I had a very active imagination as a kid, and I was constantly

“I had a very active imagination as a kid, and I was constantly performing, whether I was making money doing it or not, whether it was on a stage in front of 1,000 people or in the living room in front of my family.” Thus spoke Laura Bell Bundy, the actress and singer whose heart has long danced between the worlds of stage and song. In these humble yet radiant words, she reveals a truth older than fame, older even than art itself — that the true spirit of creation does not rise from applause or reward, but from the inner fire of imagination. For the performer who lives only for the stage performs for others, but the one who performs for joy performs for life itself.

In her reflection, Bundy speaks not merely of childhood but of the soul’s first awakening — that sacred age when imagination reigns supreme and the line between the real and the dream dissolves. The child who acts, sings, or tells stories before their family is not pretending; they are becoming. The living room becomes a grand theater, the audience of parents becomes a kingdom, and the spirit learns, through play, the ancient art of expression. This is the beginning of all artistry — not in mastery, but in wonder. For the seed of creativity is planted not in ambition, but in the joy of simply being alive and imagining the world anew.

The ancients revered this quality of the child — the sacred imagination that sees more than what is. The philosopher Plato wrote that the artist is twice removed from reality, for they deal not with what is, but with what might be. Yet what he called illusion, others call creation. For it is the imagination that gives birth to every new idea, every song, every invention. The child who performs before their family is not merely playing — they are communing with the divine power of creation, shaping the unseen into form, the invisible into voice. Thus, Bundy’s youthful performances were not trivial acts, but early expressions of a timeless truth: that the artist is born, not made, and that every act of creation begins in the home of the heart.

Consider, too, the story of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who as a boy performed before emperors and kings, yet began his music long before the world ever heard him. In his childhood home, surrounded by the warmth of family and the echo of piano keys, his imagination was already aflame. He did not play for money, nor for fame, but because he must. His art was a force within him — as natural as breathing, as constant as heartbeat. Like Bundy, he performed wherever there was space to create — whether in the grand halls of Europe or the small rooms of his youth. For the true artist does not wait for the world’s stage; they carry their stage within them.

In this, Bundy’s wisdom is both simple and profound: that the joy of imagination and performance is its own reward. The child who acts out stories for no audience but their own delight understands something many adults forget — that art is not measured by applause, but by authenticity. To perform “whether making money or not,” as she says, is to honor the divine impulse to create. When the imagination burns brightly enough, it requires no witness; its own light is enough. The truest performance is an offering — not to others, but to life itself.

And yet, how often do we abandon this sacred play as we grow older? We trade our imagination for practicality, our joy for approval. We tell ourselves that creation must be useful, that it must earn or impress, and in doing so we silence the child within us who once turned the living room into a stage. But Bundy reminds us that the greatest art is born of freedom, not fear. The performer who creates out of love, who dares to imagine without needing permission, carries within them the same spirit that animated the storytellers of old, the poets of Greece, the musicians of every age.

The lesson, then, is eternal: nurture your imagination, and never let the fire of your inner stage go dark. Whether you stand before thousands or before one, perform with all the passion of your spirit. Let your creativity flow not for reward, but for renewal. Reclaim the joy of play, the courage of curiosity, the childlike daring to imagine worlds within your own. For the living room of the soul — that humble space of imagination — is the truest stage of all.

So remember, as Laura Bell Bundy teaches through her words and her life: the artist’s first and greatest audience is themselves. Imagination is the heartbeat of the human spirit — and to perform, to create, to dream, is to honor the divine energy within you that longs to be expressed. Whether in silence or song, in solitude or on the stage, let your imagination lead you — for it is there, in that fearless act of creation, that you will find the purest joy of being alive.