An Ironic Birthday Post

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Let me tell you a story about irony.

Today is my 37th birthday.

To be honest- 36 was a fucking shit show.

Obviously, 2020 hasn’t been a peach for anyone. But in addition to the mess of global events, I’ve had some pretty intense personal trauma too. Some very big, life changing, ground shaking, question-your-place-in-the-world kind of experiences.

Want to hear something crazy?

On this day last year, my birthday, I set an intention. It was this:

“I want to uplevel my life.”

I had reached a point where I was sick of myself.

Tired of all the ways I was playing small. Settling. Hiding. Staying quiet. Repeating the same exhausting patterns.

I wanted more.

Now, you see, when I set the intention for “more”, I was really hoping that it would show up in my life as happiness, excitement, money, love.

Instead, I got this steaming shit pile of a year. 2020. The messiest mess that ever messed.

Here’s where the irony comes in:

Right now, I’m happier than I ever remember being.

Weird, right?

It doesn’t make much sense. But here’s what I’ve surmised:

Here in this earth school, in this strange and mysterious life, I believe that the messes bring us the most magic.

Though we may wish to exclusively experience the high notes, our biggest and best symphonies are woven from our darkest times.

All the shit that happened to me this year sent me right into some deep self-work. Dark nights of the soul. Meditation. Lots of therapy.

I pulled up all the rugs and shone a light on the grubby stuff hiding in the corners of my heart.

It’s a work in progress.

And it’s exactly where I need to be.

I don’t know what 37 has in store for me.

But I do know that I’m on the right path. And that means that whatever I encounter- the good, the bad, the ugly- will contain inside it the seed of something meaningful.

Happy birthday to me.

Here’s to another year of mess and magic.