birfday

Turning 38 is a big deal, largely because that means 37-year-old Ed dies, or rather, retires. We will miss 37-year-old Ed.

We are fans of 37-year-old Ed. He continued our internal work and passed through the five-year junction of our spiritual journey, which was a large-type assignment. He entered and exited (well) the first truly happy and healthy relationship of our life, which was great. He published our first book, which was also great. He got off drugs and battled depression, which was tough. He unloaded on God several times, but not quite as disrespectfully as previously Eds did. And 37-year-old Ed was rewarded for unloading on God in this manner. We got to feel God holding us, loving us, despite our being a brat.

It was 37-year-old who came to terms with getting older and, despite enormous pressure from the little Eddies inside us, decided, at the last moment, not to get hair restoration. Living in Southern California puts weird pressure on you, ya know.

We will continue to listen to the call as we have at other points on our spiritual journey.

Like when Arnal Kennedy suggested we go celibate for a while, and we did. Like when Tamara Yates told us to write about sex and relationships and we did, but only after another close friend (thinkingtoohard) told us the same thing 8 months later. Like when Katie Morris told us to consider quitting journalism. Like when Katie Sharar predicted that the best year of our life will be when we’re 38.
Yes, we listen to the call.

So we salute our homeboy, 37-year-old Ed. You are the man. And now we turn things over to the new guy, 38-year-old Ed. Good luck, buckaroo!