I turned 40 this past weekend and it seems as good a topic to write about as any. That’s 14,610 days, including leap years.
Here are some highlights from the weekend.
It started off Saturday morning during my last day as a 39-year old partaking in an annual event connected with the men’s work organization I’m affiliated with. It’s a physical competition dubbed “The Wolverine” comprising various events among the different squads of men vying for the coveted trophy of an actual wolverine tooth. Think Sports Day for grown men. I was reminded of my physical limitations as I tweaked my back during one of the events and prudently withdrew from further events to avoid further injury. “Discretion is the better part of valor,” as the saying goes. At the closing of the event, my birthday was acknowledged by one of the organizers and I was promptly hoisted by a score of men not dissimilar to crowdsurfing at a rock concert.
I began my celebrations that evening with a sushi dinner among friends. Speaking candidly, organizing my own birthday was a challenge as event planning is not particularly in my bailiwick, though I’m glad I took it on. To give friends multiple opportunities to celebrate with me, I organized a dinner, morning coffee, lunch and jam session.
On the Sunday morning of my birthday, a friend sent me a thought provoking prompt for reflection on whether I regretted my life. I had a good belly laugh for several minutes before deciding it would be a great opportunity to journal.
Here’s an excerpt from journal entry on my birthday, polished for publication.
Certainly there are some regrets but by and large, no. I hold the frame that everyone is walking their own life journey and comparison is ultimately inappropriate, though there are baseline comparisons people will inevitably make. Upholding those standards is a personal choice. Perhaps this is the heart of authenticity, to either take on the standards that society or culture impresses upon us, or to reject them in favor of one's own. From a conventional perspective, I suppose I could regret my life: I’m not particularly successful financially, I do not have a partner or children or parents or a house or a job. What do I have? I have relatively good health. I have a large degree of freedom and mobility. I have a family that I'm on good terms with. I have no enemies. On the contrary, I have friends and am a cherished member of an intentional community. I have precious memories that are distorting by the day. But my heart knows I did those things. I’ve traveled around the world and gone on adventures. I have learned many things, cultivated some talents and still have my wits, for now. On the matter of the heart, perhaps there are some regrets about being braver in that domain, to have taken more emotional risks earlier on, to have discovered growth work sooner in my life. Such was not my path. So on the whole there's nothing to regret and what would be the point? There's nothing to change so why bother regretting it? I'm of the opinion that we can change our past simply by reinterpreting it so the narrative capacity of our life is essentially limitless. After all, the past doesn't even really exist except as a series of memories and stories. There is no past and there is no future except what we can access right here and now.
Thinking further about this journal entry, if I had to name one regret, it would be having withheld expressing my love and affection out of fear. And I suppose a useful way of interpreting regret is as an opportunity for growth.
Another fond highlight came during lunch at a Vietnamese fusion restaurant, when I cheekily asked my server, “What’s the meaning of life?” And she asked if I wanted to hear her response, as she had been previously asked, also in somewhat random fashion, and had inspired her to reflect. Of course I said yes. It was beautifully articulate and cogent while I caught myself nodding along in agreement. While I do not remember precisely what she said, the two themes that stood out were the importance of connection and enjoyment.
After lunch, I organized a jam session with the help of good friends, as making music is reliably one of my greatest sources of joy. The sheer spontaneity of co-creating music on the spot with no plan is one of the closest things to actual magic I have the privilege to enjoy. And so we played.
As I join the ranks of the middle aged, I would like to share some parting thoughts and cultural observations. While perhaps shifting gradually, the overwhelming tone of society glorifies youth and abhors aging. I ruefully note that not everyone makes it to 40. Apart from accidents and disease, suicide rates in Canada are approximately 3 times higher among men compared to women. In some ways, 40 is an inflection point. Statistically speaking, I have lived more life than there is life yet to live, though barely. And even though I am in relative good health and maintain a healthy lifestyle, from an ultimate perspective life and death truly are beyond our control. As September 19 marks the 8th anniversary of my dad’s passing, this time of year brings reflections befitting the equinox. Although nearly imperceptible living day to day, I can more easily disidentify with body, mind and achievements as my faculties gradually decline. With a certain attitude, it’s quite liberating really. I find it conducive to maturity, renunciation and mentorship. Life doesn’t have to be so much about me.
After all, what’s left but to give it all away? It’s all going away anyway.
PS: I’m putting the finishing touches on my first book… stay tuned.
Happy birthday :) "After all, what’s left but to give it all away? It’s all going away anyway." wise words from a newly minted 40 year old
This is such a beautiful reflection. "if I had to name one regret, it would be having withheld expressing my love and affection out of fear." I concur.