The coming existential crisis

Have I mentioned I’m turning 40 this year? I’m turning 40 this year.

I have friends who are sailing through this with nary a breakdown. It is, they say, fine:

  • Time is a continuum
  • You’re only one day older than you were yesterday
  • The past is done and the future hasn’t happened yet so all you can do is enjoy now

All of this is true and indeed wise but, you see, that’s about them and it’s me who’s turning 40. I am.

When I was a kid I read a lot about the history of magic and I learnt that Robert Houdin, the father of modern magic and the magician’s magician, didn’t start until he was 40. I have always remembered this. No matter what happened, I thought, I could always change direction in the far distant future and become the father of modern magic.

But that’s now, guys, it’s now. I don’t even know what needs birthing.

Something needs to happen, though. There is a tickle at the back of my mind that won’t go away. I don’t know what it is yet. But I feel like it’s kicking for the surface.

While I await existential enlightenment, the obvious backup plans are:

  • Dog
  • Curl up in a ball and await the Singularity
  • Van life

Or some combination of the above. I’d better get ready.