As children they ask us “what” we want to be when we grow up. But they never ask “who” we want to be. The priority is always on the basis of the profession, no one cares much about what kind of character we will take on. Or is there something else I have not considered? Do they think this way because they know that our character will change periodically? No, no, they can’t have thought that far ahead.
At first I wanted to be an archaeologist. They told me that although my country was quite famous in that field, there was no money in it, so I gave up. “In that case I’ll be an astronaut,” I said. “OK, don’t make such a big deal out of it,” they said, leaving my enthusiasm in the dust. I said, “Well, I’ll be a rubbish collector, I’ll be angry at people who throw rubbish on the ground.” They looked at me to see if I was joking. “Just a kid,” they said, they didn’t care. “You ask me this and you don’t accept anything, you adults! Why did you ask me then?” I couldn’t say, I was a naive child and I was powerless.
Now I am neither far nor near, I am just over thirty years old. I am neither an archaeologist, nor an astronaut, nor a rubbish collector. Moreover, I have just realised that in order to be any of these things, I must first be an individual. I want to be “good” first. Honest, peaceful, healthy and happy. I want to use my time and my years not for a career, but for the development of my character. This turning point in my life, my thirtieth year, reminds me of this.
I say turning point because it is an undeniable fact that almost every decade has a completely different place in human life. I think a sentence like “If you had told me I would be doing this ten years later, I would never have thought of it,” would apply to any turning point. In other words, my mind, which is partly more mature than it was ten years ago, taught me this, I didn’t have to think about it ten years later. Wherever I am, whoever I am with, whatever I am doing, whatever I am working on, I will be a completely different person.
Thirty years reminded me that it is the moment that matters, not after or before. But the strange thing is that it’s an idea we can never get into our heads, we have a hard time with it. And yet it is normal, human. So just knowing it is enough. When I am forty, I will probably talk again about the beauty of living in the moment. Then my “unsuccessful” memories of my thirties, when I could not stay in the moment, will be reflected in my mind. But when that time comes, I think I will fully realise that none of them will be as unsuccessful as I thought.
Thirty years have shown me that, but they have not yet taught me that. Not to think one-dimensionally in most situations… That takes years of experience. Let that be the subject of forty.
We make plans in life. We don’t care how many of them come true, we just keep on hoping and making them. The funny thing is that it is often not clear which one will come true and when. Before you know it, you realise one that was never in your expectations. Being thirty years old have been like that for me. That sounds strange, doesn’t it? I say this because when I was little I never thought I would “grow old”. I always said to myself, “I wonder if I will be thirty or forty one day.” Maybe it’s childish, I don’t know, but I still think the same thing about being forty. I know I’ll get there if I don’t have any mishaps, but I can’t imagine it.
Thirty years old reminded me that there is something special about not being able to imagine such moments. It is because it is total “chaos”, total uncertainty. There is no point in looking ahead, the last thirty years have taught me, just as there is no point in looking back at the “organised” past. To unravel the tangled threads, you have to know where to start.
Thirty years have taught me where to be quiet and where to be bold. To be honest, assertiveness has always been a thorn in my side. But I don’t care, I live my life as it comes. Every now and then, when I feel like it, I get up and take a few steps. Until my steps come to an end.
Thirty years reminded me that there is an end to the road. There’s a point where we cross the finish line. But I think it’s a bit far away and hard to see. It’s a bit blurred. We have the chance to look at it from such an angle that we cannot fully grasp it. Then there are moments when there is no point in running around. There is also the beauty of recognising where we are and building our personality here.
They say, I don’t know how true it is, that the thirties are the most productive years of a person’s life. I don’t care, because I have no other goal than to try to enjoy my humanity as much as possible. I don’t care about society’s judgments, sexist obligations, the “necessities” of life. It is difficult, but if I play my cards well, I have the game. But what if the cards are not always “good”?
We have come full circle to the question of character. There are only two things we do consciously or unconsciously in every moment, every turn, every effort and every feeling of life. Aging and building a character. It seems to me that everyone in the world is quite good and busy at ageing! So good, in fact, that they don’t even seem to find the time to do the other.
Thirty years have taught me this: one day we will reach an age we never expected, but will our character be the same?
“I’m the commander once again, my time is anew
Spinning the universe’s wheel, on a different avenue
I looked right, I looked left, what to do with this crew
Insists on ‘me,’ says the person, forevermore, I pursue
“Haven’t you reached anywhere yet, still at thirty?” they cry
Those hypocrites amazed, questioning why
My path is long, let it be, no need to comply
May my blind eyes not see my final line, let time fly”
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