It's my birthday. I never know what to do or feel on "the day". Celebrations are awkward at best in my family and I suck at being the center of attention. I'll go to Mom's for lunch-it's bean day, and I just asked for beans so as not to disrupt anyone's eating schedule. I like beans, and can eat them scheduled or unscheduled.
I really am 48 now-I always think of my age as whatever the ending digit of the current year is, so by the time it actually arrives, I'm pretty used to the number. Maybe I'll suspend that at 50 and spend a good long time at 49. Or not. The closer it gets, the less it bothers me. 40 was a huge disappointment-I woke up expecting to feel "different" and.......nothing. Same old me, new day.
I've been married, raised a child, so I don't have any of those female deadlines hovering over me. Pretty much all that's left is just to die, and I think I'll take my time on that one. I tell friends that have either not been married or raised children that they haven't missed a lot, but they don't believe me. I think we all need things to define ourselves, and one of those things is "what we didn't get." That's pretty sad when you think about it.
Maybe we should define ourselves by what we got, or what we are going to do, or what color your coffee was this morning-anything but the empty spaces. Definition by emptiness just doesn't compute, does it? Maybe that's why we get so bogged down in it-defining emptiness is a pretty endless process. It's pretty futile too.
I think that's how clutter happens-we try to fill the empty spaces with things. The things become "ours, us" and we don't see beyond them. Then we sit, surrounded by things we don't see, and stare at that empty space-and never see the bright and beautiful world beyond.
Fortunately (geeze, I can't end with a downer on my birthday)....the bright and beautiful world remains, waiting only for a change of perspective. In my case, that usually comes in the undeniable truth of a parrot who loves to make farting noises. The truth is, none of this matters much, and Oliver toots often and loud to remind me of that. Crass, yes, but the truth will set you free.