Candle Mathematics

Age is a curious thing. It is one of the first things children want to know about each other when they meet and is still a common query between us as adults. I always find it fascinating to note how often newspaper and magazine articles quote the age of the people they are describing. It is rare that a media article will omit the total amount of years a person has been alive, particularly in the case of celebrities. As if somehow it provides a clearer viewpoint of the section of life the person has been reached, or even a tiny clue as to why they are in the situation that the article describes.

How old are you?

Tomorrow I will have been alive for 26 years. I was actually almost a month late being born, and so my date of birth should have been a little earlier than May 2^nd. By all predictions, I should have arrived on April 6^th. As has proved typical, I took my time to choose exactly the right moment. Weighing in at 12 pounds I was the heaviest baby that Slough’s Wexham Park Hospital had delivered to date. With a mass of black hair and rather comically entirely filling the plastic hospital baby cot provided, I drew rather a lot of of attention. So much so, that eventually the nurses drew the curtains protectively around my mother and I to protect us from staring eyes and journalist enquiries. Rather ironic in reflection of the career I would pursue in adulthood!

As a teenager, age seemed so very important. At 16, we would be able to buy cigarettes. At 17, we would be allowed behind a wheel. Every birthday was vital. The golden age of 18 seemed like a destination. Enchantingly, it would be a time when we would legally be allowed into the clubs we were already sneaking into. 18 seemed like the age of freedom wherein we could be whoever we wanted and go where we wished without constraint. At that age, I had no concept of what freedom truly meant. To my friends and I, it seemed as if the world became unlocked as soon as we were legal adults. I had no idea.

Past 18, ages began to blur as they still do for most of us. I began to realize that in the adult world it mattered less what your birth dates were and more what you were doing with the time you had been allotted. In a world of social media, we are reminded daily how our peer groups are doing, what they’re doing, and how they’re doing it. Every day, a birthday reminder inevitably pops up on our screens informing us who is the latest to add another year to their age. “Colin is 29 today! Wish him a Happy Birthday!” It is a curious and often wonderful thing, social media. But it is also a very effective utensil for self-doubting comparisons. ‘When I was that age I didn’t have a house yet’ or ‘I’m past her age and I’m still not in a serious relationship’ or ‘I went to school with him, and now look what he’s doing!’ And on it goes. The seeds of doubt watered and encouraged.

I spent most of my time as a child dreaming of what I might later become in life. My teenage years became a rush to ‘find’ something to do with my life before it somehow became too late. What did you dream of being?

Now I am to be 26 years old. I live in hotels, with no fixed address as we tour the American states as a circus company. I dance, write, photograph and draw every day that I can. I cook on a plug in griddle pan and with a microwave. I live out of a suitcase. The identifiers and possessions of my past are long gone. My name has been changed, my location has altered, and my mindset fixed. I am limited on space, yet I can stretch my limbs and my mind further than ever before, surrounded by the creative and loving positivity of my circus family and my family and friends beyond this environment. For this, I am unbelievably grateful.

I do not believe anyone ‘should’ be anything by any particular age. People do amazing things at all kinds of ages and differing points in their lives! I feel it matters far more what experiences the person has found and seen, and what they have decided to do with their individual circumstances. There are examples of this all around us - if we can take the time to see them.

Fundamentally, there will never be an age where everything becomes ‘alright’. This, at 25 years and 364 days old, is what I now realize. I appreciate now that there will never be an all changing moment of blowing out candles where I am automatically wiser, more protected, safer, freer or more able to live a better life than the last moment I was in. I cannot look ahead to the future for my answers; I can only enjoy each as they pass to the best of my abilities. This is all we can do.

Who knows where I might be when I turn 27! Last year I was turning 25 in Paris, having ‘Liberte’ (painfully!) tattooed upon my wrist to remind me of my journey whenever I might lose my way. As I write, sitting in the US in reflection of the past year, I can honestly say that I have no idea where I might be by next year. But I know that my tattoo will not fade from my wrist. Or the belief that lies behind it.

For now, these are riches enough.

Helen Victoria.

X.