When I look back and think about how I played when I was 16, and

The master guitarist John Petrucci, whose fingers have long commanded the strings with both fire and precision, once spoke with humble wisdom: “When I look back and think about how I played when I was 16, and moving on to my 20s, 30s, 40s and now 50s — to me, it seems like you gain more experience, you gain more technique, you get better.” These words, born from a lifetime of music, are not only about the art of guitar, but about the art of living. They reveal the eternal truth that growth is not bound to youth, but is the steady harvest of discipline, patience, and time.

To gain more experience is to drink deeply from the river of life. At sixteen, one may have raw talent, fiery passion, and boundless energy, but experience is yet shallow. With each decade, each trial, each triumph, the waters deepen. Experience refines what passion alone cannot. It turns impulse into wisdom, and reckless ambition into steady mastery. Petrucci’s reflection reminds us that age is not decline, but a gathering of strength unseen by the eyes of youth.

To gain more technique is to understand that skill grows not merely from desire, but from countless hours of practice, failure, and refinement. The young artist may dazzle with speed, but the mature artist commands the subtlety of touch, the nuance of silence, the weight of expression. Technique is not gifted overnight — it is forged like iron in the fires of persistence. Petrucci himself embodies this: decades of discipline transforming him into one of the most respected musicians of his generation.

History echoes this lesson. Consider the life of Leonardo da Vinci. In his youth, his works were bold, bursting with imagination but not yet perfected. As he grew older, his technique deepened, his mastery became unmatched, and his creations — from The Last Supper to his detailed sketches of anatomy — bore the unmistakable mark of accumulated wisdom. Like Petrucci, Leonardo proved that with the passing of years, one may not weaken, but instead grow ever better, if they remain faithful to their craft.

Petrucci’s words carry another layer of truth: the path of mastery is endless. At fifty, he speaks not as one who has “arrived,” but as one who continues to get better. This humility reveals the secret of greatness: the refusal to believe that the journey is finished. The one who believes he has nothing left to learn has already begun to fade; the one who knows there is always more will shine brighter with each passing year.

The lesson for us is profound: do not fear the passing of time. Welcome each season of life as a new teacher. In youth, embrace passion; in adulthood, cultivate discipline; in maturity, harvest wisdom. Do not compare your present to your past with despair, but with gratitude that you are deeper, sharper, stronger now than you once were. For as Petrucci reminds us, time does not rob you if you use it well — it gives you experience, technique, and growth.

Practical wisdom follows: whatever your craft, your labor, or your calling, give yourself to it daily. Let each mistake become instruction, each failure a stepping stone. Do not abandon your journey because you are no longer young; instead, rededicate yourself, for mastery belongs to those who endure. Remember that life is not a race to early brilliance, but a lifelong composition — one where every note, every decade, adds depth to the song of your soul.

So remember, O listener, the words of John Petrucci: “You gain more experience, you gain more technique, you get better.” Let them remind you that growth is eternal, that age is not your enemy, but your ally, if you honor the time given to you. Walk steadily, practice faithfully, live humbly — and in the end, your life will not diminish with years, but will resound like a symphony, richer and more powerful with every passing age.