WTWN #62 - Celebrate your vulnerability. Have a birthday party!

In the past, I’ve been shy about celebrating myself. I explore why that might have been true.

Birthday lunch, June 5th.

Happy sixtieth birthday to me!

First, a quotation from an amazing novel, The Sheltering Sky, by Paul Bowles:

“Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don't know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It's that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don't know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.” ― Paul Bowles.

Over the course of my adult life, I’ve had a problematic relationship with birthdays.

In my sixtieth birthday post, I noted that when I lived in Minneapolis, I used to have huge parties. But that was part of the problem. It’s not lost on me that “going big” can be much like going underground, as it has the result of getting you off the hook for intimacy. Surrounded by “several hundred of your closest friends,” where’s the chance for a tender moment?

You might argue I wasn't the one doing the entertaining at my parties, as I’d often schedule four or five bands to play in the venues where I’d scheduled my event. And I even disguised them as “HowWasTheShow Anniversary” parties. All that was left for me was to show up.

The parties would have proceeded just fine without me.

The ability to mark one's birthday among a small number of friends requires a sense of self-worth and a capacity for intimacy.

Having a birthday party for yourself asks people to celebrate you for something you didn’t work very hard on. A birthday means you lived another year. For most of us, that is not a difficult feat.

Celebrating real achievements is easier. If I graduate from an elite educational institution (which I’ve done twice), I’ve done something. If I publish a book, I’ve done something. Something for which I put my nose to the grindstone, overcome adversity, and feel I might deserve congratulations.

But birthdays?

One aspect of a birthday is reflecting on the passing of time, especially at milestone ages ending in zeros. Turning sixty brings me unquestionably closer to death, something most people don’t spend a lot of time talking about, or if they do, they often cover it up with humor.

At sixty, there's no rational way to consider myself middle-aged unless I plan to live to 120.

As my sixties commence, I have health concerns, notable changes in mobility and skin, additional trips to the toilet required in the middle of the night, etc. I'm no spring chicken. Joking is a way to make light of things, but something more profound is happening. I'll be lucky to see my recently born son grow into manhood. I'll be 77 when he's 18.

My young children have also worried about my age. What do I tell them? I do not want to lie and say I’ll always be here. “Forever and ever, munchkin princess” worked when my daughter was four, but now that she’s eight -- not so much.

Sharing makes one vulnerable. And I am beginning to see vulnerability as a positive thing, even a strength. (Now, there’s a topic for a whole other essay!)

As I get older, things are falling into place—important stuff: family, friendship, and attentiveness to my physical health and well-being. I have tended to eschew close friendships, but I am ready to admit I cannot survive without them. Studies with empirical data confirm people are healthier and live longer when they have strong friendships, and I don’t doubt them.

My youngest daughter somehow gets it, as evidenced by what she wrote in my birthday card: “As you turn 60, there is nothing more important than your family and friends.”

So, I’m taking a risk and inviting people over. Will people show up to share and congratulate me for simply living another year? Are they glad to still have me around? Am I a good enough person in this world that they would like to see me have "many more," as the refrain from the birthday song goes?

Though I will have a party with a few close friends, as an expat, I can’t help but miss my friends from Minnesota and elsewhere in the world who cannot join me in celebrating this milestone. That sadness is also part of the vulnerability I wish to acknowledge.

It cannot be overlooked that no one in Finland, not even my wife, knew me before I was 46, and most people for far less time.

But I have reached a point where I would like to use my birthday to share appreciation and gratitude for yet another year and my wish for many more to come.

So, join me in a toast with your drink of choice. You never know which birthday will be your last.

“How fragile we are under the sheltering sky. Behind the sheltering sky is a vast dark universe, and we're just so small.” – Paul Bowles.

Be well.