Birthday Wishes

unkempt corners, forfeit races, and compassion

Today is my birthday, which means little besides the fact that I finally have good reasons to indulge in the little treats and the beverage trifecta I already grant myself daily.

But today, I’m thinking about my dreams of what could be. The tiny wishes that nag at me, that feel in contradiction to the world we sometimes live in, but the ones that persist nevertheless.

And so this morning, I’m sharing these wishes— the ones that aren’t just for me but are also for you— for us and the world we will someday create.

I wish for you to feel deeply, to expand boundlessly, to turn into water and pour yourself into a clear glass and examine all the angles and the way the bubbles rise and fall, and the way the light hits your soul. To drink it in and realize it is good, and you are good. And to realize that you’ve lived so long with so little compassion and to let that maybe long-withheld compassion quench a thirst you never knew you carried.

I wish for you to rediscover those abandoned corners of yourself— the weird, unkempt ones that must be put away before the company arrives. The ones that give you delight and remind you of a home that you may no longer know. And the privilege to learn what you like and the courage to learn what you don’t, and to put away all those things you pretended to love in some projection you’ve curated of yourself. And for what remains to be authentically you.

I wish for you to forfeit the races you never even wanted to run in the first place. The ones that measure your goodness or your worth like it can be contained within manmade metrics. For you to rip off the bib, step off the path, and ask yourself: What do I truly want? And when you know, to have the strength to chase it wildly.

I wish for you to release yourself from certainty— from the need for neat answers and tied bows. And that you grant yourself the permission to ask questions that have no end. And you follow those questions down spindly curves, winding like the game of Chutes and Ladders you play with your child, and infinite like a CVS receipt. And then you stare in awe at the grandeur of the cosmos and all the things we’ll never understand, and then you chuckle to yourself, because you see that we are just lucky to know what its like to fill our lungs with air.

I wish for you to delight, not because the world is infinitely good and kind, but because you deserve to live in a world that brims with wonder. That you let yourself feel those pangs of sentimentality. You watch as a child rescues a stray worm from the sidewalk and places it back in the dirt. And the person who stalls in front of you because the clouds reminded them of the way their mom’s curls ballooned when brushed. And the lady who mutters to herself in the median, but then looks at you clear-eyed and bold and says, “Have a good day. I love you.”

I wish for you to realize you are not alone, even if it can feel very much that way at times, but that you are part of a collective, and that collective includes the roaring waves and the wren who perches outside your front door. And that you are part of a relationship with the trees and the marigolds and the bumblebees, whether you realize it or not.

And I wish for you to know, on your worst days— even when it feels like it has all gone to shit— that there are swaths of people who believe in a world that holds empathy and holds space for the tender parts of your soul. And that you find those people and together, you remember that dream you all had of a world that could be, and you laugh because somehow, now that you are together, that world is coming to life.

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What are your wishes?