It is my birthday today, woo-hoo!
For now I'm all of forty-two,
and if what Douglas Adams said is true,
I now should have all the answers to
every question ever asked of me and you,
every how and why, every what and when and who,
but as it turns out, here I am again,
pondering, wondering, going a little insane,
with no questions left, getting a bit bird-brained,
there's something amiss, a lack of restraint?
Perhaps it is my brevity I seem to have lost in the bargain.
I have waited for ages to turn 42, as if somehow turning a year older overnight would make me wiser and happier and more at ease and at peace with myself. All silly notions, I know, but the heart simply can't stop longing for certain things with stubborn desperation.
Perhaps I should take Rumi's words to heart – "What you seek is seeking you" – and cease to seek those illusory answers and simply accept that some questions were perhaps never meant to be asked in the first place.
As Rumi said, "Sell your cleverness and purchase bewilderment."
So 42 years since the day I was born, I choose to drop all questions and stop seeking answers, and instead turn to simply seeing and accepting what is and admiring and relishing it all.