Last week, while negotiating with the increased number of birthday candles on my cake, I thought about the strange architecture of anniversaries.
Birthdays are curious markers; they’re the moments we pause to audit the “provisional drafts” of our lives, measuring who we were against who we are becoming.
But, while the world often expects a celebration of the external — the party, the gifts, and the noise — I lean towards the quieter, more enduring ritual of the private record.
For years, my go-to gift for milestones hasn’t been chocolate or balloons, but notebooks.
I’ve given them in all shapes and sizes — sometimes leather-bound and fancy, often not.
Once, I even tore the unused pages from an old journal of my own, wrapped them in tissue paper, and gave them to a colleague as a token of appreciation. It was cherished far more than vouchers or bath salts.
I keep a similar treasure next to my bed, gifted to me years ago by a friend in dire financial straits.
She had cleared out the spoiled pages of a used notebook, wiped down the cover, and penned a poem on the first blank page about keeping track of dreams, both real and imagined.
It’s my favourite journal. It likely cost less than a cup of coffee, but what it gave me in terms of “unquantifiable” value is immense.
Whether we use them to write, doodle, or simply hold our “blushing secrets,” journals are essential scaffolding for the soul.
I record the “small stuff” — personal reflections, a striking quote, or a snippet of conversation overheard at the supermarket.
We often don’t realise how these fragments eventually add up to make sense of the bigger picture.
This personal obsession with the written word reminds me of a community initiative where people were asked to share their favourite lines from literature. The results were astounding.
It turns out that what we crave most are words that uplift us and trigger an innate appreciation for nature, beauty, and love.
Words are simply thoughts taken out of mouths and placed on a page, yet they have the absolute power to shift a mood or, in the right hands, stop a war.
In reviewing lists of the world’s most beloved quotes, I’ve noticed a telling pattern: people rarely choose to immortalise descriptions of aggression, rivalry or jealousy.
Instead, we want to gape at the mysteries of a life lived wildly and colourfully.
We gravitate towards sentiments like Khaled Hosseini’s observation in And the Mountains Echoed: “Beauty is an enormous, unmerited gift given randomly, stupidly.”
Or JD Salinger’s evocative line: “She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together.”
We also want to know that we’ve done something useful with our time, often fearing the regret of lives lived fearfully.
Alongside food, shelter, and arms to love us, we need words to shape the infinite potential of who we may become.
A story of courage can be the very difference between despair and hope for someone navigating adversity.
