You get a zero at the end of your age number, and you get some

When Chick Corea said, “You get a zero at the end of your age number, and you get some extra attention. That’s what I found out,” he spoke with the quiet humor and insight of one who had seen many seasons of life and art. On the surface, his words seem playful — a gentle reflection on birthdays ending in zero: 30, 40, 50, 60 — those milestones that make the world pause and look your way. But beneath the lightness, there lies a deeper wisdom: the recognition that age is not merely a count of years, but a rhythm of attention, a moment when the world reminds us to reflect upon our journey, even as we continue to create.

Corea’s tone is that of the sage musician, who understands that time, like music, moves in repeating cycles — crescendos and rests, highs and lows, moments of spotlight and moments of silence. The zero, in his observation, symbolizes both completion and renewal. Each decade marks an ending and a beginning, a point where one stands between what has been and what is yet to come. It is the circle within the number — the zero itself — that carries the secret: it is both empty and infinite, both a void and a promise. Corea, ever the artist of improvisation, saw in this not vanity but opportunity — a reminder that life, like jazz, gives us a fresh note to play with every new turn.

The meaning of his words deepens when one remembers the man behind them. Chick Corea, a master of creativity, lived not as one chasing the applause of the moment, but as one in dialogue with time itself. Through the decades, from his youthful collaborations with Miles Davis to his final compositions, Corea reinvented his sound again and again. The world celebrated him most loudly at those “zero years,” those milestones when society loves to honor endurance. Yet Corea’s lesson was not about waiting for recognition — it was about realizing that attention comes and goes like applause, but the true artist plays on, unaffected.

In the ancient world, the philosophers taught that time is a circle, not a line. The Stoics believed that every ten years, the soul revisits its own reflection — a reckoning with self, a rebalancing of purpose. Chick Corea’s words echo that same truth: that each cycle brings its own awakening. The “extra attention” that comes with a milestone birthday is not just from others — it is the attention of the self, a rare moment when we stop the rushing of life to ask, Who have I become? What still burns within me? It is in these pauses that growth takes root and wisdom deepens.

Consider the story of Leonardo da Vinci, who at fifty believed he had reached the summit of his art, only to begin anew — turning his genius from painting toward anatomy, engineering, and philosophy. The world marveled at him again and again, at each “zero” that marked his years, but Leonardo did not measure his worth by celebration. Like Corea, he understood that attention is fleeting, but curiosity is eternal. The true artist — the true human being — never retires from wonder. The world may grant attention in cycles, but the inner fire must never wait for its permission to burn.

The origin of Corea’s quote is found in his reflection on aging and legacy — spoken with the humor of one who had received praise not just for his music, but for his endurance. To him, the “zero years” were not about vanity, but about perspective. He knew that the attention others gave was a reflection of time’s passing, not of his worth. He smiled at it, accepted it, and returned to the piano. That humility is the mark of wisdom — the understanding that recognition is only a passing note in the larger melody of life.

So let this be the teaching: Do not live for the years that end in zero; live for the music between them. The applause may come and go, but what matters is the song you continue to play, the work you continue to create, the love you continue to give. The world will always pause to honor milestones, but the truly awakened soul honors each day as a turning point. Like Corea, we must meet each “zero” not as an ending, but as an invitation — to reinvent, to renew, to return to the rhythm of our purpose.

And when your next “zero year” arrives, remember this wisdom: attention is a passing wind, but meaning is the melody you play for yourself. Smile at the world’s recognition, but do not depend upon it. Continue your work with joy, for the cycle will come again, and once more you will find — as Chick Corea did — that the music within you has no age, and the spirit of creation, like the circle itself, is infinite.