It was George Bernard Shaw, the Irish playwright and critic, who originally wrote:
“Youth is wasted on the young”.
However, variations on this sentiment have been expressed over the years by various authors and public figures, along the lines that young people often do not fully appreciate or take advantage of their youth and the opportunities it offers.
I wonder how we would define ‘young’, or indeed ‘old’ for that matter? I don’t think I’ll try; after all, we all know young people who are ‘old’ in outlook, and vice-versa.
Ask any retired person how they’re finding life, and a great many will tell you that there just aren’t enough hours in the day. How did they ever manage to fit work in? The difference, of course, is that life is now full of things which they largely want to do, whereas before retirement it was largely full of work and there was limited room for anything else.
The other thing that old people will tell you is that time is flying past. The days, weeks and months just seem to fly by at a rate they never did before, and they frequently just want to say “Whoa, slow down a bit!”.
As somebody who is technically in the ‘old’ category, i.e. retired and receiving a state pension (but who doesn’t feel remotely old), I nevertheless sometimes find myself looking back and reflecting on George Bernard Shaw’s words.
Some have described Shaw’s words as ‘derogatory’ (mostly younger people, it must be said), though I personally can’t see anything derogatory in them. However, Shaw at a later date went on to expound on his words, adding that “they’re brainless, and don’t know what they have; they squander every opportunity of being young, on being young.” Now that IS derogatory; he would have been better leaving his original words as they were.
Another quality which accompanies getting older is a greater appreciation of things, which comes with maturity. I’m not saying that young people can’t appreciate things, but there’s no doubt that as you get older, this appreciation grows. Fortunately I’ve still got a good number of years to go (hopefully) but I’m nevertheless aware that my days are ultimately numbered (and the older you get, the more aware of your mortality you invariably become) and I want to make the most of every single day. We can’t escape from the fact that the average life expectancy in the UK is about 78/79 for males and 82/83 females, and there comes a point in life where this becomes less theoretical and more significant.
Getting older also means that for many people they don’t choose to take risks in the way they did when they were younger; appreciating life itself is as important as appreciating the smaller things in life.
Which leads us to another quote:
“Live each day as if it was your last”.
This has been attributed to a number of people, including Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius and, more latterly, Mahatma Gandhi. Frankly, I wouldn’t want to do that, I’d be exhausted after a few days, but the sentiment is a valuable one.
So where does Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) come into all of this?
As someone who spends hundreds of hours a year on the mountain, I often find myself pondering on philosophical issues like this while I’m out there. Yr Wyddfa is an awesome and spectacular mountain (see our page on ‘Why so popular?’ for more on this), and despite how many times I’ve been up it, my appreciation of it only grows. If you don’t feel like that about Yr Wyddfa because, for instance, the weather was poor and you saw nothing, then you need to come back in better conditions. And if the crowds don’t leave you feeling appreciative either, again you need to come back at a quieter time; many is the time when I’ve had the summit to myself. And then you need to walk all the main paths – preferably several times, and through the various seasons – and then you’ll see how nobody could have ever designed a better mountain.
The view from the summit. Unbeatable.
And if you’re relatively young and had an absolutely amazing day on Yr Wyddfa, you should aim to come back again when you’re much older, and you’ll enjoy and appreciate it even more, and experience it on a new level. (I know many people in their 60s and 70s who regularly walk up Yr Wyddfa, so don’t think that you’re running out of time!)
So would I turn back the clock if I could? Maybe a few years, but certainly not back to my youth. I’ve never been as appreciative of life as I am now, and even though I may not be quite as fit as I was when I was younger, the answer is still a resounding no.
Conversely to Shaw’s words, Mark Twain wrote:
“It is better to be a young June-bug than an old bird of paradise.”
I’m not so sure about that. The young might strive for paradise; us oldies don’t.