The years did not close the gates.
They opened side paths,
small stiles through old stone walls,
where astonishment still waits,
lantern in hand,
for those willing to walk on.

Lately I’ve been reflecting on the curious possibility that age and youth are not always opposites. We speak so easily of growing older as a narrowing — fewer horizons, familiar routines, settled conclusions. Yet I’m increasingly persuaded that another movement is possible: not contraction, but widening.

I recently came across a study suggesting that centenarians (like Sir David Attenborough) often score highly on one trait in particular: openness — a flexibility of mind, a receptivity to new ideas, a continuing willingness to be surprised. I find myself delightfully encouraged by that.

Part of my own curiosity and gladness in and with the advent of new technology arises here. Not from novelty alone, but from creative possibility: fresh rooms opening within old houses; new conversations entering landscapes already rich with memory and meaning.

The years bring their own graces — love given and received, losses endured, books read, dawns witnessed, paths walked. So perhaps age need not close the gates. Perhaps it quietly reveals side paths we had never noticed before.

And there, somewhere ahead, lantern in hand, astonishment and the ‘widening gyre’ still waits. And the beauty and wisdom seen in the smiling face of Brother David Steindl-Rast describes the arc of life’s fullness in him, from child to man.

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