It takes a long time to become young. — Pablo Picasso
—What lingers after this line?
One-minute reflection
Why might this line matter today, not tomorrow?
Youth as a Destination, Not a Starting Point
Picasso’s line flips the usual story of aging: instead of youth being something we naturally possess and then lose, he frames it as something we arrive at. In this view, “young” isn’t merely an age but a quality of attention—curiosity, openness, and responsiveness to the world. The paradox hints that what looks like effortless youthful vitality may actually be the product of years of living, failing, and recalibrating. From the outset, the quote invites a distinction between being young in years and being young in spirit. A child may have energy, but the kind of youth Picasso points to often includes a deliberate lightness that only emerges after one has carried, and then learned to set down, unnecessary weight.
Unlearning: The Slow Work Behind Fresh Eyes
If becoming young takes time, it is partly because adults accumulate habits of thought—cynicism, caution, and fixed identities—that make perception rigid. Becoming “young” again can mean unlearning those reflexes and recovering the ability to be surprised. That recovery rarely happens quickly; it comes through repeated encounters with change that force us to revise what we thought we knew. This connects to a wider idea in philosophy: many traditions treat wisdom not as adding more knowledge but as removing illusions. In that sense, youthfulness can be the clarity that appears after simplification—when you stop performing who you think you must be and return to what genuinely interests you.
Artistic Practice and the Return to Play
The quote gains extra resonance coming from Picasso, whose career shows a continual reinvention of style. Artists often spend years mastering technique, only to later pursue work that looks simpler, freer, even childlike. That “childlike” quality, however, is frequently the end point of long discipline—what many viewers mistake for spontaneity is supported by hard-won control. Seen this way, becoming young is the return to play after competence. You learn the rules, internalize them, and then—only then—can you bend them without collapsing into chaos. The apparent innocence is not naïveté; it is practiced freedom.
Aging, Identity, and the Courage to Change
As time passes, people often lock themselves into stories about who they are: the responsible one, the realist, the person who doesn’t take risks. Yet life repeatedly demonstrates that identities are provisional. Ironically, it can take decades to gain the courage to revise your self-concept—to try something new without needing permission or guarantees. Therefore, youth in Picasso’s sense may be less about reclaiming the past and more about reclaiming flexibility. It is the ability to pivot, to start again, and to admit you were wrong without feeling diminished—an emotional agility that many people only develop after enduring enough setbacks to realize that reinvention is survivable.
Joy After Grief: Lightness Earned, Not Given
Another reason becoming young takes a long time is that genuine lightness often follows hardship. Early in life, joy can be untested; later, it can become intentional. People who have faced loss sometimes describe a renewed appreciation for ordinary moments—a walk, a conversation, a meal—because they understand how quickly things change. In this progression, youthfulness looks like the ability to feel fully without being permanently hardened by pain. It is not denial but restoration: choosing tenderness, humor, and presence after experience has given you many reasons to withdraw.
Practical Ways to ‘Become Young’ Over Time
Ultimately, Picasso’s sentence reads like an invitation: treat youth as a practice. You cultivate it by staying curious—learning new skills, talking to people outside your circle, traveling if possible, or simply changing your routine enough to notice your environment again. Just as importantly, you protect it by reducing what dulls perception: constant distraction, chronic overwork, and relationships that punish honesty. Over time, these small choices accumulate into a recognizable stance toward life. The “long time” is not a lament; it’s the point. Youth, understood as aliveness and creative attention, may be one of the few gifts that deepens precisely because it is earned.