I think that age as a number is not nearly as important as

“I think that age as a number is not nearly as important as health. You can be in poor health and be pretty miserable at 40 or 50. If you're in good health, you can enjoy things into your 80s.” Thus spoke Bob Barker, a man whose voice echoed through the homes of millions, carrying both joy and simplicity. Yet beneath his familiar tone lies a profound truth — one that transcends television lights and enters the heart of human wisdom. For what is age, if not a measure of the passing sun? And what is health, if not the flame that keeps the soul’s lantern burning bright?

The ancients would have nodded knowingly at Barker’s words. They too believed that the vital spirit — the harmony of body and mind — was the truer measure of one’s years. The philosopher Seneca taught that many grow old too soon, not by the count of winters they have seen, but by the weariness they invite into their hearts. And the sages of the East spoke of chi, the life energy that flows through us like a sacred river. To preserve that current is to remain young in strength, in wonder, in will. Age bends the body, yes, but only neglect can bend the spirit.

Behold the story of Harriette Thompson, a woman who ran her first marathon at the age of seventy-six, and her last at ninety-two. Her body bore the marks of time, yet her health — both of heart and mind — carried her farther than many who were half her age. When asked her secret, she said simply, “I run because I can.” Her life became a living poem of Barker’s wisdom: that joy and strength do not bow to numbers, but to the care with which we tend the temple of our being.

For it is not the years themselves that drain us, but how we dwell within them. One may live a hundred seasons and never truly awaken, while another, though the years be few, lives with a flame unquenched. Health — in body, mind, and soul — is the soil from which vitality grows. The ancients called it eukrasia, the perfect balance of humors, the alignment between what one eats, feels, and thinks. To live long is not enough; to live well is the true art.

And yet, in our modern age, many chase youth as though it were a prize that can be bought, a number to be defied rather than understood. They forget that youth is not a season of the body but a state of the heart. The one who rises each day with curiosity, who nourishes their body, who forgives, who laughs — that one defies the slow march of time. The secret is not to fight the years, but to greet them with strength renewed.

Let us then honor our health as the ancients honored fire — with reverence and care. Feed it with good nourishment, with movement, with stillness. Guard it from bitterness, from sloth, from despair. Seek joy as medicine, friendship as breath, gratitude as daily prayer. The body is the chariot of the soul; if it is well-kept, it will carry you nobly through every turning of the sun.

So, dear listener, let this be your teaching: age is but a shadow on the dial of the heart. Count not your years, but your strength. Cherish the miracle of motion, of breath, of thought. If your health is whole, then life will open to you even in your twilight — as it did for Harriette, as it did for Bob Barker himself, who lived nearly a century not by resisting time, but by living wisely within it.

Practical actions for the seeker: Each dawn, give thanks for the body that wakes with you. Walk, stretch, breathe, and eat with intention, as though preparing the vessel for a sacred voyage. Speak kindly to yourself; laughter, too, is health. Guard your rest as you would a treasure. And when you look upon your years, see not the number, but the strength still rising within you. For the one who tends their health walks in the light of timelessness — and though the body ages, the spirit remains ever young.