Happy Days 😊 #87
The magic of simultaneity and getting older
Happy Saturday, my dear readers. ☀️
There are days, and sometimes entire life phases, when everything happens at once. You’re laughing in a meadow while a quiet ache curls up somewhere in your belly and won’t be laughed away. Or you’re sitting in the sunshine, drinking a very good espresso, and thinking of someone who’s going through hell. And you love. And you grieve. Simultaneously.
I no longer find that strange. I’ve come to think of it as normal. Maybe this is what being an adult really means. Not tax brackets or the number of doctor appointments you’ve made this quarter. But the ability to hold contradictions without losing your mind.
The older I get, the better I become at this particular activity: living. Not juggling. Not optimizing. Just living. With all of it. At the same time. I’ve stopped believing that clarity must always be pure, or that feelings should behave themselves. Nothing is tidy. And maybe that’s exactly what makes it real.
That’s why I’m heavily surprised and honestly, a little sad when I hear people say things like: “I’m turning 40+, so I’m basically old.” Or even worse: “Back in my mid-twenties, everything was better – no responsibilities, no obligations, just freedom.”
And I think: No. No, really not. Your mid-twenties weren’t the goal – they were the rehearsal. The warm-up. The sound check. Life doesn’t really begin until after that. That’s when the chorus hits. That’s when the real stuff starts – the stuff with meaning and depth and, yes, responsibility. But also a new kind of lightness: the lightness that comes with experience. With the calm of no longer needing to be everything.
And sometimes I wonder: When someone struggles that much with growing older: what does that say about the life they’ve lived so far? Maybe it’s not age they’re lamenting. Maybe it’s the quiet realization that they’ve often lived past themselves. And they just haven’t been honest about it yet.
I believe life after 40+ doesn’t get heavier. It gets more real. And cooler. Because I know myself better. Because I know what nourishes me. And because I’m no longer afraid of simultaneity – of joy and grief, of chaos and clarity, of baggage and new beginnings.
So when someone tells me they wish they could be 25 again, I may smile politely – but in truth, I’m thinking: Why go back, when it’s only just getting good?
Happy reading.
Yours, Désirée
Something to read 📚
This edition was inspired by someone I consider one of the sharpest and most tender observers of life’s everyday absurdities: Ildikó von Kürthy. Recently, she applied to Germany’s Next Topmodel. Yes, really. And instead of acting with irony or self-deprecation, she speaks about it with warmth, clarity, and a startling honesty about aging, desire, and daring to do something unexpected.
She described the experience not as a joke, but as an adventure. A way of showing up for yourself, even (or especially) when others raise an eyebrow. Her words made me pause. Because they weren’t just about modeling. They were about life. About getting older. About being seen. And about how strange it is that we still pretend youth is the only valid currency.
So this reading list is a quiet bow to her – and to everyone who is learning to live fully in the beautiful, messy bothness of life: growing older and bolder. And refusing to pretend that we have to choose just one.
Ildikó von Kürthy – Mondscheintarif (German)
This is where it all began. A smart, funny, deeply tender novel about longing, expectations, and the small emotional catastrophes of everyday life. It captures what it feels like to be in between: between calls, between illusions and clarity, between your younger self and the one that’s slowly emerging. It’s light and sharp at the same time – and if you’ve ever waited by a phone (literal or metaphorical), this one will hit home.
Ildikó von Kürthy – Sternschanze (German)
The unofficial follow-up to Mondscheintarif, Sternschanze revisits the same character later in life – older, a little wiser, a little sadder, but also freer. It’s a book about looking back without self-pity and forward without illusion. And above all: about making peace with your life as it is, not as it was supposed to be.
Joan Didion – The Year of Magical Thinking (German / English)
No book expresses simultaneity like this one. Joan Didion’s memoir about grief, love, and everyday life after loss is a masterpiece of holding conflicting emotions in the same hand. Beautiful, painful, precise. It reminds us that life doesn’t stop – not even for mourning.
Cheryl Strayed – Tiny Beautiful Things (English)
Advice column letters turned into life lessons. Cheryl Strayed’s voice is wise, raw, and warm. This is a book to pick up when you need comfort without clichés, when you need to hear that your confusion, contradictions, and coexisting truths are entirely human.
Something to try ✨
Let’s do a quick check-in. Think about all the buckets in your life: health, relationships, work, finances – everything. Now ask yourself:
On a scale of 1 to 10 – with the Dalai Lama being a 10 and rock bottom being a 1 – what’s your happiness number?
Take a moment. Be honest. Got your number?
A 7 might sound pretty decent, right? But if a child came home with a 70 on their math test, that’s a C-!
A 6? That’s a straight-up F – in the most important subject of all: your happiness.
But here’s what’s truly fascinating about this little test:
It’s not your score that matters: it’s what flashes into your mind when you answer.
Your brain automatically starts at 10. It wants you to be happy. And then it subtracts the two or three biggest things that are holding you back.
Maybe it’s stress at work. Or that one relationship that drains you. Maybe it’s financial pressure, too little sleep, or the quiet ache of not doing what you love. Those first thoughts? Those are your obstacles. They’re your personal saboteurs.
Try this:
Name the first two things that came to mind when your brain did the subtraction.
Now ask yourself: What would it take to shift just one of them – even a little bit?
Sometimes happiness isn’t about adding more. It’s about subtracting what weighs you down. And here’s where it loops back to this issue’s theme:
Maybe it’s not age that makes people feel stuck, dull, or dissatisfied.
Maybe it’s not the number 40+.
Maybe it’s what we’ve subtracted over time: joy, spontaneity, connection, courage – without even noticing.
What if the problem isn’t that we’re growing older, but that we’ve stopped growing toward the life we actually want?
Something to think about 💭
Let’s stay with the theme: that life is rarely one thing at a time. That joy and sorrow, clarity and confusion, peace and pressure often walk side by side. And that maybe, just maybe, happiness isn’t something you chase — but something that emerges when you stop subtracting yourself from your own life.
In an instagram clip, Simon Sinek speaks about the key to happiness which isn’t to chase happiness. It’s to REMOVE unhappiness.”
In just under a minute, Sinek says what many of us feel but rarely name:
“We try to chase happiness like it’s a destination. But maybe the better approach is subtraction. Removing the things that make us unhappy.”
Something to eat 🍽
There are few things in life as deeply satisfying as a really good salad – one that’s more than just green stuff, but feels like a full-body hug in a bowl. This Kale and Tahini Caesar Salad with Chickpeas does exactly that.
It’s crunchy, creamy, punchy and grounding. The tahini dressing adds that smoky depth, the crispy chickpeas bring the joy. It’s healthful and indulgent. And in case you’re wondering what to eat next Wednesday… this will be it. At least over here.
Ingredients (serves 2)
200g Kale leaves, roughly torn
1 tsp Lemon juice
1 Head romaine, trimmed, halved and sliced 2cm thick
10g Mint leaves
15g Parsley leaves and soft stems, picked
ZA'ATAR CHICKPEAS
1 tin Chickpeas (400g), drained (240g)
1 tbsp Olive oil
1 tbsp Za'atar
ROASTED GRAPES
400g Red seedless grapes
1 tbsp Olive oil
Salt
TAHINI PARMESAN DRESSING
60g Tahini
50g Greek-style yoghurt
3½ tbsp lemon juice (from 3 lemons)
2 Garlic cloves, peeled and roughly chopped
45g Parmesan, roughly grated plus 20g extra, finely grated to serve
15g Anchovies in oil, drained (about 4-5)
1½ tsp English mustard
2 tbsp Olive oil
Salt
Black Pepper
Method
Preheat the oven to 160C. Pat the chickpeas well dry with a clean kitchen towel.
Transfer to a bowl and mix the oil, za'atar and a pinch of salt. Spread out onto a large parchment lined baking tray and roast for 1 hour, stirring a couple times throughout, until nicely browned and crisp.
Once the chickpeas are done, set them aside to cool and turn the oven temperature up to 180C. Add the grapes to a medium parchment-lined baking tray with the oil and a pinch of salt. Roast for 10-15 minutes, until they’re lightly blistered but still holding their shape.
Add the kale to a large bowl with ¼ teaspoon salt and the lemon juice and use your hands to massage the leaves. Set aside to soften for about 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, make the dressing by adding all the ingredients to a small food processor with a small pinch of salt and blitzing until smooth.
To the kale add the romaine, herbs and dressing and mix well to combine. Spread out half the mixture onto a large platter and top with half the chickpeas and the grapes then repeat with the remaining salad, chickpeas and grapes. Grate over the extra parmesan and serve.
The End.
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