I don’t celebrate my own birthdays. And given the choice, I wouldn’t celebrate another’s either. I realise that in general – such a behaviour is considered mean and borderline asocial. But that is a stark under-interpretation of something that on the surface just looks plain old rude to most. Let me try to explain.

Over the years I’ve noticed that someone who refuses, or feels discomfort in joining others in their ceremonies, is often branded with an amateur diagnosis. More often than not – of Asperger or autistic variety. And so I’ve given the situation a lot of thought. After all, I’m not a hermit (even if I often wish I were) as the situation arises fairly often – even in an average life like mine. And more often than not, I tend to be in dead centre of whatever clash is about to take place: A refused wedding invitation, a skipped birthday party – a ceremonious gathering of some sort or other – foregone; to potentially devastating social, or relational effect.

To be able to answer what it is that causes us (me) discomfort, or blankly refuse to take part in a social ceremony, perhaps we need to reverse the question and ask, “What is it that makes us accept it?”.

And what might that be, exactly? A good place as any to start with would be tradition. Ceremonies of many kinds are often rooted in culture. The kind of culture that serves to bond people (or enslave, given your point of view) to one another. The sort that establishes group dynamics and hierarchy. The sort that established an individuals brand value as opposed his fellows, if we’re to speak in modern terms. And we should – because there is no tradition left in the modern world (read that as understood as the northern hemisphere) that has gone unscathed through time. With each new day, the population of Terra states its independence from culture, tradition and heritage alike – as well as whatever historical bonds tie us to our ancestors. I’ve written about why, and how – previously. Have a look if you’re interested (I’d skip it, you don’t need it to follow this text and moreover, its more than vaguely preaching).

So – it seems we have no need of ceremonies from a purely traditional, or cultural standpoint. Yet, the church calendar still rules our time – and it is certainly by far the most popular way to mark the milestones in life. When confronted why irreligious (or just too noncommittal to even “believe”) people opt to marry in church they often state the theatrics as the cause (presumably while trying to make the vicar forgo, “the god part”). The church, putting it simply, still has a monopoly on our grand ceremonies.

There are alternatives. There is the magistrate wedding. Indeed a dreary and administrative affair. Also, we have several – amusing, but utterly ridiculous new age-varieties. Finally there are humanist equivalents to whatever ceremony the church has come up with. Perhaps save the resurrection of Christ. The humanists seem to have taken whatever an actual celebration is and brought it down from the heavens to where they say it belongs – with the individual human.

However, the humanist credo doesn’t hold up to anything but a superficial glance. Scratch the surface, do away with the rationale, the (often faulty) logic, the sickening claims to reason (often expressed unreasonably), and you still have the same old proverbial junk, albeit neatly gift wrapped into a shiny new ceremony.

Where does that place us in the search for the answer to the aforementioned question: “What is it that makes you accept an invitation to a social function?”

Whatever hue a ceremony might have – be it humanist, christian or flower power, and whatever purpose of social dynamic –  it is surely there to mark a milestone in the life of a individual. But why accept the formulaic once-a-year pattern? What significance is there to a birthday? What, exactly – makes that one particular day better, or worse, than another – of your own free choice? The answer is nothing at all. It is a convenient way of pigeonholing your years, achievements, ambitions. To, under cover of a birthday cake, make you smaller than the sum of your parts. I have no wish to subject myself to this kind of treatment – and I feel awkward when I have to participate in it for someone else.

Finally, I understood what makes me uncomfortable at social functions. It is a paradox. We’re never so self-effacing as we are at the times when we’re supposed to be celebrated. At your 18th birthday, you’re supposed to receive the key to adulthood (did you?). At 30 you’re supposed to be successful (are you?) and at 40 everyone will want to know why you’re still not married or why you’re just wrapping up your second divorce (and how did that question make you feel?). At 50, your guests will start to sum up your life like it was almost over in spite the fact that it perhaps hardly has begun (which is it?). In a nutshell: The celebrations that are supposed to elevate us in our ego,  or as members of a community – in reality serve no other purpose other than to erase or diminish us as individuals.

Celebrate whatever you wish, whenever you wish, with whoever you wish – and if you’re fortunate and have the means - where ever you wish. If we are to properly break with tradition in the manner suggested by modern society, we should give this careful thought. Not simply lick the shop windows of Christianity by having church weddings or christening children into a faith we have no intention what so ever in following. The latter is, by the way, highly disrespectful of both the self and the entire christian community (whatever you may think of it, that is not the point). Christening a child in a church without faith proves nothing except that your principles are those of an inchworm. Perhaps less, as an inchworm is not likely to invite guests into his charade, forcing them to playact as well. Or worse, an inchworm will not commit its child to a faith the child has not itself chosen. Consider this before you take up the game of social pseudo-traditions on part of your offspring.

In my world, I’d celebrate whatever I wish in the manner suggested above – at times that would be suitable to me and whatever guests would care to join me. Of their own volition, not as a part of a social must – with the threat of labelling by way of diagnosis in the event that they care not to. I’d ask no gifts (and mean it). I’d ask no honorary speeches (such as those painfully endured by wedding guests world wide), or spoken obituaries (as inflated to suit the family of the deceased). I’d ask guests to be what they are and perhaps, if they wish it – to accept me as I, in turn, am. Without the necessity to underscore social function, status, hierarchy or size of current dwelling, bank account – or cock. Simply be there and whatever you are, nothing is expected of you.

A lot is expected of guests in social functions and ceremonies. It may not look it, but break down the details and you will see a planning so careful its stifling. And it is plain wrong.

I’d propose, if it were up to me – that people set their own milestones and act accordingly. Perhaps you’re 18th birthday would occur when you’re 45. Perhaps at 15. Or never. Perhaps your marriage ceremony will take place on a rainy afternoon in Zürich, just after you crossed the lake, hand in hand walking the secret garden with your lover. You stop and give each other a look, perhaps a kiss – and you realise – that both in fact and for all intents and purposes – you just married. And then perhaps your funeral – might never take place. And your name-giving; the product of the first time you did something worth while. Like fell in love. Or saved the life of a cat. Or earned your first million bucks. You choose.

All you need for this is to realise that there are no deadlines, save a final one – and there are no real points of access – save the first one (and even those two are subject to debate from a strictly quantum point of view). Accidents, good or bad – happen – and they are no tragedy and in the end no cause for customary celebration or mourning. They simply happen. They are stateless. Like the light, they just happen.

Nei varchi di luce.