I think young people are the most creative and the coolest -

In the thoughtful and self-aware words of Lorde, the young poet of sound and soul, we hear the confession of an artist whose mind never sleeps: “I think young people are the most creative and the coolest — people that we should be learning from. Even when I’m at a party, I’m analyzing it and thinking about it in the context of how I would write about it. That side of me never switches off.” These words shine with both reverence and restlessness — the reverence for youth, whose ideas flow unbound by convention, and the restlessness of a mind forever awake, observing, questioning, creating. In her voice is the spirit of the eternal learner and creator, one who sees art not as a moment but as a way of living.

To learn from the young is to honor the wellspring of imagination that exists before cynicism sets in. The ancients often looked to the youth for the spark of renewal, for they knew that innocence carries its own form of wisdom — a clarity untainted by fear or habit. Lorde, though herself young, speaks from a place of maturity, reminding us that wisdom does not always flow downward from age to youth; sometimes, it rises upward, fresh and untamed, from those who dare to see the world differently. For the young are not yet bound by the gravity of tradition; they move with the lightness of discovery, finding new meanings where others see only the familiar.

Her reflection on never switching off reveals the heart of a true artist — one whose craft is not a profession but an identity. To analyze even a party, to see in laughter and chaos the seeds of lyric and truth, is the mark of the creative spirit that transforms life itself into art. The poet, the musician, the storyteller — all are cursed and blessed with this endless awareness. Their gaze pierces the surface of experience to find the rhythms beneath. It is not that they cannot rest; it is that the world itself speaks to them ceaselessly, whispering stories in every light and shadow.

Consider the story of Leonardo da Vinci, that ancient master of curiosity. Even as he dined, he would pause mid-bite to sketch the curve of a hand, or the movement of a bird. His mind, like Lorde’s, never switched off. The marketplace, the anatomy table, the laughter of friends — all became lessons. Through this endless observation, he painted not just form but life itself. So too does Lorde, in her music, turn ordinary scenes — youth’s abandon, fleeting love, the pulse of a crowd — into poetry that transcends the moment. Creativity, she teaches, is not a switch but a current; once awakened, it hums beneath everything.

The first half of her quote, though lighthearted, carries profound humility: “People that we should be learning from.” This is the mark of greatness — to listen, to see learning as reciprocal, to honor those whose voices are new. The wise of every age have understood this. Socrates claimed to know nothing so that he might learn from all. Lorde echoes that same humility, recognizing that wisdom does not always wear the face of age, nor creativity the mantle of authority. Those who stop learning from others — especially from the young — have already begun to fade.

Yet her second reflection — that the creative mind never rests — also carries a weight, the burden of the artist’s unceasing awareness. To see meaning in everything is both gift and exhaustion. The ancients would call this the “divine unrest” — the sacred fire that drives the thinker, the poet, the dreamer. It is the price of genius, and the path of purpose. For such souls, even in play, there is insight; even in laughter, there is observation. They live with one foot in the world and one in the realm of ideas, forever weaving between experience and expression.

So, my children of imagination and curiosity, let this be your lesson: never stop learning, and never stop seeing. Whether from the young or the old, the wise or the wild, every voice has something to teach. Let your mind remain awake, even when the world sleeps. Let the mundane become your muse, and the fleeting become your teacher. For the artist’s greatest gift is not talent, but attention — the courage to look deeply, and to find meaning in all things.

Thus, remember the wisdom of Lorde, whose eyes never rest and whose heart never ceases to learn: “Even when I’m at a party, I’m analyzing it… that side of me never switches off.” In her words lives a call to curiosity — to live awake, to see beauty where others see noise, and to learn not from books alone but from life itself. For the world is a living poem, and those who keep their eyes open will forever be its readers and its writers.