A playful reflection on age, identity, and the invisible rules we accept without questioning. Through her personal tradition of “growing younger” each birthday, Jurate explores how limiting beliefs can quietly shape what we think is still possible for us. The deeper question is simple: which limits are real—and which ones have we merely been taught to believe?
This reflection explores how deeply attached we can become to our beliefs—and how difficult it is to admit that no one may have the whole picture. Looking beyond political and ideological divisions, it argues that most people ultimately want the same things: love, health, prosperity, peace, and a better future for their children. It also introduces collective intelligence as a way to move beyond labels and search for solutions that can work for everyone.
In this personal and thought-provoking Editorial, J.B. Gattini reflects on a childhood shaped by Soviet indoctrination and the lessons it taught her about how beliefs are formed. With humor and curiosity, she invites readers to ask a simple but powerful question: Who told you that?
Have you heard the saying that young people know everything, middle-aged people trust nothing, and older people believe everything?
I am not sure who came up with it, but lately I have been thinking that perhaps it needs a small correction.
The longer I am on this planet, the more I learn, the more I experience, and the more people I meet, the easier it becomes for me to admit something that would have horrified my younger self:
I don’t know everything.
Before we begin trying to enlighten humanity, perhaps we should acknowledge one small complication:
Humanity already has quite a lot of opinions.
Some of us are certain science has all the answers. Others are equally certain spirituality does. Some trust institutions, some question everything, and a few of us have reached the highly advanced spiritual state of arguing with strangers on the Internet before breakfast.
So perhaps enlightenment should begin with something simple:
curiosity.
A playful reflection on age, identity, and the invisible rules we accept without questioning. Through her personal tradition of “growing younger” each birthday, Jurate explores how limiting beliefs can quietly shape what we think is still possible for us. The deeper question is simple: which limits are real—and which ones have we merely been taught to believe?
This reflection explores how deeply attached we can become to our beliefs—and how difficult it is to admit that no one may have the whole picture. Looking beyond political and ideological divisions, it argues that most people ultimately want the same things: love, health, prosperity, peace, and a better future for their children. It also introduces collective intelligence as a way to move beyond labels and search for solutions that can work for everyone.
In this personal and thought-provoking Editorial, J.B. Gattini reflects on a childhood shaped by Soviet indoctrination and the lessons it taught her about how beliefs are formed. With humor and curiosity, she invites readers to ask a simple but powerful question: Who told you that?
Have you heard the saying that young people know everything, middle-aged people trust nothing, and older people believe everything?
I am not sure who came up with it, but lately I have been thinking that perhaps it needs a small correction.
The longer I am on this planet, the more I learn, the more I experience, and the more people I meet, the easier it becomes for me to admit something that would have horrified my younger self:
I don’t know everything.
Before we begin trying to enlighten humanity, perhaps we should acknowledge one small complication:
Humanity already has quite a lot of opinions.
Some of us are certain science has all the answers. Others are equally certain spirituality does. Some trust institutions, some question everything, and a few of us have reached the highly advanced spiritual state of arguing with strangers on the Internet before breakfast.
So perhaps enlightenment should begin with something simple:
curiosity.
