Let me ask you something—something vast, almost impossible to hold in the palm of your mind.
How many human beings do you think have ever walked this Earth?
Go on—take a wild guess.
The best estimate we have is this: around **one hundred billion** Homo sapiens—people like you, people like me—have wandered across this spinning blue planet. Each one utterly unique, a single note in an eternal symphony. And yet, out of that hundred billion, only about eight billion still walk among us. The rest have stepped beyond the horizon.
And unless you've stumbled upon the secret to eternal youth in your garage, that horizon awaits you and me as well. With a few exceptions, anyone born more than a century ago has already moved on. Even the most spirited Victorian jogger has long since hung up their running shoes.
Here lies the truth—Death is the one universal truth that we all share. We hide it under blankets, in the shadows of busy days, behind the clutter of our calendars—because to gaze at it directly can be like staring into the sun: dazzling, searing, and a little terrifying. Yet it remains—the most predictable moment of life is its end. We do not know how, we do not know when, but we know it is coming.
Stick with me, I promise this isn't all gloom and doom. Although, it's going to get a little bumpier before it gets better.
And here's the other truth— if we do not die young, we grow old.
Now, don't be fooled by the sprightly 90-year-old salsa dancer or the octogenarian on a motorcycle—they're exceptions, not the rule. Life expectancy isn't a personal guarantee, it's a population average. But thanks to our confirmation bias, we hold onto those uplifting images and convince ourselves, old age is a charming, slow waltz into the sunset. In reality, for most (even the wealthy), it's more of a shuffle—with creaks, leaks, and the occasional existential crisis. And yet, we _want_ more of it. Why? Let's ponder.
The poets call it autumn; science calls it **senescence**—the gradual wearing down of the exquisite systems that keep us alive. Our muscles tire. Our memory blurs. Our cells, once full of youthful fire, begin to yield to the quiet work of time. But here's the marvel—aging is no longer just a poetic metaphor; it is a mystery science is learning to read. **Gerontology**, the study of aging, peers into this Biological and psychosocial process, searching for the threads that weave our journey from vitality to fragility.
At its heart lies a force as old as the universe, the science calls it **entropy**—the universe's cyclical drift from order into disorder. As embryos, our cells divide like eager little overachievers, building up potential energy to create a whole, functional human. But once the masterpiece is complete, entropy begins its patient dismantling. The ice- cream in the freezer holds its shape—until the power fades. Then the edges blur, the structure loosens, and what was once solid, begins to soften into formlessness. Slowly, surely, energy dissipates. Randomness increases. And the slow unravelling begins.
Each multicellular organism, using energy from the sun, is able to develop and maintain its identity for only so long. Then deterioration prevails over synthesis, the organism ages, and then eventually dies. In the end, entropy always wins—but that doesn't mean we can't play a beautiful, meaningful game before the final whistle.
If we can slow down entropy—if we can hold onto that youthful potential energy just a little longer—we can age more gracefully. The key is not in chasing eternal youth through products, scalpels, and potions—they offer only the illusion of permanence. No, the key lies in two living arts: **physical agility** and **mental agility**.
Mental agility—described by neuroscientists and cherished by Zen masters—is the ability to keep the mind supple, to shift between perspectives with the grace of a dancer changing steps. It is the **beginner's mind**—the childlike curiosity that sees possibility everywhere. But our modern world, with its algorithms, routines, and relentless specialization, has starved this curiosity. As our expertise deepens, our openness narrows. In a beginner's mind there are infinite possibilities; in an expert's mind, only a few. And with each narrowing, entropy sets in, accelerating the aging.
Stress is another silent thief—keeping the body in the clenched fist of fight-or-flight, flooding it with cortisol, fraying the edges of our vitality. But stress dissolves in the presence of **meaningful connection**—the kind that makes you feel seen, heard, and understood. Loneliness, on the other hand, amplifies the erosion.
That is why we must build, what I call, an **Inner Circle**—of those with whom we share trust, curiosity, and our undivided attention. The Eastern philosophy of impermanence teaches that nothing is fixed—not our bodies, not our emotions, not even our relationships. Joy is not a constant state; it is a tide. To cling is to suffer. To connect, knowing all is changing, is to taste the sweetness of the moment. Understanding the Aboriginal philosophy of **KanYini,** further deepens this thought. In KanYini—we're each unique, yet bound together in a web of connection with each other, the land and our ever-changing world.
So here is the invitation.
Do not spend your days chasing the shadow of youth. Instead, let your body remain agile. Your mind a beginner, and your heart open to deep connection. Practice KanYini. Cultivate curiosity. Move with grace, in both body and thought. And you will find that even as entropy quietly works its way through you, your days will be filled with vitality, meaning, and a kind of bliss that is untouched by age.
**References:** * Jawad Alzeer. Halalopathy: Role of Entropy in the Aging Process. Am J Biomed Sci & Res. 2022 – 16(2). * Gilbert SF. Developmental Biology. 6th edition. Sunderland (MA): Sinauer Associates; 2000. Aging: The Biology of Senescence. Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK10041/ * _The Source: The Secrets of the Universe, the Science of the Brain_ by Tara Swart * Zen mind, beginners mind- by Shunryu Suzuki, Huston Smith, Richard Baker. Publisher: Shambhala * 'The Good Life: Lessons from the World's Longest Scientific Study of Happiness' by Professor Robert Waldinge