Another Year
Another birthday has rolled by. Another day in which my age is exactly so many years, and not x years, x months, and x days. Each day is really a new anniversary of our being.
In Spain birthdays weren't celebrated as much as saints' days were. It used to be once, that everyone was named for a saint or someone in the Bible. Scratch the old calendars deep enough, and you'll probably even find a Saint Ezekiel or Saint Sarah. People used to celebrate their name days. During the fifties and sixties it became the norm that almost every girl had Maria woven into their name and almost every boy had José. So the saint's day of most men was Saint Joseph's day, March 19th. And the women's was the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, August 15th. Those whose name didn't happen to have a saint attached to it, (the least) celebrated their name day on All Saint's Day. Those that had compound names had two or more days of celebration (me).
But then the dictatorship disappeared and the laws regulating the naming of babies changed. Foreign names were introduced. Families were hard put to find a saint even in the most ancient of saints' days calendars. So birthdays were celebrated more often than name days. And the tradition of celebrating our saint's day has lost to birthday bashes.
It doesn't really matter to me. I've never made a big production of celebrating my birthday. A cake, a few candles, and family are all I usually have. I had a few birthday parties when I was very young, but they stayed in my childhood. I don't need a party.
Over the years I've noticed that I have changed. Physically, definitely. I have gone from being chubby, to being normal sized, to being stout again. I never had much physical agility and now I have even less. Parts of my body tend to hurt in ways they never did before if I try to push myself. Intellectually, I have difficulty delving deeply into a subject to learn it. Though that is through lack of practice. I'm sure that if I make myself sit down every day and push myself hard enough, that I will regain that ability. The brain is a lot like a muscle and needs exercise. Hopefully, I have gained some wisdom with the years. I've also become more cynical of mankind and of its ability to rise above base human nature. When I look back at history and then look at the news, it seems we have not progressed as a species. My daughter berates me, and says that if everyone were to think like me, that nothing would change for the better. Yes and no. You can accept that people tend to fall back on their instincts, and yet fight to right wrongs, knowing that change comes only with the millennia, and not overnight. But it sometimes becomes discouraging.
One thing I have learned, is that each age has its pleasures. The trick to live without wishing you were still back in your youth is to appreciate each pleasure as it arrives, knowing that it arrives when you can best enjoy it. And even if your dreams aren't fulfilled, part of the pleasure is in dreaming them and trying to make them work. Because life would be very boring and dull without any dreams.
In Spain birthdays weren't celebrated as much as saints' days were. It used to be once, that everyone was named for a saint or someone in the Bible. Scratch the old calendars deep enough, and you'll probably even find a Saint Ezekiel or Saint Sarah. People used to celebrate their name days. During the fifties and sixties it became the norm that almost every girl had Maria woven into their name and almost every boy had José. So the saint's day of most men was Saint Joseph's day, March 19th. And the women's was the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, August 15th. Those whose name didn't happen to have a saint attached to it, (the least) celebrated their name day on All Saint's Day. Those that had compound names had two or more days of celebration (me).
But then the dictatorship disappeared and the laws regulating the naming of babies changed. Foreign names were introduced. Families were hard put to find a saint even in the most ancient of saints' days calendars. So birthdays were celebrated more often than name days. And the tradition of celebrating our saint's day has lost to birthday bashes.
It doesn't really matter to me. I've never made a big production of celebrating my birthday. A cake, a few candles, and family are all I usually have. I had a few birthday parties when I was very young, but they stayed in my childhood. I don't need a party.
Over the years I've noticed that I have changed. Physically, definitely. I have gone from being chubby, to being normal sized, to being stout again. I never had much physical agility and now I have even less. Parts of my body tend to hurt in ways they never did before if I try to push myself. Intellectually, I have difficulty delving deeply into a subject to learn it. Though that is through lack of practice. I'm sure that if I make myself sit down every day and push myself hard enough, that I will regain that ability. The brain is a lot like a muscle and needs exercise. Hopefully, I have gained some wisdom with the years. I've also become more cynical of mankind and of its ability to rise above base human nature. When I look back at history and then look at the news, it seems we have not progressed as a species. My daughter berates me, and says that if everyone were to think like me, that nothing would change for the better. Yes and no. You can accept that people tend to fall back on their instincts, and yet fight to right wrongs, knowing that change comes only with the millennia, and not overnight. But it sometimes becomes discouraging.
One thing I have learned, is that each age has its pleasures. The trick to live without wishing you were still back in your youth is to appreciate each pleasure as it arrives, knowing that it arrives when you can best enjoy it. And even if your dreams aren't fulfilled, part of the pleasure is in dreaming them and trying to make them work. Because life would be very boring and dull without any dreams.
I have found the ageing process fascinating and even with problems life gets better and better.
ReplyDeleteBecause we understand better what is important and what isn't. And we learn to stop and smell the roses. And they can be so beautiful!
ReplyDelete