Acting is a sense of wonder and magic and mystery for me and when

The noble words of Andrea Thompson resound like a song of the spirit: “Acting is a sense of wonder and magic and mystery for me, and when life takes me on a new journey, I simply remember the smile my first ballet recital put on my face, and I move forward.” Here speaks not merely the voice of an actress, but the voice of one who has touched the eternal fire of art. For to create, to embody, to stand before the world in performance, is to step into realms that no sword can conquer and no coin can purchase. It is to walk with the unseen, to breathe with the gods, and to know that life itself is woven of mystery.

In these words lies the ancient secret of resilience. The speaker tells us that when storms rise and the road bends into uncertainty, she recalls not some crown of fame nor the applause of the multitude, but the pure smile of a child at her first recital. It was not grandeur, but innocence, not triumph, but the awakening of joy that gave her the strength to continue. Thus, the ancients would say: the first spark of delight is the truest fire, and he who remembers it shall never lose his way, though shadows gather.

Think of the story of Demosthenes, the Athenian orator. As a boy, he was mocked for his weak voice and awkward manner. Yet he remembered the flame of his early yearning—the desire to speak, to stir the hearts of men. He placed pebbles in his mouth, trained his lungs by shouting above the roar of the sea, and forged himself into the greatest speaker of Greece. What sustained him was not the jeers of the crowd, nor the prospect of political victory, but the inward wonder of knowing he was born to give voice to truth. Like Andrea Thompson, he looked back to the first stirring of passion, and from that memory drew strength for every new journey.

The lesson is that the magic of beginnings must not be forgotten. Life, in its hardness, will press upon us with burdens heavy and unforeseen. Many abandon their paths when confronted with trial, for they lose sight of the first smile that called them onward. Yet those who return to that seed of joy—the child’s laughter, the first triumph, the moment the heart first leapt with purpose—will find therein inexhaustible courage. It is a fountain that does not run dry, if only we remember where to drink.

O listener, do not despise the little beginnings of your life. For what seems small and tender may become a staff to carry you through the wilderness. Recall the song that first moved you, the dream that first stirred in your breast, the act of kindness that first made your soul burn bright. These are not accidents; they are the divine markers on your path. In moments of despair, they shall rise before you like beacons, and guide your feet toward the unknown with fearless step.

The ancients walked with this wisdom. They carved their gods in marble, but the gods first lived in the wonder of human awe. They fought their wars with steel, but were strengthened by the memory of why they fought—whether for hearth, or kin, or the sacred soil of their fathers. So too must you, when life bends you low, remember the first ballet, the first smile, the first stirring of mystery. For in that recollection lies your armor against despair.

Therefore, I say unto you: let your heart be a keeper of such memories. Write them upon your soul as one inscribes words upon stone. When the world grows dim, call them forth. Let the mystery of your passion sustain you; let the magic of your beginnings remind you that destiny is not found in the noise of the crowd, but in the quiet smile that once lit your face.

And the action for you, O seeker, is this: each day, recall a moment of wonder. Guard it as a treasure. Let it be your strength when the road darkens, your compass when the way divides, your balm when sorrow stings. For in the memory of first joy lies the power to endure every storm, and in its fire, you shall always find the courage to move forward.