivizes) regular boat-rocking and periodic (relatively safe) capsizing, so this has primarily been a process of laying down a foundation that’s malleable enough to survive my (at times) mercurial ambitions, bizarre career trajectories, and circuitous approach to discovering and cultivating passions.
I’ve also had the opportunity to be walloped across the face with some pernicious (though at times overt) health issues recently, which is not something I would have sought out (or that I would wish on anyone else), but which have given me the opportunity to assess things from a new perspective: from the standpoint of someone who is not impervious to significant harm and the many ongoing, perhaps permanent secondary consequences of such ailments.
This has added valuable context to my assumptions and plans, as most of us can expect to deal with more (and more varied) knock-you-on-your-ass health stuff as we grow older, no matter how assiduous our plans and preparations.
All that said, I feel pretty good about adding another year to my collection, in the sense that I wouldn’t give it back if I had the opportunity to do so, and in the sense that I feel like I’ve done a lot to prepare for where I’m going, even as I continue to learn from all the places I’ve already been.
I also feel really good right now, both physically and mentally, which is a sentiment I don’t take for granted and one I try to notice and cherish whenever I’m in the position to do so.
What I’m feeling most pointedly at present, though, is an immense sense of gratitude and good fortune. And I suspect in a few days, when the calendar tells me I’m different than I was the day before, I’ll be able to thank my past self for the investments he made, happily continue making investments for my future self, and savor a moment in which things are pretty good.
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