I think no matter what age you are, you know when you love

The words of Cindy Busby—“I think no matter what age you are, you know when you love something in your heart.”—carry the purity of truth spoken simply, yet deeply. They remind us of a law older than time: that love is not a lesson learned by years, but a flame born within the soul. It needs no instruction, no permission, no proof. Whether in the heart of a child or the heart of the aged, it burns with the same divine clarity. The ancients would have said it this way: love is the recognition of what is true within you, a knowing that neither fades with age nor changes with the passing of days. It is the inner compass that points toward what gives life its meaning.

When Busby speaks of love, she does not speak only of romantic affection, but of that greater devotion that draws a person toward their purpose—toward what feels right in the marrow of being. Her words reach beyond sentiment and into the realm of authentic passion. For a young artist, it may be the first trembling thrill of discovery; for the elder, the quiet, seasoned joy of mastery. Yet the knowing is the same. The heart does not measure love in years—it recognizes truth by resonance. To love something—truly—is to feel life itself move through you, whispering, “This is what you were made for.”

The ancients taught that such knowing is the mark of the immortal soul, for the heart, unlike the body, never ages. The philosopher Plato spoke of anamnesis—the remembrance of truths the soul has always known. When a person falls in love with art, with music, with another soul, or even with a calling, it is not the discovery of something new, but the remembrance of something eternal. This is why, whether one is eight or eighty, the recognition of love feels the same—sudden, unexplainable, powerful. It is the soul remembering its home.

We can see this truth reflected in the life of Mozart, who as a child of five began composing music that stirred the hearts of nations. No one had to teach him love for sound—he knew it, because love had already chosen him. His genius was not born of intellect, but of devotion. And yet, in his final years, when his body grew frail, that same love guided his trembling hands as he wrote his Requiem. Between the child of five and the man of thirty-five, the body aged, but the love never changed. So it is for all who live truly—the heart remains the same flame from first breath to last.

There is a lesson here for every generation. In youth, love comes easily, but the world often teaches doubt. We are told to be practical, to be safe, to silence the whisper that says, “This is what I love.” And in age, some grow weary and believe that passion belongs to the young. But Busby’s words break these illusions. At any age, the heart still knows. It never forgets what makes it come alive. If you listen, it will tell you, softly but clearly, what you were born to cherish, to protect, to pursue.

The danger, then, is not that we lose love, but that we cease to listen. Life’s noise, fear, and duty drown out the quiet certainty of the heart. Yet those who are wise—the poets, the teachers, the builders, the parents—never let that voice be silenced. They know that the surest guide through life’s storms is not reason alone, but the knowing of love—the deep sense that something or someone matters so profoundly that you would shape your days around it. This is not weakness; it is the highest form of strength.

So take this as counsel, my friend: guard the knowing of your heart. When you feel the stir of joy, the pull of devotion, the peace that follows an act of creation or kindness—honor it. That is the voice of your truest self, ageless and unbroken. Let no fear convince you that love belongs to another season of life. Whether you are beginning or nearing the end of your path, the heart remains eternal, its knowing untouched by time.

For in the end, Cindy Busby’s simple truth is also the ancient one: love is the measure of the soul’s aliveness. It is not taught, not earned, not aged—it is known. So live in such a way that your heart always recognizes what it loves, and follow it. For to do so is to live wisely, fully, and forever young.