That's another rotation done

THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN

Warning - I am uncertain as to how well this post will be able to bear the weight of its own irony.

I am seventy today, hence the title. Does this mean anything? We tell ourselves it does. Us human love numbers, love trying to give significance to them. But what does 'seventy' mean? It's a measure of the number of rotations around our sun that this planet has made since I began breathing. In what possible way is that significant?

We love those rotations, don't we?  Us humans attach a lot of importance to anniversaries of events.  Even if they are just those rotations mentioned above, and, in universal terms, utterly insignificant.  But we crave meaning.  We look for significance.  We feel a need to justify our existence, for there to be 'purpose' in something.  It's the origin of all religions, many philosophies, even the selfie culture.  Trying to feel like there is a point to it all.  And, as we get older, birthdays take on new meanings, the recognition that not only has another year passed, but we are nearer to our own end.

That's not being negative, but realistic.  Our bodies let us know this.  I think I first became aware of my diminishing physical abilities in my early fifties, when I realised that people were passing me.  For most of my life, when I was on my own and walking, I would usually be the fastest, simply because that's how I walked.  Seeing myself being passed, or unable to keep up, was a window into the future.

So my body is on the downward slope, but I have no idea how steep it is going to be, or when it might suddenly fall away.  But I will still keep on looking for meaning, like everyone else, for some sense that this life I lead is in some ways useful to others.   It's one of the things that keeps us going.

What does this tell us about ourselves?  Maybe that, deep down, we recognise that insignificance in an infinite universe, and much of our lives are spent trying to counterbalance that.  In whatever ways work for us.  We need stories about the human condition, we need takes that fire our imagination.  But do we really still need to try and believe in the sky fairies?  

If I see meaning in life it's in my relationships with other humans (any cats of course).  It's trying to be a decent person, and not hurt others, not discriminate on the basis of who someone is, rather than what they say.  We are really nothing more than animated bags of atoms, but we can seem like more to others.  

So does turning seventy even matter?  (And what does 'matter' mean...?!)  No and Yes. 

No, because the ageing process isn't simply about numbers.  It's about attitude, about taking an interest, about still being a part of the society you live in.  A good retirement is as much about temperament as it is about the body.  Maybe more so. It's a freedom from the regimen of work.  I am content with my life.  I have, I feel, understood that 'enough' is an important word in my vocabulary, a word that can embody a concept for living by.  My life is more malleable, and open to personal whim, than when I was younger.  My real age isn't the number, it's what I feel on any particular day.

And Yes.  There are also some useful and/or inescapable aspects that come with the number.  In practical terms it can be cheaper to be older. My Edinburgh Rugby season ticket is cheaper, as are tickets to many cultural events.  Then there's the "age card", which is easier to play each year. If there's some physical activity to be done I can safely excuse myself and leave it to the Young Uns (my days of actually bending down to pick up soft toys in our hockey team's annual Teddy Toss are behind me).  Finally, there is, like it or not, a cultural significance.  The point of my title above.  People who know your age see you as that age, whatever that means to them. To which I say "Fuck it" - I'll be as old as my body and mind allow me feel, adapted to suit whatever favours me in the circumstances. I'm seventy now - so what?"