The nearer people approach old age the closer they return to a

“The nearer people approach old age the closer they return to a semblance of childhood, until the time comes for them to depart this life, again like children, neither tired of living nor aware of death.” — Desiderius Erasmus

Thus spoke Desiderius Erasmus, the wise scholar of the Renaissance, whose pen bridged the worlds of faith and reason, laughter and truth. In this gentle yet profound observation, he reveals a circle that governs all mortal life: the cycle of innocence, where the end mirrors the beginning. The child and the elder, though separated by the long journey of years, share the same soul-state—one untouched by full knowledge of the world, the other released from it. Erasmus invites us to see aging not as decline, but as return: a quiet homecoming to the simplicity from which we first came.

In youth, the soul is raw and wide-eyed; it hungers for the world. The child knows not fear of death, for it has not yet learned to measure time. In age, when the fires of ambition burn low and the body softens, a strange serenity returns. The elder, too, grows gentle, forgetful of striving, content with small joys—the warmth of sunlight, the laughter of kin, the calm rhythm of days. Thus, as Erasmus teaches, old age is not the loss of strength but the shedding of burdens. It is the gradual unlearning of the world’s weight, the sacred preparation for release.

Consider the example of Leo Tolstoy, who in his final years laid aside the riches of fame and the weight of intellect to seek simplicity once more. Having written of war, love, and moral torment, he left his estate, choosing instead the peace of peasant roads and humble prayers. In that return to simplicity, he found not despair, but a kind of second childhood—a wonder unburdened by the world’s noise. Like the child, he became curious again, not of things but of meaning. In that final pilgrimage, he lived Erasmus’s truth: that the end of wisdom is not power, but peace.

There is a hidden tenderness in this return to childhood. For in our later years, memory fades, the senses dull, and the mind, once sharp and restless, grows quiet. To some, this seems tragedy. But to the wise, it is mercy. The Creator, in His mysterious compassion, leads the weary spirit back toward simplicity. As the body weakens, the heart softens; as the mind forgets, the soul remembers. The old man forgets the bitterness of ambition and remembers the sweetness of being. He speaks to birds, smiles at children, and greets the morning not as one counting his days, but as one grateful to see another dawn.

Erasmus, who believed laughter was nearer to holiness than sorrow, saw in this transformation a divine jest—a final grace. The child is born innocent because it has not yet known the world’s illusions; the elder becomes innocent again because he has seen through them. Thus, the wise grow playful before they pass. Their hearts are light, their speech simple, their joy pure. They no longer seek to conquer, only to love. And when death approaches, they meet it not as an enemy, but as a familiar friend returning them to the Source.

Let this truth be our comfort: that to age is not to fall, but to circle back toward the eternal. The journey of life, with all its trials and triumphs, is but the long arc of a soul returning to the child it once was. Those who live rightly do not fear the end; for when it comes, they are already home within themselves—neither tired of living nor aware of death, as Erasmus so tenderly writes. Their passing is as soft as the closing of a child’s eyes after a day of wonder.

Practical wisdom for those who would live in harmony with the ages:

• In youth, cultivate curiosity; in age, cultivate peace.

• As strength fades, let gentleness grow; as memory dims, let gratitude brighten.

• Seek to live in such a way that the heart, even in its last hour, is as untroubled as a child’s sleep.

• And remember: every day lived with wonder brings you nearer not to an end, but to a beginning made holy through understanding.

For in the great cycle of being, childhood and old age are the same dawn seen twice—first in innocence, and then in wisdom. The wise do not mourn the fading of years; they rejoice in the quiet return to the simplicity of truth. As Erasmus reminds us, to live well is to end as we began: in peace, in wonder, and in love.