Birthday Words

I’ve always loved birthdays. And because my mind remembers little details such as birthday dates, I’m usually able to remember the most important ones – and I like to.

If you know me, you know how positive I am and it just makes sense for me to be excited about birthdays: how much more lively and happy than a birthday can you get? It seems like a little thing, it’s just one person’s special day, one might say, but let’s think about it for a second (okay, maybe a little more). Is it really that little?

A birthday means life. A birthday means that x years ago, you made someone’s day, maybe two people’s days, probably more people’s days, just because you took your birth breath, your first cry, and were on your way to doing your first everything. X years ago, on that very same day, you made people happy. You came into the world. Another human life came into this world, and it was a miracle.

Or maybe you didn’t make anyone happy, which is probably a lie, but let’s say you didn’t. You cannot just deny the fact that x years ago, you came into this world, and it was a miracle. The union of two people allowed for you to be created. Flesh and flesh made more flesh, mind and mind made more mind, and that’s you. A human life made out of other human lives.

You are life. And your birthday needs to be celebrated for this very reason.


My sister and I for her 16th birthday. She’s about to blow candles on her “Merveilleux“, a delicious cake that we used to have at home every time one of us in the house would turn a year older until I moved out.

Another important reason why I love birthdays is because on these particular days, people always always always show how kind and thoughtful they can be. Birthdays are filled with love, laughter and positivity.

I’ve received messages and calls from 5 different continents, I received mate from Argentina, a card from France, jasmine tea from China, virtual and real hugs and kisses from all over Europe and each little gift I was given all contained at least one thing: love.

Love. On all five continents, in all hearts, there’s kindness and love. People willingly take a few minutes, maybe even just seconds (3″ to click on the link given by Facebook to post a 3-word message that will take 10″ to write, and 1″ to move the cursor and press enter) to wish someone else a happy birthday, or say congratulations, or maybe something else, depending on the language used by and the personality of the sender.

Maybe there’s Facebook, you’ll say. Maybe it’s just because it’s there and so people click the button. And maybe they don’t know you but write to you either way because it’s there. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not talking about motivations. Whatever your reason for writing a birthday message, for writing anything positive, any good thought – what matters is the intention. People clicked on the link Facebook gave them. People can click. People can write good things. People can do acts of kindness.

It warms my heart – not because people thought of me specifically, but because people can think of others and take time for others. Kindness. Love.

Kindness. Love. If I have a drink tonight, I’ll raise my glass to humanity, and to kindness and to love.


Love and All His Friends

Feelings are crazy, you see. I’d like to get a better insight into them someday, although I don’t think that’s ever going to be possible. They’re too deep, too entwined in between each other sometimes, and they might be better left blurry, somehow.

Sometimes, I feel I fall in love everyday. Because I believe love is not a word that should be used for people only, that is for family members, or friends, or your chosen one.
Sometimes, in fact, I feel I fall in love with places, moments, atmospheres, objects, smells, tastes. Sometimes, they’re only things I like; but if I add passion to this feeling, instead of using sensibility, when I can’t possibly do without them, I wonder. I feel I truly am in love.
I feel that’s the meaning of love: when one loves something or someone excessively or unreasonably; too much, too fast, hastily, too deep, too often, with too much curiosity, and unthinkingly.

It happens to me, sometimes. I fall in love with chocolate, that you can only and truly taste at the first bite; with the sound cats make when they’re purring; or when the sky shows a whole range of blues in the evening; with the cold that comes at the end of summer when leaves turn orange and yellow. I fall for the smell of freshly baked bread; for the smile of kids when they’re playing impatiently in the queue at the supermarket; for the sound of silence, that you can oh hardly ever hear.

Love — this feeling we make complicated when the only thing we should do is listen to it. This feeling we try oh so many times to explain with words, when it should be left a feeling and a feeling only. This thing that makes us run unbelievable fast, sing out loud on the street, burst out laughing for no apparent reason; this thing that gives us this special energy we need to use before exploding.

Call me naive, weird, oversensitive, cheesy or other ugly words human beings created to make themselves believe we had to be down-to-earth and identical people; but what about embracing what’s within?