In The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams plays a beautiful joke on his characters and his readers. (Spoiler alert coming up, although I’m guessing if you haven’t read it by now it’s probably not one for you anyway). In the book, Adams sends his hero on a search for the answers to “life, the universe and everything”. Each time the characters think they’re getting closer to the answer it is pulled away from them until right at the very end when it is revealed that the answer to “life, the universe and everything” is in fact… 42. That’s it. Just 42.
When you first discover this, as a reader, your brain instantly tries to make sense of it. What more could there be to know here? What clues have you missed along the way? But the truth is, there’s nothing more to learn. Adams was simply playing a little joke on his readers, promising them diamonds and then delighting in their horror when all they got was coal. He’s admitted in interviews since that he picked the number 42 for no other reason than he quite liked it.
Fans of the novel are alternately horrified and delighted by this. For some, the thought that the entire story could have been leading up to a non-reveal is too much. They go on a hunt for some deeper meaning - whole books have been written about the symbolism of the number 42 based on nothing more than Adams plucking it out of the air and putting it in a book that would go onto become a bestseller. For other people - for me - there is something delightful in the sheer audacity of it. Of course the answer is as simple and unilluminating as 42! Why were you going looking for the meaning of life anyway? You’re supposed to be living it.
Despite reading that book when I was about 12 - and learning then that while 42 might be the answer, the answer isn’t really the point - I think I was still hoping that there would be some illumination in this 42nd year of life. That maybe it would start to make a bit of sense but instead the opposite has happened.
Today I turn 42 years old. Does anyone know how you are supposed to feel at 42? And if so, could you tell me? Because, despite being two years in, I can’t seem to get a handle on being in my forties. This might be because when I was a child everyone liked to say that I was old before my time and yet now, as I miss the milestones that have been randomly assigned to age - marriage, children, Botox - I feel younger and more naive than I ever have.
I entered 41 with the goal of not being in the same place at the end of the year. I don’t think I really knew what I wanted to change but I knew something had to shift. I was broken-hearted, exhausted and a bit lost, and I just couldn’t sit in that energy any longer. So I made this a year of making things happen. I picked up and moved to another part of the country, I dug down into my working life and tried to get better at my craft, I went on dates and started training to become a sex and relationships therapist (the last two things are not linked). I swam in cold water, went back to yoga, walked in the forest, danced, went to therapy, cried, laughed and eventually did a photoshoot in my underwear (more on that another day).
I wish I could tell you that if you too are ending this year heartbroken, exhausted and a little lost, that in the past 365 days I have found the answer to changing this. But I haven’t. Some days I feel invincible, some days I want to crawl into bed and stay there, and there seems to be no rhyme or reason to either. I spent 41 searching for an answer to why I feel the way I do. But none came.
And today I turned 42 and I’m reminded, the answer doesn’t matter.
The thing that makes The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy such a wonderful book is the adventure the hero goes on. It’s filled with madness and wonder, and largely makes very little sense. Nothing that happens brings our hero particular joy or pleasure, some brings sadness and fear, but it’s the experience that counts. Just to be out here in the universe, living and growing - that’s the answer. How clever of my 12 year old self to have learned that so young, and how silly of my 42 year old self to have forgotten it for so long.
Of course this wouldn’t be a traditional end of year newsletter if it didn’t have a section on what I’m taking into 2024 and what I’m leaving behind, so let’s do it.
In:
Lazy Bitch Dinner - deconstructed sushi bowls in five minutes. You’re welcome.
Yoga
Walks in the woods
Doing it for the plot
Photoshoots
Breathwork
Fun
Doubling my income
Out:
Pilates - I’ve never liked it and I’m done pretending
Noah Kahn - I love him but I have to let him go. I think he’d understand.
Moving house
Being low maintenance
Not taking holidays
Explaining myself to people
Bad teeth
We Can’t Do It Alone is a reader supported publication. If you enjoy these newsletters and would like to support them, then you can become a paying subscriber here.
Subscriptions start at £5.45 a month and there is also the option to become a founding member, where you get all the benefits of subscribing plus a 1-2-1 coaching session with me. This newsletter will always provide free content so if you’re not able to afford to be a paying subscriber at this moment in time, don’t worry. You can still support me by sharing any newsletters you find particularly interesting. If you’re sharing on social media, do tag me @harrietminter and I’ll make sure to reshare.