Written in my diary on Wednesday night:
Why does the world glorify Youth? I now know.
People in general, pursuing pleasure, addict themselves to the thrill (and whatever activity or substance helps them feel it). If they do, they will either end up in a junkiefied wreck, or as a mean old grumpy wotsit, reminiscing about the days when 'it' was still fun.
And hence the Cult of Youth – it is glorified because that was the era in which the thrill could still be felt, before the great pleasures had been dulled by empty, greedy repetition. 'Enjoy it while you can' is the cry. 'Live fast, die young'.
NO!! Live well; live more.
CS Lewis, tonight, pointed out a simple thing to me: unless a grain of wheat dies, it cannot grow; it cannot multiply. Unless we have the guts to let go of our security blanket happy places and morphine-lite thrill rides, they will just shrivel up and waste away. We will squeeze every last drop out, then chew the rind, but it's barren and empty.
It's tough, but we have to let it go; to free ourselves from the need to be pleasured.
If we do, we'll find fruitfulness begin to bud unbidden: here, there and everywhere, thrills and joyfulnesses by the bunch, all to be enjoyed with thankfulness. Our black and white TVs are cute and endearing, but they are not to be watched day and night, night and day. If we'd only make room, not only are there are 16" flat-screen HD tellys, but also archery, novels, cooking, horse-riding, berry-picking, real ale, conjurors, mountainsides, toddlers, cricket, wood-chopping, bacon sandwiches, Maoris, poetry, siestas, Harry Hill, and a hundred other pleasures waiting to be discovered by you and your friends.
We should keep budding right into our old age. We don't, and so we think that Youth is somehow special, because that was when we last felt special. Alas.