Birthdays are funny. The animal kingdom knows nothing of this practice since only the hyenas have a sense of humor albeit a mean, Bart Simpson-esque one at that. But us humans make a big deal of these dates and numbers and time frames.
“Let them eat cake!” – Unknown
As kids, birthdays were the next best thing to Christmas for most of us. Maybe better even, as they encouraged an air of self-indulgence and certain rights to do stuff on the special day. Kids love that stuff. Birthdays are parties, presents, and a seat at the head of the table for a change.
And then a few more years fly by and that all fades with the weighty task of acknowledging the dates and numbers and time frames. Most of us (Mud) maintain our birthday joy. Others don't as their dates have a significance best left unspoken and not acknowledged. Their numbers reveal meaning. And their time frames illustrate a certain gravity. Gravity. The root word equates with grave.
Hell, I guess, maybe, you are right. What does it matter for you any way, we all are spiraling our way toward compost no matter what we do. So yeah, 50 in a couple years, not a big deal so don’t make it one. How one feels about it is pretty insignificant considering the bazillions of humans who have treaded this exact path before. Ones life is nothing more than a blip on the radar of a map of the universe. You spend a nano-instant flailing with other humans scratching out an existence that might mean something, or not. It’ll all be over before you know it anyway. You hurt. You pain. You hope you have a few good times along the way, like the rest of the human race. And then you die. It’ll have a date. It’ll recognize a couple of your numbers. And the time frame on the tombstone denotes the gravity of one’s life awake. If you’re lucky, some other schmucks might talk about you and say nice things. So, skip the celebration. Ignore the date. Numbers mean nothing. And that time thing (waggle a finger in the air), just an illusion. Forget it all.
I hope it isn't the case anymore. It should be your happy day. It was once a long time ago.
I was thinking about giving you an impossible, backwards gift in sort of "Groundhog Day"-esque fashion. It might not work for you, but it might if it created positive change. If I could I would give you the knowledge of the calendar day you are going to die. Not the year, just the month and the day. Then, every year when you live to see another day/year, you can celebrate the way that most of us celebrate birthdays. To live another year in a pursuit of joy and a good life.
I do hope you have a happy birthday. I do.
