peregrination
___________
Robert Barlow

I turn 26 today; It’s another day of being the oldest I’ve ever be and the youngest I’ll ever be. On my run this morning I was lamenting not writing down reflections to look back on from my previous birthdays, so I decided to take some time today to do that.

Leading up to it, 25 was a big landmark for me. It marks a quarter century, 4 years out of college (life seems to be organized in 4 year segments in this time of life; 4 years of high school, 4 years of college), and the point at which my 17 year old self thought life would start doing downhill. Looking back, I attribute that now to a specific myopia of youth. Everyone around me was of a similar age, and the next group of folks I knew were well along in life; my parents, friends’ parents, professors. At the time, their lives all seemed dull and quiet, nothing like the constant social, physical and worldly excitement of myself and those I knew. At that time, everything was new and exciting to us, and I couldn’t imagine life being any other way. I think I picked 25 arbitrarily as the point where that all stopped, and I held that age in my head with that connotation for too long.

Of course, over the past few years I’ve needed to grapple with that idea. I’ll give it some merit- there’s some truth to the idea. One will only every listen to Led Zeppelin for the first time once, and it’ll likely be before 25. Most first long-term relationships and their associated firsts are begun before 25 (there’s a large contingent of the population who are married before 25!). If one is generally sedentary or stops pursing youth sports, one’s physical peak will probably be before 25.

I feel these losses of novelty- I was playing guitar the other day and lamented to my partner Maggie that there were no new major chords to play. I’ve eaten most of the major world cuisines, and I know their constituent elements of meat, grains, spices, etc. In the books I read, I know the classic story archetypes. I’ve encountered “The Hero’s Journey” more times than I can count.

I expected a closing down of the world at 25, but this past year has been the opposite. Sure, I’ve lost novelty, but I believe that this year has shown me the beginning of the paths that lie ahead of me in my life. Over the past few years I’ve chosen pursuits that I care about: My career, personal relationships, paragliding, and my physical abilities. This year in particular, I’ve been fortunate to meet and learn from folks who are much closer to mastery than I in these pursuits. I’ve taken away an understanding that the goal of mastery, excellence, being better, whatever you want to call it, is a lifelong pursuit, not something that achievable in the short term. I see the real value in working to be better at the things I care about, and I believe that this value eclipses the value of novelty lost with age.

I’ve also come to recognize that the pursuit of improvement takes the form of many, many hours of continuous, quiet effort. I’ve read Every Good Boy Does Fine, which (apart from a wonderfully witty story of youth and negotiating the world of classical musical performance) illuminates the sheer volume of time that goes into being a world class pianist. It’s hours, days, months, years upon years of practice in tiny, soundproof practice rooms in the basements. These hours are what enable the mastery to perform on the world’s largest stages, and what it takes to improve in nearly anything worth doing. To come full circle, I recognize that what I saw as “dullness” in the adults of my youth may have instead been the quiet work that goes into being a better person, often times for my benefit.

Here’s to hoping I can do the quiet work to be a better human at 26.

Few accomplishments from 25, mostly in order: