I hope no one minds since this is not strictly psychology-related but is instead, a reflection on my turning 37 today.
Today is my birthday!
I turned 37, which is apparently an event, although I can't really agree that it is in any way an important event. I realise, all too clearly, the hypocrisy of saying my birthday is not an event and then writing a post about it, but a writer must write when the mood takes them. I've been asked a few times today what do I fancy doing? As if there were some golden ticket to be found that would make this birthday complete. Most of those sorts of inquiries come from my utterly devoted and always thoughtful wife, whose generosity of spirit puts me to shame. But in truth, I really cannot think of anything. Perhaps it's a stunning lack of imagination, but I write fiction so I don't think it's that. Rather, I can't think of anything but to see family (done), read (done and doing more later), and spend time with the wife and our two dogs (doing). Other than those things, I cannot say that I am missing anything, and any other events which flow into this day are but mere adornments on the already complete day which is today. I think one may lead themselves into a frenzy looking for the perfect way in which to spend a day, and I've noticed that staying within the present moment is often the escape that we seek, yet abandon so easily. Today, I'll enjoy the taste of coffee. I'll be able to enjoy the sound of music and read excellent literature and post my thoughts to a long-suffering audience. Is there anything else I need? I can't think of it. Perhaps birthdays are too often the source of dread over the passing of time, but today all I can think of is that I've had 37 years of conversation, learning from my mistakes, reading, love, and curiosity. Birthdays may give one a chance to appreciate all that has come before and what is yet to come. Perhaps it may be time to change our psychological relationship with desire. Our wants and our consumerist inclinations can lead us away from the joys of the present moment. What I have learned is that sometimes the best gift is not wrapped, it is the 15 stolen minutes of intimate conversation with a friend. It is the warm rays of sunshine penetrating the room as music courses through the impenetrable barriers of flesh and bone. Today is a day of innumerable gifts, one of which will be taking the dog out and throwing a stick and seeing the complete pleasure on his face. Sometimes the best gift is not about the gift gotten, but the gift that is given. Today is a good day, this moment is a good moment. And as someone who suffers from periodic bouts of depression, that's all you can ever ask for.Thanks for reading