I turn 40 in less than a week. Compared to some other folk I know who’ve already topped that proverbial hill, I think I’m rather blasé about hitting the big 4-O. Still it’s a pretty ponderous milestone for anyone and has me thinking a lot about how my life’s turned out.
So far so good really. Of course, I wish I was making a lot more money and that my “career” was a little further along. And I would be significantly happier if I could provide more for my girlfriend, family, close friends and a few worthy causes. But generally speaking, I’m quite content with how everything seems to be going. I love where I live, I love whom I’m living with and, most of the time, I really love what I’m doing. I reckon I’m extremely lucky.
In many ways life is so much more fulfilling than I ever could have imagined. Maybe I’ve set the bar too low? Finding the front seat at the top of a double decker bus still gives me a bit of a thrill.
However, life has hardly played out as I imagined it would have when I was a little kid (I’m not a pinball wizard living in a bachelor pad above a pizzeria/arcade nor was I ever) … or as I suffered through my teenage years (I haven’t hitchhiked in ages or put a bottle of peroxide anywhere near my dwindling head o’ hair and sadly I rarely play my guitar these days). In fact, life isn’t even like I imagined it would be two years ago. It’s actually way more wonderful than I ever could have guessed.
Anyway, 40 years of living leads to at least a little bit of wisdom accumulated. The gist of it all seems to be the following: Less is often more; hype is usually just that: and doing what you enjoy best is probably what you should be doing anyway. Indulge me as I share some lessons learned over four decades of me.
The happiest people I’ve ever met live in extreme poverty. Those same people are also the ones with the most integrity. That said, a few of the most modest and unassuming people I know are also ridiculously wealthy and financially successful.
Some of the best meals I’ve had have been served on paper plates, in paper bags or in cardboard boxes. Please note that I only said some. The vast majority of ‘best’ meals I’ve eaten have been made by family or friends. And I’ve yet to find many foods that are as satisfying as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
A bed that costs several thousand pounds isn’t all that more comfortable than beds worth only a few hundred quid.
There’s a fine line between being a hack and living a poetic life.
Getting paid to write about whatever the hell I want feels like a dream come true.
I’ll stop here but could ramble on and on. What about you? Got any smart stuff to share?