With age, you see people fail more. You see yourself fail more.

“With age, you see people fail more. You see yourself fail more. How do you keep that fearlessness of a kid? You keep going. Luckily, I'm not afraid to make a fool of myself.”
So spoke Hugh Jackman, a man known not only for his strength upon the stage and screen but for the humility of his spirit. In his words, there lies an eternal question—how to remain fearless when life itself teaches fear, how to walk boldly when experience whispers caution. The young leap without hesitation, their hearts unscarred by disappointment; but as the years unfold, the weight of failure grows heavier upon the soul. Jackman’s wisdom reminds us that the only path through this burden is persistence, and the courage to laugh even at one’s own mistakes.

In the days of youth, the world is boundless. Every dream seems possible, every mountain climbable. But with age, we begin to see the cracks—the plans that faltered, the hopes that faded, the people who gave up along the way. The child’s eyes, bright with wonder, learn to dim beneath the glare of failure. Yet it is precisely here, in the gathering shadows of disappointment, that the true test of the spirit begins. To be fearless as a child is instinct; to be fearless as an adult is mastery. For the seasoned soul who still dares to try, even after falling, possesses a courage far deeper than the one who has never fallen at all.

History has sung of such courage. Consider the tale of Thomas Edison, who failed not once or twice but thousands of times before the light finally shone from his invention. When asked about his failures, he said, “I have not failed. I’ve just found ten thousand ways that won’t work.” This is the essence of Jackman’s truth. To live unafraid of failure is not to ignore it, but to befriend it, to wear one’s foolishness as a crown rather than a chain. The fool who dares to act becomes the master in time, while the wise man who fears humiliation becomes the ghost of his own potential.

The ancients understood this paradox. In the myths of Greece, Icarus fell because he flew too close to the sun—but still, he flew. Better the one who soars and falls in flame than the one who never leaves the ground. The gods favored those who lived with boldness, not timidity. In the same way, Jackman’s words call us to live unashamedly, to risk failure for the sake of motion, for life itself is movement. To “keep going” is not the counsel of naivety; it is the battle cry of the eternal learner.

And what is this foolishness he speaks of? It is the freedom to try, to experiment, to sing even when one’s voice trembles. In the art of living, as in the art of acting, perfection is not the goal—authenticity is. To make a fool of oneself is to declare, “I am alive enough to risk error.” The timid seek dignity through control, but the fearless find it in surrender. Every great artist, every inventor, every saint has known the taste of ridicule. They were called mad, delusional, misguided—but it is their “foolishness” that shaped the world.

There is also a gentleness in Jackman’s insight—a reminder that failure is not our enemy, but our tutor. It humbles us, tempers us, teaches compassion. The man who has failed often becomes kinder, for he recognizes the fragility of all striving. Fearlessness, then, does not mean arrogance; it means grace. To fail and rise again, smiling, is to have understood the nature of existence. Every fall is a bow to the universe, every recovery a resurrection.

So, children of time, take this wisdom and guard it well: do not let age rob you of your daring, nor failure of your laughter. Keep the heart of the child within the mind of the sage. When fear whispers that you have tried too often, answer it with movement. When others laugh, laugh louder still. For the one who is unafraid to look foolish becomes the one who creates, who inspires, who lives fully before the dusk.

Practical teaching: Each day, do one thing that risks failure. Speak a truth, learn a skill, dream a dream too large. When you stumble, smile at your own imperfection. Remember Hugh Jackman’s wisdom: the fearless heart does not seek to avoid falling—it seeks to rise, again and again, until life itself bows in admiration.