Youth

- Samuel Ullman

Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination, vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.

Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity of the appetite, for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of 60 more than a man of 20.Nobody grows old by a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals.

Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, fear, self-destruct bows the heart and turns the spirit back to dust.

Whether 60 or 16, there is in every human being’s heart the lure of wonder, the unfailing childlike appetite of what’s next and the joy of the game of living. In the center of your heart and my heart there is a wireless station: so long as it receives massages of beauty from men and from the Infinite, so long are you young.

When the aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicism and the ice of pessimism, then you are grow old, even at 20, but as long as your aerials are up, to catch waves of optimism, there is hope you may die young at 80.

I came across this poem on Youth by Samuel Ullman a few months ago and I thought I'd just share it with you...

Seasons

I like fall… and ultimately winter. There is this aura about the two that I believe is very captivating. I can’t describe it. Fall: the most beautiful of all seasons. The color of trees, the drop in temperature and the sight of falling leaves have always left a feeling of enthrallment within me. People say winter represents death and fall its threshold. But to me winter represents life. It is the ultimate display of life’s perseverance to carry on in a world that does not care for it. Life goes on. And it is this that makes winter so special, for winter does not take life – it merely tests the strength of those that are around when it passes by.

The leaves fall. The grass die. Fall comes and winter sets in. The seasons come no matter what one does. Slowly, life withers and many a life fade away for ever. The leaves turn golden red. And slowly, one by one, they fall from the branches to cover the damp earth. Then winter sets in. Snow descends and covers the land in white. The bare trunks with white flakes bear witness to the passing of an unwanted season. Birds fly south while bears hibernate to hide from the cold winter. But life carries on.

The rivers and streams are frozen. The landscape transformed to a barren desert of white. The animals and birds are gone, gone to escape the chilling winds that now sweep the wasteland. The berries and grass are buried. The meadows have disappeared. There is no green to be seen anywhere. Only the pale color of snow remains.

But time passes by and winter slowly withers away. The icicles and sheets of ice begin to thaw. The rivers and creeks make their way through the valley that now sees the budding of plants and trees. The grass begins to grow back and cover the once white land; the grip of winter fades. The birds return and the animals come out from their burrows. A new music fills the air as the birds sing and animals play. A new life awaits them. Spring is in the air.

The days get longer with each passing day. Then comes summer: the season when life is at it’s fullest. Trees of all kind bear fruits while squirrels and other tree dwellers play on the branches. The animals big and small try to make the most of the little time they have. But one by one the days pass by. In time, the woodpeckers build their homes in the trees while the little ants prepare themselves to face the coming winter. Alas! A new season awaits them. The clouds come and with it, fall. A new cycle begins.