We're learning things every decade we grow through, and

“We’re learning things every decade we grow through, and ultimately, you do end up with a different way of looking at things.” — Florence Pugh

In these gentle yet profound words, Florence Pugh, a voice of grace and introspection in the modern age, speaks of one of life’s most enduring truths — that growth is not a single moment, but a lifelong unfolding. Each decade of our existence, she reminds us, brings with it a new education of the soul. We are not static beings but ever-changing rivers, reshaped by the stones of time and experience. What we once knew with certainty becomes uncertain; what we once feared becomes familiar; what we once resisted becomes understood. The eyes of youth are bright with passion, but the eyes of age are deep with vision. Pugh’s reflection is a hymn to the quiet miracle of evolution, not of the body alone, but of perception — the awakening of wisdom through the passage of years.

The origin of this quote lies in the reflective heart of an artist who has already lived many lives within her art. As an actress, Florence Pugh has embodied characters across ages, cultures, and temperaments, and through them, has come to see that life itself is a kind of performance — not falsehood, but transformation. With each role, each decade, each trial, she has learned that understanding is never complete. What we grasp at twenty feels naive at thirty; what we believe at forty may crumble at fifty, only to be rebuilt on stronger ground. Pugh’s wisdom springs from humility — the awareness that to live is to learn, and to learn is to change.

The ancients would have revered such wisdom. In the philosophy of Heraclitus, all of life was seen as flux — the river that flows and never remains the same. He taught that we are not the same person we were yesterday, for the flow of experience alters us continually. Likewise, the sage Confucius said that by the time a man reaches seventy, he can follow his heart’s desire without transgressing what is right — not because he suddenly learned the law, but because through decades of learning, life and virtue had become one within him. So too does Pugh’s reflection echo this ancient understanding: that time itself is the greatest teacher, and that every decade carves a new layer of insight into the human heart.

Consider the journey of Nelson Mandela, who entered prison as a fiery young revolutionary and emerged, twenty-seven years later, a statesman of extraordinary peace. The learning he endured was not of books, but of patience, suffering, and endurance. When he was young, he saw change only through struggle; when he was older, he saw that true change also requires compassion. He did not abandon his ideals — he deepened them. His life became proof that every decade of growth brings not only knowledge, but a different way of looking at things — one more spacious, more understanding, more attuned to the human spirit.

Florence Pugh’s words carry within them a subtle tenderness — the understanding that self-discovery is not achieved once and for all, but renewed again and again. Each season of life brings new lessons: the twenties, when we learn who we are; the thirties, when we learn who we are not; the forties, when we learn to accept both. Each decade is a dialogue between the past and the present self, and in that dialogue, we find wisdom. We begin to see that the mistakes we once cursed were teachers, and that the wounds we once hid were gateways to empathy.

There is, too, a liberation in her words. For they remind us that it is natural — even beautiful — to change our minds, to evolve beyond what once defined us. The ancients called this metanoia — the turning of the soul toward new understanding. Too often, the world demands consistency, but the spirit of growth demands freedom. To learn is to shed old skin. To see differently is not to betray who we were, but to honor how far we have come. The oak tree does not apologize for being no longer an acorn; it simply stands tall, its rings of age the record of its journey.

So, dear seeker, take this wisdom into your own heart: do not fear the passage of time, nor the changing of your thoughts. Each decade you live is a classroom, each experience a teacher. Embrace the lessons of your youth, but do not cling to them; welcome the insights of maturity, but do not harden in them. Keep learning about life, and more importantly, keep learning about yourself. For as Florence Pugh so beautifully reminds us, the greatest treasure of growing older is not the years themselves, but the widening of the soul’s vision — the ability to see life, and oneself, with ever-deepening grace, compassion, and truth.