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There's something magical, mystical and downright mysterious about turning 40. In 2009 more than three million people in North America, South America and the Caribbean turned 40 and the year is not yet over.

In Haiti, the Congo, Madagascar and Darfur, starvation, militarism and violence have conspired to grant the privilege of reaching a 40th birthday to less than ten per cent of all the men that were born in 1969.

Consequently, my ability to reach the age of 40, to be able to write and reflect on achieving this milestone, is really an expression of my privileged circumstances. It was a random event that I was born in a tiny house situated on Loyal Hill in Devonshire, one stormy midnight in October 1969, instead of Port Au Prince, Brazzaville, Toliara, or Khartoum.

Having confessed my privilege, I will not apologize for it either. It is a fact about me. Unfortunately, and this grieves me deeply, I was also born into, and I live in, a world where such privilege is only possible because of the untold and unwelcome and downright disgusting poverty that four billion of the world's 6.7 billion people live and die in every day.

Nevertheless, reaching this age is an opportunity for me to look inward as I live outward. It is a time of frank reassessment and inner rapprochement. It is a time of aspiration and maybe even reinvention.

For the millions of human beings in this age bracket globally, hitting this stage can be a stimulating experience. It can also be a season of pensiveness and doubt and longing. It can also be a mid-life transition point.

But is turning 40 really a transition?

I have two Bachelor's degrees and one Master's degree and for part of my life between my early 20s and 30s, I had imbibed the curious notion that with a college education my life should be easier; that I should have more choices and a greater capacity to live my dream life.

But that did not happen. I discovered that while talent and intelligence and opportunity paved the way to many open doors, I soon noticed an interesting thing. As I achieved each original career goal and enjoyed a semblance of financial success, things never got easier. In fact they just became more complicated.

That's when the true crisis of my life purpose really set in. I began to ask is this really all there is? Work, and more work and juggling cheque books and children's schedules and community service projects? Is there no end to this treadmill? What's it all for?

The psychoanalyst Carl Jung labelled 40 the high noon of life. I am not sure what he meant by that, but for me the metaphor smacks of necessity and urgency because if I am at high noon at age 40, then I am moving inexorably toward the afternoon and the evening and the night time sleep of death.

I mulled over my life

On October 5, I turned 40. And as I mulled over my life that morning, I realized that the life I had so far was largely not of my planning or orchestration.

The family I was born into, the name I carry, the society and culture of Bermuda that formed me was not of my choosing. It was chosen for me, and it shaped me and imprinted itself upon and in me and I had no choice but to join in a process that was begun many years before I was conceived.

That is a humbling place because I have also been told that my decisions and life choices are all up to me, but at 40 I discovered that so much of who I am is the product of forces that are "givens." Some of these things I have responded to with resigned acceptance, others I have fought against.

Nevertheless, I ultimately found a way to accommodate myself to these realities in a way that made the most sense at the time. But this conflicts with the "believe and you can achieve" mantra or the "you can do anything if you just set your mind to it," platitude or "the world is an open road full of boundless opportunity," that seems so prevalent in the culture. These ideas assailed me constantly from the airways, and in books and in Hollywood movies and talk shows and motivational speeches.

This idea that the individual is in control and that it is possible to shape my own reality through thought and willpower turns out to be arrant nonsense and motivational mumbo-jumbo. I can say that now at age 40, because it has taken me that long to understand that life is not all about me and my carefully thought out plans. Life at 40 has shown me that hard work, and education and being the best does not always translate into material gain and a better, more just world.

The best plans fail and decisions taken with and from the purest of motives and intentions still end up hurting people. There are limits to our compassion and our ability to treat people fairly and with justice.

Positive thinking, encouraging affirmations and enthusiastic bromides cannot surmount many of the structural challenges that cannot be overcome they must be accepted and lived with.

Learning to embrace life's limits is part of this new self-understanding. It is a gift. The reality for me is that the last 39 years are gone forever. I cannot change that. Waking up and walking around in that new land is a sobering epiphany indeed. But I am consoled when I see that it's still high noon there is so much work for me still to do! n

Bermudian John-Anthony Burchall is M.Div Chaplain Resident at the Department of Mission and Pastoral Care,

Georgetown University

Hospital, Washington, DC

See part two in next Wednesday's paper: From ambition to meaning and back again.[[In-content Ad]]

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