Birthday Magic
When I showed up at Stephen’s for dinner on Tuesday, July 31st, I was jabbering the very moment he opened his front door, explaining how the half-dozen photos and Buzz cola in my hand were his sounvineers from my recent visit to the Cicero Illinois’ Quik-e-Mart…quite an interesting makeover of a traditional 7-11…
But Stephen wasn’t really listening. “Yes, yes.†he said and ushered me strongly across the threshold and practically pushed me into the dining room.
There was the smallest instant of space – a micro-second before voices in unison screamed, “SURPRISE!†and I remember thinking, ‘Oh. Look at all the people.’
And then…
“SURPRISE!†Oh. I gaped.
I silently wished that I had showered that day. And shaved. And worn non-sweaty clothes.
“If I knew there was a party for me, I totally would have showered!†I sputtered.
Everyone laughed and I continued to stare.
Then I silently wished I had a stronger filter between what I think and what I say aloud.
My eyes scanned the room and it’s hard to describe this…my heart hurt. Hurt. Not the traditional meaning of hurt – as if damaged and in anguish – it was the opposite: as if I could not process this much love, this many people I love all standing in one space, grinning, smiling at me, holding wine glasses and tiny plates with Stephen’s famous meatballs.
My heart was bursting – a flash flood swelling through me that made my arms tremble a little bit and the thought crossed through me, ‘This is too much. Too much love.’
Mind you, only about 3 seconds had passed.
Then I was rushed.
Logan and Cian (Best Goddaughters Ever) flung themselves at me and attacked my legs. They were dressed as princesses that night, and Logan was wearing the pink sparkly princess cape I bought her for her April birthday. (Her next birthday she’s getting a book on engineering principles to balance out the girlygirlyness of the cape.)
“SURPRISESURPRISESURPRISESURPRISE!†yelled Cian. (Cian is three.)
Yes, I grinned at her. Surprised.
Cian’s eyes were shining, laughing, excited.
My heart kept breaking.
“It’s your birthday!†Cian gleefully explained. “It’s your birthday.”
The chaos of the party took over and I spent approximately 2.4 minutes engaged in heartfelt conversation with one person before I was pulled into a different conversation. With each rich conversation I marveled how I knew this person, how ridiculously I have been blessed with friends.The whole time, my mind was reeling. Or rather…that’s not quite right.
If I’ve learned anything from Eckhart Tolle’s This New Earth, it’s that in these moments, it’s not my mind that’s reeling, it’s my Higher Self, the awakened part of me that lives beyond my mind, beyond my ego. And this radiant me was spinning around arms flung wide, dancing, laughing. This Higher Me looks surprisingly like Princess Cian. Except, you know, more manly.
And then there was cake.
To understand the moment of the cake – the magic that happened, you must know this: for the weeks before my birthday I was feeling a little existential anxiety. I was turning 40.
40!
Entering the heart attack zone, the chronic back pain decades straight ahead, entering the Serious Life Goals age, where it’s no longer just ‘cute’ to bitch about work and say, “Ah some day a better job will come along.â€
What have I done with my life? Have I spent my life wisely? Why don’t I know everything already – why don’t I have perfect clarity on life goals, career goals, why haven’t I figured out how to get into bed before 10:30 instead of watching Reno911 episodes on DVD until 1:00 a.m.?
Despite the swirling questions, I hadn’t quite panicked – I know that I’m pretty happy with the way things are turning out. I’ve got my share of regrets. And yet I love the life path I’m on. I have loved and opened my heart a little bigger. Then opened it a little bigger. Dealt with my baggage and opened my heart a little bigger. This is a good path for me.
Yet there’s a little gnawing around the edges, some curious rats making tiny chew marks on the edges of my self-confidence. I sense them. I hear them with their tiny teeth chipping away, chipping away. Scurrying and scampering looking for a soft spot to chomp.
And pre-40th birthday, they gnawed and chewed a little more furiously.
Stephen marched me in front of everyone and dropped the cake in my outstretched hands, a spongy towering perfection propelled even taller with creamy pink icing. It was ridiculously beautiful – one of those gorgeous fake cakes that you see on TV birthdays but you console yourself believing it spends most of the year gathering dust in the prop room. (Okay, that’s what I do.) It even came in a pink bakery box, a tiny detail I found endearing.
Stephen stood next to me and lit a single tapered candle, announcing, “Okay time to sing.†My friends began the traditional birthday song began shyly at first, then gaining confidence, and then blossoming into a jovial chorus with a few even daring to harmonize each time the singers gained vigor. Glorious singing.
I watched and held the cake. I’m sure I blushed to have this many people singing. I remember the singing, cheery eyes, voices of friends. But in my head I just kept repeating
DON’TDROPTHECAKE
DON’TDROPTHECAKE
DON’TDROPTHECAKE
I had a feeling that being the Birthday Boy wouldn’t buy much leniency should this masterpiece slide out of my hands and SPLAT on the hardwood floor. After the crescendo and the last note blew out like a candle, there was soft applause.
Stephen reminded me to make a wish. I looked at the candle held next to me, my arms outstretched with the pink and golden cake.
The wish came from deep within, from a place beyond logical thought, temporary emotions. My Higher Self. In fact, the response didn’t come in the form of words at all – it was pre-words, beyond words.
Utter love, utter perfection.
Bliss!
The perfectness of this moment.
Of this life.
Words formed a split second later trying to harness this state of perfection, this glorious, unsullied moment. Words like: ‘Wish? What wish? There’s nothing to want. I already have everything. I already have it all.’
I gently blew out the candle, surprised, amazed.
In that single non-wish, that glorious moment of not wanting anything else, of not needing anything to be different – the gently gnawing rats of self-doubt scurried away, fleeing into my shadows. Gone.
Since that moment, there’s been a subtle transformation. While undoubtedly self-doubt survives and will creep back to gnaw at me again, any qualms about turning 40 have been completely eradicated.
Birthday magic.
August 20th, 2007 at 11:14 am
Damn, Edmond. You scored a little bit of fantastic. Good for you. Happy 40. I do the same later this month. How on earth do we corretly receive, embody, and regurgitate such starstuff? Maybe that kind of wisdom comes on the other side of 40. Happy Freakin’ Birthday, Edmond.