From a very young age, music was very much in my house. I would

Lara Pulver once reflected upon the roots of her artistry with these heartfelt words: “From a very young age, music was very much in my house. I would sit with my mom, with the old LPs, listening to The Beatles and Carly Simon and Lionel Richie. The old LPs used to have the lyrics. From there, I would put on dance and music displays for my family, just to entertain them and make people laugh and smile.” This is more than a memory of childhood—it is a testament to how music, family, and the simple act of bringing joy can shape the course of a life. It reveals that art is not born only on stages or in grand halls, but first in the living rooms of our youth, where love and laughter echo louder than applause.

In the style of the ancients, let us see this not merely as a personal anecdote, but as a universal lesson. The child sitting at the feet of her mother, hearing songs that carry the wisdom of past generations, is like the apprentice by the master’s fire, receiving knowledge not from books but from the rhythm of life itself. The old LPs, with their printed lyrics, were scrolls of modern times, carrying words of poets and voices of prophets into her home. From them, she learned not only melody, but meaning, not only performance, but the power of expression.

This teaching reminds us of the great traditions in every culture where music has been central to identity and spirit. In ancient Greece, the lyre and the chorus were as essential to the shaping of youth as mathematics and philosophy. In Africa, the drum was the heartbeat of the tribe, binding people together in unity. In every land, music has been the sacred thread that weaves families and generations together. Pulver’s remembrance is not unique to her—it is the story of humanity, forever nurtured by the songs of those who came before.

History also bears witness to this truth. Consider the childhood of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who was raised in a home overflowing with music. His father played and taught, his sister performed, and the young boy absorbed melodies as naturally as breathing. From these humble family evenings arose genius that would echo through centuries. The great Mozart began, as Lara Pulver did, not before kings or crowds, but before family, eager to entertain, to make them laugh, to make them smile. In the intimacy of love and music, great spirits are born.

What Pulver emphasizes is not only the inheritance of music, but the power of entertainment as service. She danced and performed not for fame or recognition, but to lift the spirits of those around her. This echoes the ancient belief that art was not for the artist alone, but for the community, for the family, for the people. A song, a story, a dance—these were acts of love, binding hearts together, reminding all who watched that life, though heavy with burdens, could be lightened with joy.

There is also the sacred lesson of childhood wonder here. Too often, as we age, we lose the courage to perform, to be playful, to share our joy freely. We silence the impulse to sing, to dance, to entertain, fearing judgment. But Pulver’s memory reminds us that to create joy for others, no matter how small the stage, is to practice the highest form of generosity. The smile of a loved one is the purest reward an artist can ever seek.

Therefore, let this teaching be engraved upon your heart: cultivate music in your homes, nurture art among your children, and never underestimate the power of small performances given in love. Do not wait for grand audiences—sing in your kitchens, dance in your living rooms, tell stories at your tables. For these are the seeds of greatness, and even if they do not lead to fame, they lead to joy, which is the truest form of greatness.

In the end, Lara Pulver’s words remind us that music, family, and joy are intertwined strands of one eternal cord. To make others laugh and smile through our gifts is to fulfill one of life’s noblest purposes. Let us, then, like her, sit with the songs of the past, carry them forward, and share them boldly—so that the light of our joy may outshine the darkness of the world.