Yesterday was my birthday and I was forced, as I am every year, to consider how much less concern I have for my own birthday than the people around me.  Since I don’t put much stock in age, it’s  practically meaningless to me.

There is one thing I like about birthdays in general.  I think celestial events should be celebrated to connect people with the solar system we are a part of.  Solstice and Equinox are my festivals of choice, and they come at convenient intervals.  In my mind, birthdays are just a more self-centered version of the real celestial festivals.  Oh everyone look at me!  I went around the sun one more time.  Why wouldn’t we all celebrate together?  It a way, birthdays are divisive.

And as I said before, I don’t care much about age.  If you are smart and interesting, what care I if you’ve done 16 or 60 rotations?  I think most people agree that ageism is a bad thing, yet when we go round once more we expect a special day?

And yet I’m forced, as usual, to swallow my own words.  As with all the holidays I don’t care about, this random, meaningless occasion gave me cause to spend time with the friends and family.  That is, I contend, the real meaning of birthdays, valentines day, christmas, easter, thanksgiving, and on, and on, and on.  IMG_7837

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