Thirty was so strange for me. I've really had to come to terms

Hear me, O children of the world, for the words of C. S. Lewis strike at the heart of the human experience, a truth that many face with both hesitation and reluctance: “Thirty was so strange for me. I’ve really had to come to terms with the fact that I am now a walking and talking adult.” In these words, Lewis reveals the deep truth of a moment in life that often passes unnoticed but is felt by the soul with great weight. Thirty, that threshold between youth and adulthood, brings with it not just the passing of time, but a profound realization—a realization that one is no longer a child, no longer simply drifting through life, but is now fully responsible for one’s actions, choices, and destiny.

In the days of the ancients, the passage from youth into adulthood was a rite of passage, often marked by rituals, ceremonies, and trials that would forge a person into the fullness of their being. The Greeks, in particular, had a deep understanding of this transition. For them, adulthood was not simply a matter of age but of wisdom, purpose, and responsibility. Plato, in his dialogues, often discussed the importance of maturity, not just in years, but in the development of the mind and the soul. The ancients believed that one’s true purpose in life could not be fulfilled until they had embraced their role as an adult—someone who takes the burden of knowledge and action upon themselves, someone who takes responsibility for the world around them.

Consider the example of Socrates, whose life was marked by a continuous quest for wisdom and self-discovery. Socrates, though known for his wisdom, spent much of his early life in rebellion—challenging the societal norms, questioning authority, and seeking answers to the mysteries of life. But it was only in his later years, when he fully embraced his role as a philosopher and teacher, that he began to truly embody the maturity that the Greeks revered. His role as a guide to others, his acceptance of the responsibility to lead, was the ultimate expression of adulthood in his life. In his case, the transition into adulthood did not mean losing his youthful spirit but rather channeling that energy and curiosity into something far greater—into a life of purpose and service to humanity.

Yet, Lewis’s words also speak to the quiet uncertainty that often accompanies the transition into adulthood. The age of thirty is one that brings both freedom and burden, for it is at this age that one can no longer hide behind the excuse of youthful exuberance and uncertainty. The world begins to demand more, to ask for decisions, commitments, and actions that will define the future. For Lewis, as for many, the realization that he was now a walking and talking adult was a moment of profound awakening—a moment that carried both the excitement of potential and the weight of responsibility. It was a moment that forced him to look into the mirror and face not just his ambitions but also his limitations, not just his dreams but also the reality of the world around him.

This moment of reckoning is not unique to C. S. Lewis, nor is it bound by time or culture. Consider the life of Benjamin Franklin, who, though a man of great ambition and youthful vigor, began his adult life with a deep awareness of the need for responsibility and discipline. By the time Franklin reached his thirties, he had already embarked on the path of self-improvement, constantly refining his character, his habits, and his contributions to the world. Franklin, like Socrates and Plato, recognized that adulthood was not a passive state but an active choice—a choice to accept the burdens of life with grace and resolve, to channel the energy of youth into something far more substantial. In this, Franklin’s life reflects the timeless truth that adulthood is not merely about age, but about purpose, awareness, and accountability.

Thus, Lewis’s words offer us a profound lesson about the nature of growth. The realization that one is no longer a child, no longer merely a dreamer or seeker, but now an adult—a person of action, purpose, and responsibility—is a powerful shift. But it is not a loss of youth’s vigor, as some might think, but a reclamation of its potential in the service of something greater. To be an adult is not to forsake the dreams of youth but to transform them into tangible realities, to take the energy of the child and channel it into a life of meaning and impact.

The true lesson for us, O children of time, is this: do not fear the transition from youth into adulthood, for it is not the end of your passion or energy, but the beginning of its maturity. Embrace the responsibility that comes with age, for it is in that responsibility that your true strength lies. Like Socrates, like Franklin, and like C. S. Lewis, find a way to bring the wisdom of adulthood to bear on your deepest dreams, and allow your soul to evolve into something even greater than what it was in your youth. And remember, in each passing year, that to be an adult is not to grow weary, but to grow deeper, to bring the innocence and wonder of youth into a life of purpose and action.

So, my children, in your own life, embrace the transition into adulthood with open arms. Do not allow the weight of responsibility to stifle the joy of living, but let it guide you into a life filled with meaning, growth, and fulfillment. The journey from youth to adulthood is not a journey of loss but one of renewal—the renewal of dreams into actions, the renewal of curiosity into wisdom. Carry both the innocence of the child and the strength of the adult with you, and in this, you will find the true power of both.