Standing at the Door

In three days I turn 23, which those who have ever worked in bars realize has absolutely no importance. This is true for every birthday across every landmark year; no one actually cares about your birthday. People would do better to call it what it is, and just go drink themselves into oblivion. I digress, and this is not how I plan to spend the 8th of March, 2012. One of the beauties of age is that you realize you can spend a day -- any day -- how you wish, and not give a damn what anybody else wants to do.

For many years I was surrounded by older and wiser people, so no matter what age I turned I always managed to feel young. This year the tables have turned, and most of the people I'm around are under legal drinking age back home. In Spain they are armed with alcoholic beverages in public for the first time, and shit gets crazy. For whatever reason, standing atop the Rock of Gibraltar last week, this number feels greater than last year's number, but there's not much we can do about that.



I spent years battling the age dilemma, trying to convince every new acquaintance I in fact, wasn't actually just 21. At 19 on a flight to Austin, I sat next to a beautiful public relations representative for Matthew McConaughey, and things were going so well until she discovered I was seven years younger. This along with a few other experiences shocked me, but all we know is what we know, who we know, and what we were like way back then, so it's natural these images kill it all before it begins. I still adamantly oppose the age card, because its our experiences, our mistakes, and our risks that make us who we are. It's not difficult to say that a 20 year old on his worst day can be a better husband than a 40 year old on his best. It all is indeed relative, and I find with time those stuck on age tend to be those least satisfied with their own.

The beauty of birthdays is strictly personal; it's a nice landmark to gauge ourselves. I certainly look back at a period of my life called 22, and see something I made good. Three continents and an Ironman is no small feat, and I hope 23 just gets better. These landmarks allow us space for an honest talk that examines what have we done and what haven't we done and why the fuck haven't we done it yet and who the hell is going to help us when we are all alone. When we go on and on with excuses year after year, we should not be surprised to wake up one day, questioning where all the time went, wondering how we became that 40 year old we never wanted to be.

I know a lot of people -- too many people -- who feel a little lost and out of time. Paulo Coelho can sometimes be great with words, and he says this in his own perfect way:

"Can a person remain his whole life in this situation?

He can be pushed by life, but resist and remain there, always complaining – and his suffering will be useless, will teach him nothing.

Yes, a person can stand for the rest of his days facing one of the many doors he should go through, but he must understand that he has only truly lived up to that point. He may continue to breathe, walk, sleep and eat – but with less and less pleasure, because he is already spiritually dead and does not know it.

Until one day when, as well as his spiritual death, physical death appears; at that moment God will ask: “what did you do with your life?” We must all answer this question, and woe betide those who answer: “I remained standing at the door.”