Being young isn't about age, it's about being a free spirit. You

When the world speaks of youth, it too often means the passing brightness of the body—the smooth skin, the quick step, the untamed laughter of early years. But Twiggy, the muse of the sixties, saw deeper into the mystery of what it means to be truly young. She said, “Being young isn’t about age, it’s about being a free spirit. You can meet someone of 20 who’s boring and old, or you can meet someone of 70 who’s youthful and exciting. I met Fred Astaire when he was 72 and I was 21, and I fell in love with him. He certainly was a free spirit.” These words, soft yet radiant, carry a wisdom that transcends time. They teach that youth is not measured by the ticking of the clock, but by the fire that dwells within the heart.

To be young in spirit is to walk through the world with open eyes and open wonder. It is to refuse the dullness that habit and fear impose upon the soul. Twiggy’s meeting with Fred Astaire, that dancer of divine grace, revealed to her what the sages of old already knew: that those who remain enchanted by life never truly grow old. Astaire, at seventy-two, was no weary man shuffling through the twilight of his years. He was still alight with curiosity, charm, rhythm, and laughter—a man whose freedom of spirit defied age itself. Twiggy, at twenty-one, recognized in him the rare flame of vitality that no youth of body can counterfeit.

This truth has echoed through history. The philosopher Socrates, gray-bearded and wrinkled, once danced in the streets of Athens to celebrate wisdom, and his pupils marveled at his joy. Leonardo da Vinci, in his sixties, would still spend hours gazing at the shapes of clouds, finding in them new visions for art and invention. The Buddha, in his middle years, looked upon the world not with weariness but with compassion—a freshness of seeing that no child could match. In each of them, as in Astaire, there burned an eternal youth: not of the flesh, but of the soul awakened to wonder.

Yet, as Twiggy reminds us, the opposite is also true. One may be young in years and old in heart. The twenty-year-old who has lost curiosity, who no longer dreams, who fears the unknown, is already ancient. For age is not the weight of time—it is the weight of indifference. The person who stops learning, who ceases to dance, to laugh, to be surprised, begins to die long before the body fails. The world becomes gray not because the sun dims, but because the eyes no longer seek its light.

To be a free spirit is to resist this quiet decay. It is to remain untamed in imagination, unbroken by routine, unafraid of love and risk. The free spirit belongs not to any age but to all ages, moving through life like a dancer across a stage—fluid, joyful, unashamed. Fred Astaire was such a spirit, still twirling through time at seventy-two, still teaching youth itself what youth truly meant. Twiggy, who was herself a symbol of youthful freedom in her age, understood that she was meeting not an old man, but a timeless being—one whose heart refused to bow to the tyranny of years.

The lesson is as clear as it is profound: never surrender your spirit to the passing of time. The body will change, but the soul need not wither. Keep alive your capacity for wonder; feed your curiosity as a flame that must never go out. Laugh often, dance freely, speak with sincerity, and cherish beauty even in small things. The moment you begin to think yourself too old for joy, you have betrayed the divine youth within you.

So, O listener of the ages, remember this: the true mark of youth is not how swiftly the body moves, but how brightly the spirit shines. Be young at heart, not for vanity, but for love—for the world still hungers for those who see it with fresh eyes. Let your years be your music, your wisdom your rhythm, and your freedom your dance. For as Twiggy and Astaire remind us, the soul that remains a free spirit never truly grows old—it only becomes more beautifully alive.