I woke up thinking about birthdays and numbers. It’s not an atypical birthday reflection. Numbers are abstract symbols that, paradoxically, center and ground us—anchoring people, events, and memories in space and time.

Today is the 195th day of the year. I know this and I know that there are 170 days left this year, because I noted “195/365” in my morning pages. One more number: it’s the 29th week of the year.

I don’t need the numbers—not every day. Most of the time, I move through my routines without tallying or tracking. But when I pause and rest my thoughts on the numbers—of a moment, a date, a year—they center and ground me. They remind me to be mindful. To live this life intentionally.

Halfway Through My Life? Maybe.

A typical birthday reflection looks not just back to count up the years, but also forward—to what’s left, what matters, what we’ll make of it.

I’m way past halfway through my life. I don’t have proof—that pin will be pushed into the calendar and map when I die—but I think it’s safe to say I won’t be banging around with these bones and muscles on this earth to celebrate my 132nd birthday. So, yeah, I’m more than halfway to the finish line.

That thought grounds me. It doesn’t depress me—it awakens me. It sharpens my awareness of how I spend my minutes, my hours, my days. These numbers that mark the time I have left call me to use it well.

Numbers fix us in time and in place. My address, my GPS coordinates, my phone numbers. We also use numbers to capture who we are: our weight, our height, our birth digits, our age, social security, driver’s license, birth certificate… The numbers are abstract but they pin us to the wall of time and place. They position us relative to others, to “normal,” and to health metrics. This week, I’ll visit my eye doctor, and she’ll have numbers to describe my eyes, then she’ll apply numbers that can be shared and, like magic, the numbers will fix my eyes, bring clarity to my vision.

As I celebrate 66 years with a movie at 12:45 for $11.50, then a pedicure at 3:15 for $45, and finally dinner (those numbers are TBD because I’m not sure when we’ll arrive and what I’ll order), I’m grateful for all the numbers that improve my life and center me—for the 66 years and the 24,107 days that brought me to this moment, in this place, with these people.

Not Just a Number—But Made of Numbers

As I reflect on aging, especially on birthdays, I think about how often we bemoan numbers. We resist the idea of being “just a number.” Most of us don’t want to fathom ultimate sum of time that squeezes our days on the dash between birth and death. And we also share an aversion to being quantified, calculated, or measured. Because how can numbers capture the individual, the uniqueness?

Yet, it is our numbers that often help define our uniqueness. Even the intonations of our voices can be measured in numbers. The color of our skin, eyes, hair… all numbers. The rhythm of our heart is measured in numbers.

I’ll close this birthday reflection with this: No, I’m not “just a number.” I am many numbers and I am more than my numbers. And I don’t bemoan the numbers that identify and define me. I’m grateful because they center and ground me.

What numbers have marked or grounded your life lately? I’d love to hear your reflections in the comments.

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