At 12:56p exactly, it struck me. A seemingly foreign confirmation: I am rich.
Not in the Capitalistic sense of course. For all the signs pointing to easy money for smart, male, white, attractive people – I’ve yet to reach monetary abundance. There are many reasons for this. Existential pondering, too many hobbies to count…
I admit, I need to be dollars rich, because I love for life to be beautiful. Things, cars, spaces, experiences. I prefer to keep the speed and abrasive sound of mainstream society out, so the beau ideal of life can gently simmer to the top.
Be careful not to confuse beauty with perfection, a social construct used to inflate expectations and dampen gratitude. I’ve begun to see the word as more synonymous with factitious than mirific.
The last two days’ activities and feelings have reduced to a single concentrate, and I knew I had to write about it. I was, and will continue to be, very rich.
For my birthday, I didn’t receive any cards in the mail. For an avid USPS customer, this was a little dumbfounding. Surely one of my friends would have thought ahead?
But the sting subsided, and I began to see my good fortune.
My mom, who is in duel with advanced cancer, still made me a cake. She also framed a picture of us – one where we exhibit eerie resemblance – for me to hang. She also gave me a modern thesaurus, which I’ve already dug into (can you tell yet?).
My dad gifted me a massage and plane ticket; the Rosenthals gave me a Cinbistro gift card. Both are in line with a matured preference for experiences over things…both from people I consider illuminati.
I spent my actual birth day with two of my most revered soul sisters (and one’s partner, who is a pleasure beyond his years too). We ate and drank our way around St. Petersburg, dodging fog and rain with no lost enthusiasm.
The night before, over wine, I did the same with two different confidants.
Throughout the day, nearly 100 people took a few minutes to reach out to me on Facebook, e-mail, or via text, to wish me a happy 27th. A handful posted #throwback or photoshopped photos, to remind me that I’ve already lived and met so many beautiful, kindred souls.
My brother gave me a salt lamp that produces negative ions, said to be natural air purifiers. He also cooked a banana cake using our overripe leftovers.
This thoughtfulness, in many forms, is a welcome contrast from the harshness of life we all encounter.
Today, I left home under a gorgeous sun. I bought delicious, healthy food (back on the monastic standards) at FitLife. Picked up my Sunday standard at TeBella, lit a new Seventh Avenue Apothecary scent.
Pisces folk, whose month just started, are known for escaping into their music, for solace and tranquility few other places can provide. I am no different, and a handful of tracks afforded that luxury for me in the near past:
Birthday by Katy Perry, Skyfall by Adele, Smile (Loverush UK remix) featuring Amanda Wilson by Sound of Soho, Swim Good by Frank Ocean, and Love & War (Danny Verde remix) by Tamar Braxton.
Taken holistically, these details pointed to a singular conclusion: that I am a very rich man. I can’t genuinely want for much, on this day after my birthday, in my 28th year.
Sure, things aren’tÂ perfect. But what does that even mean?
I possess real beauty in many forms, internal and external. I enjoy the manifold fruits from the relationship trees I have planted and cultivated over time and realizing those good fortunes gives me such gratification.
It is difficult to express.
And yet, I must try to explain it, because I think we could all benefit from such introspection, and reciprocation. Love yourself, love others.
To everyone who has ever come into my life, and let me into theirs, I love and appreciate you.
Well spoken Al! Cheers to life!
I’m so glad you had a fun and, even better, fulfilling birthday. I adore the picture of you and sweet Jane.