2008-12-15
i wish...
Time is sliced up somewhat arbitrarily, and we retrospectively look upon things within these artificially imposed frames: yesterday, 2 o'clock, the nineties. The earth�s orbits around the sun make these temporal classifications more sensible, and the lunar phases and Julius Augustus Cesar and others helped some, too.
And so, by these time frames, today I find myself with a special categorization for this day: it�s my birthday. Twenty-one years ago to the calendar day, I entered this world and began my existence (within this life, to mystically qualify that statement). Today�s the anniversary of my birth, and on the anniversary of landmark events in our timeline of life, we celebrate them!
Instead, I�m opting for reflective commemoration. Some of that�s not a choice. The people I truly love celebrating with aren�t with me right now, they�re scattered across the globe and pretty much impossible to bring together. But I guess that would be the biggest gift I could ever dream of for my birthday- to bring together all the people whose lives are tied to me through our special camaraderie, friends I�ve made in so many different places and times, even people that don�t know each other, celebrating, being bound maybe even by only the singular similarity of having me as a common friend. I wouldn�t want this egotistically, but in celebration of my existence, I would inherently have to celebrate the things which define, inspire, and compel my life. And those things are my friends, all of them, in the incredible blend in which they live in my heart, being the reason for all phases of my life to prosper: the past, this very moment, and the prospect times to come. I exist for them and because of them. So when it comes to celebrating me, cheers to them.
I also am going for reflective commemoration because, as I candidly admit, it�s something I seem to fall into. I�m going out to dinner with my parents and my sister. And yeah, I�m definitely ordering a drink.
In contemplating this whole birthday thing, there�s already a question I�m raising in my mind: what to wish for when I blow out my birthday cake candles?
I�m not superstitious, but I take rituals like this seriously (or at least think about them with a fair amount of energy), half out of respect for their greatness and sacredness, and half out of hope that maybe they might somehow be true. That combination, I�m aware, falls short of faith and steadfast belief. But it�s the best I can genuinely conjure. It�s how I feel about God, luck, and Santa Claus, and yes, it�s how I feel about making a wish on my birthday.
Usually I wish for grand sweeping things- stuff that can�t be quantified, but only appreciated when you have the selective vision for it. That makes me never really disappointed, and by the time this moment comes around the next year, I�ve already forgotten what I�ve wished for last time, but I have a vague sense of satisfaction that I somehow got it.
But this time, in the spirit of gratefulness that I mentioned last time, in the height of my appreciation, I can�t really think of something that�s lacking in my life.
I don�t want to wish for more of something that I already have- that doesn�t seem to fit.
I know I could make a wish for someone else; that would be altruistic and kind and such, but I don�t particularly want to, and I think that sort of giving works much better when you�re sincerely willing.
Honestly, the things that come to mind for me to wish for feel more like resolutions than wishes. �I wish to be� a better writer.� �I wish to� be a better girlfriend.� They just don�t fit the same way. These aren�t really wishes, because they are somewhat in my power. But maybe that�s the best type of wish after all: one you can fulfill yourself.
But is that even a wish? Have I become too wise to wish? Or do I just lack the faith that�s needed to wish? Also, wishing for something entreats help from an outer source (an unreliable one), which suggests a lack of self-sufficiency. And, in light of my recent campaign for gratefulness, doesn�t wishing for something also imply that you�re maybe not appreciative of all you now have, because you�re asking for more?
I have a tentative idea of what I could go for: I wish for� more of the same. But that�s lame. Wishing for more of the same doesn�t sound like progress. I do want more of the same, but I also want less of it too. And that also seems to be a guarantee: life in the future will undoubtedly hold more and less of the past. So much for wishing for it- it�s already granted.
This is getting tough. I�ve really reduced myself here. I�ve already tentatively struck out wishing for: something vast, something for someone else, something more of what I already have, something I can fulfill for myself, and something that is more and less of the same.
I think I�m having trouble deciding just how much discretion I want to allow myself in fulfilling my own wish. Do I want it to be magically beyond my ability to act on it, or do I want to have an active role in bringing it to fruition? The latter seems to be a more likely route to making the wish come true, depending on the wish, of course.
But the former has a certain twinkle to it. Each candle blown out is like a star in the sky, possessing some ineffable greatness above and beyond my tiny human reach. And those stars, for me, today they align. Maybe I don�t have absolute faith in things that are beyond my capacity to fully comprehend. But that doesn�t mean I can�t sincerely believe, and especially not on a day with as much potential and specialness as today. I smile at the possibilities.
The wish is a secret. I won�t tell anyone, or it won�t come true. But to be sure, those candles will meet their fate: my wish will earnestly rise from my lungs and sweep forth to extinguish the flames. Happy Birthday!
leesah-likes at 1:51 p.m.