In your twenties, you think you are immortal. In your thirties

“In your twenties, you think you are immortal. In your thirties, you hope you are immortal.” Thus spoke Lemmy Kilmister, the iron-voiced frontman of Motörhead, a man who lived as if the flame of life could never burn too bright. His words, though born from the world of rock and rebellion, carry the ageless wisdom of the ancients. Beneath the thunder of guitars lies a meditation on youth, mortality, and the dawning of self-awareness. For in these few simple lines, Lemmy captures the arc of human awakening — that passage from the reckless eternity of youth to the humbled yearning of maturity.

When he says, “In your twenties, you think you are immortal,” he speaks of the illusion of endlessness that grips the young. In youth, the heart beats like a war drum, and every day feels like the beginning of forever. The young man throws himself into love, danger, and dream without thought of consequence, believing the world will bend to his will. The ancients knew this too — that youth is the season of fire. Achilles, the swift-footed hero of Greece, went to Troy knowing his fate, yet he fought as though death could not touch him. His glory was bright and brief, and he burned with the same conviction Lemmy describes: the belief that mortality is for others.

But time, relentless and wise, has its own lessons to teach. When Lemmy continues, “In your thirties, you hope you are immortal,” he reveals the first awakening — that quiet realization that the body is not indestructible, and the nights of wild defiance give way to mornings of reckoning. Hope replaces certainty. The warrior begins to see his scars, the dreamer begins to count his years. This is not a loss of power, but a transformation — for hope, though humbler than belief, is deeper. It carries within it reflection, gratitude, and the beginning of wisdom. To hope for immortality is to begin to understand mortality — and to treasure the time that remains.

Lemmy, a man who lived on the edge, spoke these words not from distance but from experience. He lived as a spirit of his own philosophy — fierce, unrelenting, unafraid. Yet as he aged, he grew reflective, aware that even the strongest flame casts a shadow. In this awareness, there is no despair, only acceptance — the ancient knowledge that to live fully is to live knowing you will die. The Egyptian pharaohs built tombs to remind themselves of eternity, but they did so not in fear, but in reverence. They understood what Lemmy too understood in his later years: that immortality is not the absence of death, but the presence of legacy, memory, and meaning.

History, too, is filled with those who learned this truth. Alexander the Great, conqueror of worlds, believed himself touched by the divine. He thought himself immortal — until sickness humbled him at thirty-two, and his vast empire crumbled to dust. Yet his name endures, carried through centuries by the echo of his deeds. So too it is with all who live fiercely and create boldly: they discover that immortality lies not in the body, but in what the body dares to do. The young seek to live forever; the wise seek to leave something that does.

Thus, Lemmy’s words are not merely about aging, but about awakening. In our twenties, we live for the moment, unafraid and unthinking. In our thirties, we begin to see time not as an enemy, but as a teacher. We learn that every joy is precious because it will end, and every breath is sacred because it is finite. To hope you are immortal is to recognize the miracle of being alive — to savor life, not consume it blindly. This shift from ignorance to gratitude marks the true passage into maturity.

So, my child, take this wisdom to heart: do not mourn the end of youthful illusions, for what replaces them is richer still. Live with the courage of your twenties and the wisdom of your thirties. Be fearless, but not foolish. Chase glory, but honor peace. And when the thought of mortality stirs fear in you, remember that to live meaningfully is to become immortal in spirit. The body may falter, but the song endures, carried forward in the hearts of those you’ve touched.

For in the end, immortality is not granted — it is earned. It is forged in the choices we make, the love we give, and the truth we dare to live. Lemmy knew this well: that the music fades, the lights dim, but the echo remains. So live as he did — fiercely, honestly, and aware that the clock may tick, but the soul, when lived fully, never truly dies.