This past week, my favorite person turned fifty years old. This is a momentous occasion for our family, but especially for me, who’s been waiting for him to catch up and join the Fifty Club since September.
We both have busy work lives, though our busyness manifests differently. He’s a road warrior who, by the end of July, will have been to seven countries in three months. He doesn’t think much of it; he just answers the call. I’m busy in the way that many entrepreneurs are – strategizing in my sleep, constantly counting costs and opportunities, enhancing intellectual property so the company can grow without every dollar being made by my hand…iterating until I hit a wall. Then, getting up, dusting myself off, and beginning again.
In both hands, we hold the immense energy that comes with meaningful work and the wear brought on by relentless pursuit. We are innately aspirational. We see what’s possible, in work and in life, and move one puzzle piece at a time until the picture becomes clear. When it comes to the work we’ve chosen to do in the world, we do not settle. There’s sufficiency and there’s excellence—the first of which does not compute. This is not to suggest we think we’re better than anyone else. It is, however, an admission that greatness is the bar and, consciously or unconsciously, we seem to raise it every year.
There’s nothing wrong with aspiring for greatness or enjoying the benefits that come along with it. But here’s what I know: even the most driven among us must stop the train sometimes. We must forcefully resist the rising expectations that accompany achievement, including our own lists and plans and check boxes. This purposeful pause makes way for us to notice what matters, and what matters is who’s with us and around us. And whether we’re still heading in the direction we meant to go when we got on the train in the first place.
I’d been planning a series of birthday shenanigans for months, as John did for me last year. Some of his favorite people dropped everything to show up for him. They came from Boston and Atlanta and Houston and Fort Lauderdale and Charlotte and Chicago and Los Angeles. We ate good food, listened to live music, told familiar stories, played silly games, learned the latest line dances. We celebrated his place in our lives and in our hearts. And, we remembered why we gather.
We gather to feel human. To take deep breaths. To see ourselves in each other. Because when we’re with people we love and who love us, we are always enough. We want for less, because we realize—in each smile and hug and genuine expression of care—how much we already have.
This was the greatest gift of my favorite person’s 50th birthday celebration. The remembering. And the gratitude that runs in, around, and through it.
Tara Jaye Frank