Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.
It is so rare that I act "just because." I only go to the doctor when I feel something is really wrong. I only elaborate when an explanation is necessary. I only approach when avoidance is impossible. And I know I'm not alone. In general, people act for a reason (though the merit of that reason is always debatable). Our actions are sometimes based off our own individual experiences, but more often, we act in company. Coming together in dark times, for example. After all, misery loves company. On the flip side, we also come together to celebrate special occasions -- and human cultures have been doing so for thousands of years.
In Ancient Rome, masters and slaves alike enjoyed Saturnalia, a mid-winter festival filled with days of drinking and debauchery. In Spain, tens of thousands of people convene in the streets on the last Wednesday of every August for La Tomatina, an epic battle where over one hundred tons of ripe tomatoes are pelted. The Hindu festival of colors, Holi, is one in which people celebrate by throwing colored powder and water at one another.
In my mind, these are prototypical celebrations. True fun. A total and complete shedding of inhibitions. A coming together of friends, family, and strangers alike. Utter disregard for rules or what is socially appropriate or "normal." Entrance into an alternate universe -- one where there is no bad, sad, mad, or other three-letter Dr. Seussian adjective. A universe where you very much act "just because."
This past week, I celebrated my very own Saturnalia-Tomatina-Holi, or in layman's terms, birthday. A day where you quite literally celebrate life in all its glory. As much as birthdays are a time to reflect on your past year(s) and future aspirations, they are also a time to just let your hair down (and for some, bring it back up) and celebrate. With each birthday, no matter how old you might be, the day is one where you can feel like a child again. You can "want stuff." You can "get stuff." Even complete strangers join in on the festivities in an effort to make your day just a little better.
Ironically, your birthday is not only about you (What? Did that just come out of a Leo?). Your birthday is as much about you as it is about the people in your life. It's a day (or week...) when these close ones come together to have a good time. A time to be reunited (maybe in person, maybe via some other mode of communication) with wonderful people who have touched you at some point or another. No matter whether its been days or months since you've communicated, the birthday is the revival.
From midnight surprises to trying to blow out sparkler candles to an embarrassing tiara to sprinting out of trains to inexplicable debauchery to a pen-ink tattoo to an all-you-cannot-eat buffet to reveling in the "good times" over a sugary rush, it was indeed a golden birthday, and is right up there with the likes of Saturnalia.
By the end of my slave-turned-master-colored powder-tomato juice battle, I was anything but a wounded soldier. It's hard to be wounded when you are reminded of all the people that make your life what it is and that make you who you are.
In Ancient Rome, masters and slaves alike enjoyed Saturnalia, a mid-winter festival filled with days of drinking and debauchery. In Spain, tens of thousands of people convene in the streets on the last Wednesday of every August for La Tomatina, an epic battle where over one hundred tons of ripe tomatoes are pelted. The Hindu festival of colors, Holi, is one in which people celebrate by throwing colored powder and water at one another.
In my mind, these are prototypical celebrations. True fun. A total and complete shedding of inhibitions. A coming together of friends, family, and strangers alike. Utter disregard for rules or what is socially appropriate or "normal." Entrance into an alternate universe -- one where there is no bad, sad, mad, or other three-letter Dr. Seussian adjective. A universe where you very much act "just because."
This past week, I celebrated my very own Saturnalia-Tomatina-Holi, or in layman's terms, birthday. A day where you quite literally celebrate life in all its glory. As much as birthdays are a time to reflect on your past year(s) and future aspirations, they are also a time to just let your hair down (and for some, bring it back up) and celebrate. With each birthday, no matter how old you might be, the day is one where you can feel like a child again. You can "want stuff." You can "get stuff." Even complete strangers join in on the festivities in an effort to make your day just a little better.
Ironically, your birthday is not only about you (What? Did that just come out of a Leo?). Your birthday is as much about you as it is about the people in your life. It's a day (or week...) when these close ones come together to have a good time. A time to be reunited (maybe in person, maybe via some other mode of communication) with wonderful people who have touched you at some point or another. No matter whether its been days or months since you've communicated, the birthday is the revival.
From midnight surprises to trying to blow out sparkler candles to an embarrassing tiara to sprinting out of trains to inexplicable debauchery to a pen-ink tattoo to an all-you-cannot-eat buffet to reveling in the "good times" over a sugary rush, it was indeed a golden birthday, and is right up there with the likes of Saturnalia.
By the end of my slave-turned-master-colored powder-tomato juice battle, I was anything but a wounded soldier. It's hard to be wounded when you are reminded of all the people that make your life what it is and that make you who you are.
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