Why Growing Old Is Actually The Coolest Thing Ever

A fresh take on aging, wisdom, and why growing old is something to celebrate—not fear. Inspired by Beverly, Bob, Joyce Silas, Joyce Fryklund, Elaine, Tom, Stuart, & Rose. Thank you.

Aging whispers to us in ways we don’t always recognize.

It arrives not with a dramatic entrance, but in the subtle shifts—the laugh lines deepening, the way we stop caring about what strangers think, and in my case, the hairline slowly receding.

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It’s a tragedy.

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At first, we resist. We buy the anti-aging creams, we shy away from birthdays, we hold onto youth like it’s the only thing that makes us whole.

But what if we’ve had it wrong all along? What if growing old is not a slow unraveling, but an exquisite layering—of wisdom, of love, of moments stitched together in a tapestry that only time can create?

We live in a world obsessed with youth, where the future is idolized and the past is tucked away like an old photograph. Society tells us that the best years are the ones still ahead, that beauty is fresh skin and fast bodies, and that we should cling to the illusion of permanence.

And yet, the most interesting people I’ve ever met are the ones who have lived—really lived.

Viktor Frankl nailed this concept in his must-read book, Man’s Search for Meaning. I included the whole section below because it’s so impactful:

"The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? No, thank you," he will think. "Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, although these are things which cannot inspire envy."

We place far more value on the possibilities of lives yet to be lived than on the richness of lives already lived.

The Poetry of Experience

Aging is not just a number climbing higher each year—it is the poetry of existence.

It is the way our elders tell a story, unhurried, savoring the words, because they understand that good things should not be rushed. It is in their stillness, the kind that comes from having weathered storms and learned that no wind lasts forever.

There’s a freedom in aging that no one warns you about. The desperate need for approval fades, the obsession with perfection softens.

The never-ending attempts to be someone give way to simply becoming more of who you truly are. In the process, meeting others who are meant to join your journey.

A heartfelt moment captured in time. A couple embracing their love in a photoshoot at the Oklahoma City Botanical Garden, their connection shining through the screen.

We typically look for someone to grow old together, while the secret is to find someone to stay a child with.

A harmonious contradiction.

The Art of Letting Go

Yes, aging comes with loss. There is no denying that. The body changes, energy wanes, time becomes more precious. But maybe loss is not the enemy we think it is.

Maybe it is the sculptor of our lives, carving away what no longer serves us, leaving behind only what truly matters.

We do not become less as we age—we become distilled, our essence clearer, our hearts softer, our priorities sharpened by time’s patient hand.

We learn to let go—not in the way that youth fears, as a kind of giving up, but as an opening.

We let go of expectations, of the need to prove ourselves, of the clutter that once weighed us down.

And in that space, we find something unexpected.

Peace.

The Invitation of Aging

So what if, instead of dreading the years ahead, we welcomed them like an old friend? What if we stopped seeing age as something to fear and instead saw it as an invitation—an invitation to slow down, to reflect, to bask in the life we’ve built?

Growing old is not about fading away.

It is about becoming.

Becoming fuller, becoming wiser, becoming more of who we were always meant to be.

It is not the closing of a book but the turning of a page, a new chapter written with a steady hand.

And if we learn to embrace it, we might just realize that growing old is not a curse, but a gift.

And what a beautiful gift it is.

Stay old, friends.

Brady