It’s hard to believe sometimes. Happy birthday to me, 11,315 days of life. And there’s no guarantee i’ll get any more than that.
I’m grateful for all of them. For all the things that have gone wrong, my life has been pretty incredible. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for.
I think I’ll list them here.
- The people I love. Family, friends, the great loves of my life.
- My books. My love of storytelling, of imagination, of history.
- My health. I feel young, stronger than I ever have before, and largely unhindered.
- My curiosity. I’ve been gifted with a love of learning, of enjoying new things, of reveling in growth. It’s made my life a lot of fun and painless in many ways.
- My pride. I feel proud of who I am, of the light in bring into other people’s lives just by being who I am (I know that sounds arrogant as fuck) and the pride I take in the choices I’ve made and the things I have done. Even the mistakes. Even the big ones.
- The world. Because it’s gorgeous, endlessly interesting, tragic and beautiful all at the same time. Getting a chance to live life is so incredible.
I was thinking today about just having the chance to live, and how improbable that is. How many people, how many bloodlines died out just to the path of history? How many near misses were there where your ancestors might have died before they could conceive the next generation have their been?
Just our very existence here is a marvel of probability, an incredible gift, a confluence of chance and love.
I don’t plan on wasting it.
Have a good one, everyone. I know I will. Happy birthday to me.