Tomorrow is my 38th birthday. Go me. I am plausibly at mid-life. At least I hope I am at a lower bound of my mid life range. I figure that 76 would be the minimum life span where I would, like, not feel cheated or something. I’m shooting to beat my demographic.
So I am at an age where I am learning to accept some harsh truths about my life, my significance, aging, and the inevitability of death. (Cheerful, ain’t I?) I need to be able to close gently some of the doors kept ajar for the younger man I envisioned my self as up to this point and put my full attention on the doors left to be opened. It’s time to decide how I want to age, what my life’s mission is, and what contribution I want to make.
But screw all that for now. Now’s the time to party. I’m going to stretch it out over a week, sort of.
I plan to make some birthday observances. I will make art. I will pray. I will play basketball. I will play 1KBWC. I will take some Time Off To Take Stock. I will take this opportunity to thank all the people who help make my life what it is. I will write a letter to my Aunt Elinor.
And I’m giving myself some birthday gifts:
I’m starting a Men’s Spirituality group at Church not because I feel some call to duty but because I want such a group in my life and it seems that the quickest way to get it is to start it.
I’m creating my own creative social outlet, starting with 1KBWC this week. More on this later.
I am reviving my bike commuting habit for at least a few days a week.
I am rededicating my prayer life.
I feel like I am at a place in my life where what I make of my birthday is more important than what other people make of it for me. So, happy birthday to me.