My baby Gwendolyn celebrates her ninth birthday on tomorrow. At such, we have been celebrating. A lot!

Having dinner with my parents on last weekend (because grandmother and grandfather insisted on showering Gwendolbirdie with birthday pressies galore!), my father commented that he shares information on Gwendolyn’s eating system amongst his circle of friends. He mentioned specifically that because of Gwendolyn’s raw carnivorous diet, she exists in tip-top shape, and will likely live for a very long time. Such a flattering sentiment from my father. To be complimented on my mothering behaviours is tremendous. It is the only compliment that trumps something about my body and its looking tiny.

But my father continued! He mentioned that in addition to discussing Gwendolyn’s diet, he discusses my own, complimenting its cleanliness, its strictness, and its healthfulness. Wow! I replied, “Thank you, Daddy. I fully expect that my lifetime has the capacity of 133 years. But, because I enjoy spirits and coffee, I will accept age 103 as my maximum on Earth.”

He replied, “I don’t want to live that long.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I want to be long gone by that point. Who wants to be old?”

It got me to thinking about how I live versus how the rest of the world lives. Of how I think versus how the rest of the world thinks. For a long time, during my 17 years of disordered eating, I fought to achieve a place that I knew would make me happy. Orderliness. Cleanliness. Morality. Purity. Beauty. Thoughtfulness. Kindness. Productiveness. Because I knew what would be necessary for a lifetime of peace. Peace on the inside. Peace on the outside. I have achieved it. Yes, it shall be ever-evolving, but I am over-the-moon, from sunrise to sunset and beyond. How can a person NOT want to live this way? For a very long time? If I could live every single day until I reach age 103 in my present manner, I will be completely satisfied.

How is it possible that a human can project into the future with a state of fear? With a state of non-desire? With a state of unhappiness about getting old?

Ageing is non-negotiable. Death is non-negotiable. It will happen, some day. This is why Gwendolyn and I not only celebrate her birthday month, but we celebrate every single day of the year. How can we not? How can one not do everything in his capacity to make his life the proudest product of his works on Earth? Of her works on Earth? How can one not crave every possible moment to achieve the best from their beautiful machine of a body? Of a life?

That is all.

Happy birthday to my baby girl. I love you!

The final picture of this post was captured at Gwendolyn’s first birthday party, exactly eight years ago. We have been celebrating for a long, glorious time. Have you? Namaste.