The memory of me blowing the 12 candles on my cake 7 years ago still lives quite vividly in my head. Same goes for the following 13th, 14th, 15th, 16th, 17th and 18th. The only difference that separates this day of age with the preceding ones is the fact that tonight, my mind is devoid of birthday cakes, presents, candles and celebration.
The feeling is strange. To say that my heart is an entanglement of anticipation, fear and satisfaction would probably be appropriate. So much so that the confusion is driving me into overdrive, and I constantly find myself searching for answers in the place every muslim should seek tranquility from. Solitude is painful when one is young, but delightful when one is more mature :)
We grow. In many ways than one, we do. However, we do not grow absolutely, neither do we grow chronologically, no matter how much the culture of 'birthdays' always seems to disorient us from what lies deep within, ingeniously concealed from the shallow perception of you and I. Not everyone was cut from the same cloth. Therefore, some may grow one dimensionally while others benefit by developing along several different axes. This just goes to show that we only grow partially. We are relative. Now, the possibility of being mature in one sense and childish in another is evidently plausible, isn't it?
So, as we age another day and another year, never fail to continue creating ourselves endlessly. BUT bear in mind that a wise man is one who never loses his child's heart!
All in all, I daresay that the past, the present and the future all interrelate. They mingle and liaise, pulling us backwards, forwards, or they simply choose to pin us to the present.
p.s. I once heard that a man's REAL birthday is the very say Allah bestows him with the understanding of Islam. hmm..