A week before my 30th birthday, I found a piece of devotional jewelry for Hermes. For several years, I have passively (and sometimes actively) hoped that something would turn up on the Internet that seemed suitable and within my price range.
I wear a ring for Apollon as a reminder of my religious commitments and his role in my religious and spiritual life. The devotional necklace was an auspicious find due to the proximity to my birthday and the realization that I would soon embark on yet another decade. 30 felt significant, even if the significance to me was more a sigh of relief than the foreboding “you’re turning 30 soon” grins of glee from my mother when she last visited.
I’m relieved to be 30 now and done with my 20s. One of the big contrasts between library science and other professions is that ageism works the opposite way — the more gray I have in my hair (currently none), the more seriously people in my field will take me.
It makes sense to begin my 30s with devotional jewelry for Hermes when I semi-started (well, I was a year or few into …) my 20s with Apollon’s ring.
I presented the pendant to Hermes and put it on the night before I flew to Phoenix. (I was there during the heat wave. It was like a literal oven.) It remained on me throughout the conference, including on my birthday, when I took a bit of time to write, eat a gluten-free single-serve cake alone in my room, and swim a few laps in the hotel pool.
After my return, I did yoga for the first time since conference season started. Devotional jewelry with an image of the god is actually very centering during the practice. I do yoga right after work a few times a week, and after I quickly eat, I dig into my writing projects for a few hours before bed.
30 is significant for a number of reasons, and I think that this decade started well. The short story I wrote on that day was good.
Of course, not everything in this world has or will be good. The world hands out a full measure of joy and sorrow. Despite American faith in progress, things are actually cyclical, and none of us is immune to the horrors waiting to claw out of modern civilization’s core like Titans from the depths of Tartarus.
I hope that this 699th Olympiad brings a lot of fruition to the fire hose of creativity that I’m pouring into work. It’s an Olympiad of journeys, as there are so many places professionally, creatively, and personally where I could be before its end. But I am ultimately happy that I have a constant reminder of a friend and guide under whose winged shadow I go.