I turned 40 yesterday. All through the day I had trouble remembering it was my birthday, I had more important things to do. Like buying cake for my colleagues, even though I had the day off, etc. Even though that was because I turned 40, I mostly did it because it was just a fun thing to do.
What does matter is that I spent the week-end and monday with my kids and family, that my life is moving in the right direction now, and that I have a job I really like and that keep me learning and doing fun and challenging things.
The more I scrutinize my own feelings about turning 40 I just find nothing. It does not matter to me.
It feels increasingly hard understanding why some people think it’s anything special. It is not.
I felt the same when I turned 30. Nothing.
Maybe it’s just that I’ve understood that the numbers we use to measure time are a continuum, that the arrow of time always only point one way, and how you spend that time is what matters.
Perhaps I should give my birthday away, like Seth Godin.
Next birthday is a good one to start with, 41 is a prime number. If anything, they are actually special numbers, and they’re universal and radix independent. I will give my next birthday away; to what, I don’t know. Yet.