Why 40 is the New 30

We had a surprise birthday party for a friend of mine.

She turned 30.

But 30 is the new 20.

No. That’s not right.

Not 20.  No one wants to be 20.

At 20, you’re an idiot.  Not old enough to be useful but too old to be a kid.  You’re old enough to die for your country but not old enough to buy a beer.

Maybe 30 is the new 25.

At 25, you’re looking at the horizon.  You’re seeing the possibilities.  You feel like you’ll live forever.

At 25 you start to worry.  Because your next birthday, you’ll be closer to 30 than 20.  And although you’re 25 and invincible, you see what’s around the corner.

At 25 my hair was thinning and I was still in medical school.

Maybe 30 is the new 27.

27 is cursed.

Many of my childhood idols died at 27: Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison.

Jason told me we’d be lucky to live past it.  Not because we were famous like these people, but because we saw the trend.  And it was like the Law of Attraction.  Once you notice something, you risk speaking it into existence.

But we lived.

At 27 I was finishing up my internship.  Long nights of no-sleep and on-call, uncertainty, anxiety.  I don’t want to do that again.

So maybe 30 is the new 28.

28 is a respectable age.

At 28 you know you lived past the cursed 27.

At 28 you’re probably heading in the direction you want to go.

At 28 maybe you’re starting a family or getting your career going.  Or you’re realizing that neither of these 2 things are the end all be all.  You’re finding out it’s okay to just be yourself.

You may not consider yourself successful yet but hey….. you’ve got plenty of time.

You’re starting to feel like an adult.  (But you still appreciate crude jokes.)

But at 28 you feel age creeping in.

Maybe 30 is just 30.

No more, no less.

Maybe it’s just what you allow it to be.

Maybe at 30 you look around and you either like who you’re becoming or you make a decision to change.

Maybe at 30, if you haven’t seen it yet,  you start to see what really matters in life.

Maybe there’s nothing magical about a number.  No guarantees in life.  No safe passage.

Maybe we notice our crows feet and frown lines.  Maybe we decide we don’t care.  Or maybe botox.

But what do I know…I’m 39?

Maybe the arteries start to clog.

Maybe the shadow of death makes an eclipse.

Maybe the cancer starts to grow.

Maybe sleep doesn’t come as easy.

Maybe our knees start to ache.

Maybe the hop in our step is dampened.

Maybe the job didn’t work out.

Maybe it is our fault after all.

Maybe the divorce is finalized.

Maybe you bury the dog in the back yard.

Maybe the kids cry.

Maybe you fall asleep after crying.

Maybe you put on a few pounds.

Maybe you forget what it was you started out doing in the first place.

Maybe you forget why it even mattered.

Close to 40 and I’m starting to think about the inevitable.

I know that clinging to the impermanent only brings pain, but dang it,  I like living.

Maybe there’s something else.

Maybe we embrace the present.

Accept what we have.

Find gratitude in the small things.

Speak kind words to someone.

Speak kind words to ourselves.

Double down on friendship.

Cut out the crappy food that makes us feel sick.

Go outside and walk.

Finally learn Spanish like we’ve been talking about for years.

Reject other people’s expectations.

Reject our own expectations.

Kill our useless obligations.

Minimize our distractions.

Give our extra clothes to goodwill.

Bake cupcakes for the widow down the street.

Tell a teacher thanks.

Write a song.

Visit the animal shelter.

Drink another cup of coffee.

Turn off the news and watch comedy.

Listen to music without words.

Meditate for 20 minutes.

Live for the day.

And accept whatever is coming our way.

It’s not perfect.  But we take it on headfirst.

Maybe 40 is the new 30 and at 30 we finally decide what we do with what we have left.

Nah…….

30 is the just the new 29.

And 40…

Well I haven’t quite figured that one out yet.

But I’ve got time.

Maybe