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Our age is not real
The illusion of time and numbers
Recently, I experienced a quiet earthquake in my understanding of time. I learned that in Islam, we calculate age using the Hijri calendar.
As someone who follows this calendar to plan all my life, it was a profound shock. How had I never considered its implications for my own age?
The realization hit me in waves. First, disbelief. Then, a strange sense of unreality. The number I’d associated with myself for my entire life — it wasn’t quite accurate. And then, the kicker: I was actually older. Not drastically, but enough to make me pause.
This wasn’t just a mathematical discrepancy. It resonated with an experience. When I turned 30 on the Gregorian calendar, I was surprised by the emotional weight it carried. I felt a subtle shift, a pressure to have achieved certain milestones.
Even though I intellectually knew it was just a number, a part of me felt a pang of… something. Was it sadness? Anxiety? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
Maybe it was because I have always had a unique relationship with age, because as an early bloomer, I am used to always being the youngest in every environment.