Turning 30 brought a very interesting insight. Namely how insignificant it really is. Everyone makes a big deal out of it, most of them with a negative spin of it, but also in a positive way: “Turning 30 is the best!” which is what I’ve been saying to everyone. Truth be told, though, I don’t really care at all. I don’t feel any different, I don’t look any different and even if I did it really has nothing to do with the number that Facebook tells me is the amount of years I’ve been alive.
Time is just something that flows. It happens to only flow in one direction (as far as we’re able to perceive anyway) but it’s a flow, nothing more. We want to make everything ‘mean’ something, especially age. But if you think about it, there are multiple people in the world who don’t know their exact age and also people who thought they knew their exact age but later found out they were wrong. To them, things wouldn’t have been any different if they had known the correct age all along and the difference only comes in when ego does.
Ego, in the most superficial sense of the word, makes us vain and petty. Which is perfectly fine if it only affects us personally, but when it starts affecting others I think it becomes a malady of the worst kind. We treat others differently because of their age, and sometimes we change the way we look at and interact with people when we find out their age to the polar opposite of what we used to. It’s a ridiculous behaviour and the only reason we do it is because of the aforementioned ego.
30 years of age does look pretty cool though, I must say. I am happier now than I was at 20 and I feel more stable – emotionally, mentally and physically – than I did at 25. I feel like I’m on the right path of doing the right thing with my life and I’m in touch with my emotions in a way that I have never been before.
This has, however, nothing to do with me turning 30. It’s because of my process that I started before I turned 30. The most significant change I have ever gone through, before or after, happened when I was 27 and 28. Does that mean that 27 and 28 are the ages of insight and enlightenment, overall? Of course not. I know 60 year olds who are more witless and immature than my brother was at 18. The old cliche, “age is just a number” is more true than one would think. We usually use it to rationalise why someone is dating another person where the age gap is considered too much. But it actually holds truth in the most fundamental parts of life as well.
Life is just life and how old you are has no meaning. If anything has meaning (and I’m not saying this has) it would be what you do with the time you have.
Being afraid of a number is the silliest thing in the world and we don’t even know why we are nor can we even see that we are, most of the times. Every time someone has asked me before and after turning 30 “how it feels” the only thing they do is project their own fear of aging unto me. It sounds a bit harsh, but that’s what I see. I don’t mean everyone is afraid but most all people that has asked me has had that look in their face that tells me they want me to validate their fear with telling them how I also fear aging.
Fear of age is just an extension of our fear of death, which in itself is just an extension of fear of nothingness – of nonbeing.
If you don’t have the latter, you don’t have the former. It’s really as simple as that.
Remember your death – Memento Mori