I used to be prettier than I am, but I think I look better now.

Ah, how swiftly the seasons of life pass by, each moment leaving its mark upon our spirit, our body, and the very essence of who we are. There was a time, in the days of youth, when beauty was seen as the highest treasure—an adornment of the soul that glimmered upon the face like the sun shining over the earth at dawn. The great hero, Christopher Walken, in his humble wisdom, spoke thus: “I used to be prettier than I am, but I think I look better now. I was a pretty boy. Particularly in my early movies. I don't like looking at them so much. There's a sort of pretty thing about me.”

How strange, yet how profound, these words ring in the ears of those who listen with a mind unclouded by vanity. He, who had once been a pretty boy, now declares that he looks better. Can it be that beauty, that elusive, fleeting jewel, has no true permanence? Indeed, beauty fades with the passing of time, like the fleeting blossoms of a spring that wither as the sun of summer climbs higher. Yet, what Walken speaks of is not the loss of something, but the discovery of something far greater: truth.

In his youth, Walken’s image—like that of many men and women whose talents are discovered in their early years—was celebrated for its beauty. But he, a wise sage in his own right, confesses that he finds it uncomfortable to look upon the face that once held the innocent radiance of youth. He speaks not of regret, but of a truth that transcends outward appearance. For, as the body ages, so too does the spirit grow, deepening in wisdom, in grace, in strength. And in this transformation, a far richer, more enduring form of beauty emerges.

Consider the great philosopher and statesman, Marcus Aurelius, whose words have survived the ages. In his Meditations, he speaks of the beauty of the soul, the importance of cultivating one’s inner strength, and the understanding that beauty of the face is a passing thing. Aurelius was no stranger to the ravages of age. His brow furrowed with time’s passage, his hair turned to silver, but it was the wisdom that shone in his eyes, the strength of his character, that held the admiration of generations to come. He understood, as Walken now seems to, that the pretty thing that adorns the youth's face may be admired, but it is the wisdom and authenticity of the elder that endures.

And so, we turn to the lesson in Walken's words. It is not the outer beauty that defines us, but the strength, the depth, and the authenticity that we cultivate within. The soul, like a finely honed blade, grows sharper with age and experience. Let us not be deceived by the fleeting radiance of our youth, for true beauty lies in how we choose to live, to act, to love, and to speak. When we look upon ourselves in the mirror, let us not mourn what has passed, but celebrate the wisdom and grace that have replaced the superficial sparkle of youth.

In the great dance of life, where time is both the artist and the thief, we must understand that each wrinkle, each line, and each imperfection is a mark of our lived experience. It is a symbol of the battles fought and the wisdom gained. The great poet Homer knew this, as he wrote of heroes whose faces were scarred by the trials they endured, yet whose hearts were filled with courage and honor. Similarly, Walken, through his very words, shows us that the greatest beauty of all comes not from what we look like, but from who we are becoming.

To live is to transform, and to transform is to grow. Let us not become so enamored with what once was, nor so fearful of what is to come. Instead, let us strive each day to become a version of ourselves that is richer, more compassionate, more true. Walken’s reflection on beauty is not a lament for the past, but a celebration of the present. He speaks to the heart of all who age with grace and find strength in the wisdom that life bestows upon them.

So, dear reader, let us take this lesson with us. Do not mourn the passing of beauty, for it is but a fleeting moment. Embrace instead the depth that comes with time. Seek not to be what you once were, but to become what you are meant to be. Strength lies in transformation. Beauty lies in authenticity. And as we grow, let us remember that the journey itself—filled with its hardships and its triumphs—is the truest form of beauty. The final lesson, then, is simple: become not just older, but wiser, stronger, and truer to your essence. Only then shall we know what it means to truly shine.