Birthdays: those arbitrary markers of the passage of time that help us look inward and ask a bunch of whys(?)
I didn’t ask any why when I celebrated my 29th birthday a couple of weeks ago. I just celebrated. I celebrated the fact that I am alive, sentient and have the ability to create meaning. I celebrated the various, unwarranted gifts that have been given to me, randomly and undeservedly. I celebrated, and I celebrated hard with people I loved and who loved me.
This is how I intend to live out year 29. Celebrating, being present with my loved ones, and taking comfort in the fact that I am a small magnification of the universe, and that’s entirely enough reason to celebrate.