Mindfulness and Birthdays: Surprising Moments
The first week of May is a big birthday time for my family. My
husband's birthday is May 3rd, and my oldest daughter's is May
6th.
This convergence seemed almost too good to be true the week that
Taeko was born. We were living in rural Japan, and it was Golden
Week, a period of several national holidays that generally
coincides with the magnificent display of cherry trees in bloom.
Back in 1986, on May 3rd we celebrated Tom's 23rd birthday. May
5th is Children's Day in Japan, with colorful koi nobori (fish
flags) flying from posts in every neighborhood and children
participating in greatly anticipated festivities. How perfect
that I went into labor on that day of celebration of the joy of
childhood.
Taeko was born at 1:00 am on May 6th, and as she settled into my
arms and gazed out toward the open window on her first sunny
morning, a gentle breeze picked up a few pink cherry petals from
the tree right outside and scattered them over her beautiful
rosy face.
I will never forget it as long as I live.
As we get older, our birthdays seem to lose their luster. I know
many people who prefer to ignore their birthdays altogether.
I understand and respect the shift toward fewer gifts and less
hoopla, but I think it is a shame to ignore the opportunity for
mindful reflection. We should view birthdays as prized reminders
to connect and celebrate.
Sharing your birthday with others becomes less about unwrapping
presents and murmuring "You shouldn't have!" and more about
laughing with your loved ones about the milestones you've all
navigated over the years.
And if we do it right, there's plenty to laugh about, even when
we look back on the bumpiest of years. As the old saying goes,
having a birthday is better than the alternative!
If your own birthday doesn't inspire you, look forward to the
ones celebrated by others. Turn them into an opportunity to play
a little birthday mindfulness game.
In the spirit of finding a reason for celebrating reflection, I
called an old high school friend on his 45th birthday last
month.
He was absolutely dumbfounded. We hadn't talked in over ten
years, and our last conversation was a quick hello at a class
reunion. But I had always remembered his April 8th birthday, so
I made a round of phone calls and tracked him down, reaching him
at home as he celebrated quietly with a handful of family and
friends.
We had a delightful conversation. It made me wonder why I'd
never picked up the phone to call him in all these years. But
then, we all know the answer to that--we get busy, and even if
we do think of calling, we talk ourselves out of it because it
might be, well, weird.
Far from weird, it was heartwarming, affirming, and truly
connected us despite the fact that our friendship had faded over
25 years ago. At the end of our call, Scott said, "I will never
forget this as long as I live."
What more can anyone ask of a birthday?