Forty-nine.

I begin with gratitude.

Thank you to all who posted, called, texted, or otherwise emitted a positive vibe in my general direction for my birthday yesterday. I’m genuinely humbled to have so many lovely and interesting people in my life, regardless of how often or how rarely we get to engage directly with one another.

This is 49, then, the last year of what I’ll far too optimistically refer to as my first half-century. If 7 is a lucky number then 49, by definition, should be exponentially so.

I’ll admit it hasn’t completely started that way. Right now I’m battling the remnants of a seasonal cold and flu-type thing with chicken soup and large mugs of turmeric tea. There remains a regular cascade of headlines that remind me of the darkness in the world and the creatures currently thriving in the misery of it. And then, last Friday, the full-time freelance contract that had been a load-bearing pillar of my income since January abruptly and unceremoniously ended when the company employing me decided to eliminate my entire team, kicking us out of all platforms from orbit and offering the kind of cheerful farewell for which a ghostwritten paperback business book provides the boilerplate template in the back matter.

On that last part: We are doing okay for the moment. I have other freelance work that is helping soften the blow and am actively pursuing new avenues and options. I am doing the requisite job searches and sending applications to the opportunities that sound legitimate. I’m attending a couple job fairs this week and next. I’ve started an online certification course in UX Design to broaden my horizons. The situation is unpleasant but not altogether surprising; my team of 25 had already been whittled down from a team of approximately 60 or so in April, and we were never given any reassurance of how long they would continue the projects we were tasked to deliver. I have been soaking for so long in the viscous murk of American capitalism that the recurrence of this unfunny running gag but mildly agitates my adrenal gland.

All that said, of course: If you know or hear of something that makes you consider that I might be perfect for it, please send it my way with all speed.

And to reiterate, I have so much for which to be grateful.

The numerous family, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances who remain in my extended karass. The people I don’t know and in most cases will never know but who have been in some positive way affected by the work I’ve put into the world.

A dynamic and beautiful woman who has chosen for over half of my life to be my partner, who has weathered storms and celebrated triumphs alongside me. A brilliant and talented young man who constantly surprises and delights me with each new detail of his growing identity. A dog who prefers to spend most of her day looking for sunbeams to bathe in and most of her evening snuggling against me on the couch.

There is always new art, and there are so many mountains of existing art that I will never have enough time to climb all of them. There are opportunities to make some of my own with people whose voices and visions often leave me stunned. There are opportunities to introduce people to each other in the hopes that their collaborations will put more new beauty into the world.

There is my overall physical health for now. There is my progressively better mental health for the future.

There is the affirmation that for all of my imperfections there are evils beyond a line I will not cross. There is the ability to look at myself in a mirror and to sleep at night knowing I do not spend my days rationalizing the pain I cause and the glee I feel at causing it.

As I said, this new year of my life has begun as a bit of a mixed bag, but the inventory of items in that bag are overall deeply cherished. There is enough hope and curiosity left in me to continue another trip around our central star, circumstances willing.

So onwards I spin.