There is something embarrassing about growing older. You’ll notice that most older people get quieter and quieter.
The longer you live, the more you realise that our lives are governed by age-old forces, the accumulated legacy of our ancestors. As a final member in that chain reaching into the distant past, we stand in the duty of linking up to the next generation who think, of course, that their lives are unique and special.
I’ve come that road. In my young days I determined to live anew, find better solutions and improve on my forefathers and mothers. As we go on in time, we realise that this quest for uniqueness is the prerogative of every individual, that it is the most common process in life. In fact, it might be vital to human functionality. So as we get older (and know better), we simply shut up and let the young ones have their way. They may believe, as we once did, that passions and desires, ambitions and quests are theirs to realise.
There comes a time, for some sooner than later, when we all realise that we stand facelessly in a universal endeavor of which most of us can’t say what the outcome shall be. The first inkling of this underlying force comes to us, when we bury our first childhood dream, because it doesn’t serve us well. The first time we turn traitor on ourselves, that’s when we start growing up.
You’ll find older people growing quieter and quieter.
We all are damn new at living, at every age.