There is a beautiful poetry in youth.

The younger we are, the more likely we are to be fearless, to try new things, and to imagine ourselves as more than we currently are. And perhaps that’s a big part of how we become more than we are. We first have to believe that we can.

There is something wonderful about that kind of audacity. It allows us to reach beyond what we know, to attempt things that experience might otherwise convince us are impossible.

But there is another side to it.

At any age, we don’t know what we don’t know. And sometimes our blindness to this leads us to reach for things we aren’t quite ready for, only to feel as though the universe has somehow slighted us when we fall short.

Of course, that’s often our ego trying to justify the story it told us about ourselves.

I’ve been thinking about this while studying Shakespeare and Marcus Aurelius, two very different voices separated by centuries, yet both with something to say about ambition, experience, and the stories we tell ourselves.

In Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1, we meet Prince Hal, a young man seemingly more interested in taverns and mischief than the responsibilities awaiting him. Yet Hal understands that there is another version of himself, one he intends to become. His transformation, which continues through Henry IV, Part 2 and Henry V, is not simply a matter of believing he can be a king. He must eventually accept the responsibility of becoming one.

I find something compelling in that distinction. Imagining who we might become is one thing. Doing the work, making the mistakes, and growing into that person is quite another.

Marcus Aurelius approaches the same human challenge from a different direction. In Meditations, Book 6, Section 21, he reminds himself to welcome correction when someone can show him that his thinking or actions are mistaken. His concern isn’t with defending the story he has told himself, but with getting closer to what is true.

And perhaps that’s where ego becomes our greatest obstacle.

When we’re young, our confidence can carry us into places our experience hasn’t prepared us for. Sometimes we succeed precisely because we didn’t know enough to be afraid. Other times we fall short, and rather than questioning our expectations, we question the fairness of the world.

I’ve certainly seen how easy it is to confuse believing in our potential with believing we’re somehow entitled to the outcome.

But I wonder if growing older and becoming wiser isn’t so much about losing that youthful audacity as learning to carry it differently.

To remain curious enough to attempt things we haven’t mastered. To be ambitious enough to imagine ourselves beyond our present circumstances. But also humble enough to recognize when we have more to learn.

There’s a balance here that I think is worth pursuing. Too much confidence without reflection becomes arrogance. Too much experience without curiosity can become caution, and eventually resignation.

Perhaps the real trick is to hold on to the courage of our younger selves while developing the judgment to recognize when our ego is getting in the way.

To keep reaching, knowing that falling short isn’t necessarily a failure or an injustice. Sometimes it’s simply the distance between who we imagine ourselves to be and who we have yet to become.

And perhaps that distance is where much of life’s growth takes place.

Better is a direction.