Maturity is often spoken of as a destination, a point in time when we are finally “ready” or “grown.” But in truth, maturity is less of a finish line and more of a mirror. It reflects us as we approach it, revealing not just what we’ve become, but also the shape of our thoughts, values, and internal structures.
The phrase “when we get close to mature, mature gets close to its” implies a kind of feedback loop. As we edge closer to what we believe maturity to be, the very idea of maturity reshapes itself in response. It is not fixed. What we see as mature at 18 will be dismissed at 30. What we see as wisdom at 40 might be humility at 70. Maturity shifts because we shift.
This concept suggests that maturity is not a singular state. It is relational. It requires both time and perspective. You grow, and the definition of growth stretches. You learn restraint, and suddenly the mark of maturity is not restraint but discernment. You master control, and now maturity means letting go. It never settles because neither do we.
Another way to view this is through the lens of identity. As we near what we thought maturity was—perhaps stability, emotional intelligence, or wisdom—we often discover that those qualities were placeholders for something deeper. As we step into maturity, it steps forward too, demanding more nuance, more contradiction, more grace. You never fully hold it; it keeps moving just beyond the version you believed in yesterday.
This dynamic keeps us from complacency. It prevents false arrival. True maturity isn’t a title we give ourselves. It’s something we embody in moments, and even those moments evolve. Each time we think we’ve arrived, life tests us with something new. Pain, responsibility, patience, love, or loss—all recalibrate the horizon of maturity.
In essence, when we get close to mature, mature gets close to its own becoming. It is not only that we mature, but that the very idea of maturity must also mature. And in this quiet recursion lies one of life’s most humbling truths: growth never ends.
