I'm happy to report that my inner child is still ageless. — James Broughton

I'm happy to report that my inner child is still ageless.

Author: James Broughton

Insight: There's something quietly radical about refusing to let your sense of wonder calcify over time. Most of us experience adulthood as a slow hardening—responsibilities pile up, cynicism becomes easier than hope, and somewhere along the way we stop being surprised by things. We trade curiosity for competence. But Broughton's point isn't about being immature or refusing to grow up. It's about preserving something essential that has nothing to do with age. That ageless inner child isn't the part of you that throws tantrums or avoids hard things. It's the part that gets genuinely delighted by small moments, that still asks "why?" about the world, that can be moved by beauty without needing a logical reason. It's the part that plays without calculating the outcome, that finds meaning in things that don't serve any practical purpose. Most adults lose access to this almost by accident, not because they have to. The real work isn't staying young—it's staying interested. It's protecting your capacity to be amazed, to take genuine pleasure in discovery, to approach problems with creative playfulness rather than jaded resignation. That's the actual gift of keeping your inner child alive. Not naivety, but vitality. Not immaturity, but the opposite: the maturity to hold onto what made you feel most alive to begin with.

Wonder Doesn't Have to Expire

I'm happy to report that my inner child is still ageless.

There's something quietly radical about refusing to let your sense of wonder calcify over time. Most of us experience adulthood as a slow hardening—responsibilities pile up, cynicism becomes easier than hope, and somewhere along the way we stop being surprised by things. We trade curiosity for competence. But Broughton's point isn't about being immature or refusing to grow up. It's about preserving something essential that has nothing to do with age.

That ageless inner child isn't the part of you that throws tantrums or avoids hard things. It's the part that gets genuinely delighted by small moments, that still asks "why?" about the world, that can be moved by beauty without needing a logical reason. It's the part that plays without calculating the outcome, that finds meaning in things that don't serve any practical purpose. Most adults lose access to this almost by accident, not because they have to.

The real work isn't staying young—it's staying interested. It's protecting your capacity to be amazed, to take genuine pleasure in discovery, to approach problems with creative playfulness rather than jaded resignation. That's the actual gift of keeping your inner child alive. Not naivety, but vitality. Not immaturity, but the opposite: the maturity to hold onto what made you feel most alive to begin with.

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James Broughton

James Broughton was an American poet, filmmaker, and writer, born on December 10, 1913, in Modesto, California. He is best known for his contributions to the San Francisco Renaissance and for pioneering experimental filmmaking, particularly with his film "The Bed" which is notable for its innovative use of visual poetry. Broughton's work often celebrated themes of love, sexuality, and the human experience, making him a prominent figure in both literary and avant-garde film circles until his death on July 17, 1999.

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