Perfect

I had a nice birthday. Lunch with my Mom, a pizza party my boyfriend and his kids planned, and homemade cupcakes from a friend. It was nice. It's funny: it seems like the older you get, the less birthdays mean; when in fact, it should be the opposite. I mean, who cares if you make it to 23? Good for you! But 41?! And you're still here? If not by luck, then by choice, no less? Now, that's cause for celebration! You've crossed the threshold into, "scary milestones" land: mammograms and work-related-ageism, grocery baggers calling you "Ma'am" and a potential pregnancy considered "high risk". Pre-40 something milestones were fun! Getting a driver's license, voting, drinking in bars ... even renting a car! Now it's all about probing orifices and night sweats!
But my "birthday weekend", as my boyfriend calls it, concluded today with the most kind of celebrations. We attended a very special yoga class at the Dharma center I frequent. The yoga was referred to as "resting yoga" and included lying down on the floor for about 50 minutes. The instructor led us through moments of awareness to our bodies and parts of our bodies ... always insisting, "there is no goal, there is nowhere to be right now, there is no right or wrong". And in a radical statement, I learned today that it's not only okay, but encouraged in meditation to say to myself, "I am Perfect." The class posed the question, "What if?" What if I was perfect just the way I am? What if? Who would I be? What would I do? How would that feel? I've always been afraid to find out, but today, out loud, I made a promise to myself: I am not going to spend the next 4o years of my life judging and rejecting myself the way I did for the first 40. Because I am Perfect.