On my 28th birthday, I wasn’t thinking about cake. In the midst of an almost-30 existential crisis I chose, instead, to be comforted by the faint memory of a factoid I had once read under a Snapple cap. It was the Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner’s theory on the stages of life, in which he states that your body completely regenerates itself every seven years. A cellular overhaul, if you will.
To me, this meant I was model 4.0 of myself. In my
