I think I'm an actor because I have very strong imagination and

When Susan Sarandon said, “I think I'm an actor because I have very strong imagination and empathy. I never studied acting, but those two qualities are exactly the qualities that make for an activist,” she spoke not merely of her craft, but of the essence of what it means to be human. Her words reveal a truth that transcends the stage and the screen: that imagination and empathy are the twin pillars of transformation, the forces that allow us to see beyond ourselves and to feel for others as if their pain were our own. In these words, Sarandon unites the artist and the activist, reminding us that both spring from the same sacred well—the human heart’s ability to imagine what could be, and to care deeply about what is.

The origin of her statement lies in the convergence of art and conscience that defined her life. Sarandon, one of the great actors of her generation, was never content merely to portray humanity; she sought to uplift it. Known not only for her roles but for her voice in the public square, she carried the same empathy that animated her performances into her activism for justice, peace, and human rights. Her declaration that imagination and empathy form the foundation of both art and activism is no idle observation—it is a creed learned through living. For an actor who cannot imagine another’s reality cannot truly inhabit a character; and an activist who cannot feel another’s suffering cannot truly stand for them.

To possess imagination is to see beyond the visible world—to envision lives other than one’s own, to imagine new futures when all seems lost. The actor, in this sense, becomes a vessel for infinite lives, a mirror in which the audience sees not strangers, but themselves. The empathy that accompanies imagination is what turns imitation into truth, performance into revelation. In the same way, the activist imagines a world healed of its injustices and feels the pain of those still trapped in suffering. Without imagination, there can be no vision of change; without empathy, no will to achieve it. Sarandon’s words remind us that both artist and activist are dreamers who feel deeply enough to act.

Consider the life of Harriet Beecher Stowe, the writer of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. She was not a politician or a soldier, yet through her imagination, she entered into the hearts of the enslaved, and through her empathy, she made their anguish known to the world. Her novel stirred the conscience of nations and helped ignite the movement against slavery. In her story, we see the same truth that Sarandon spoke of: that imagination and empathy, when joined, have the power to move mountains, to change hearts, and to shape the course of history. The artist’s vision becomes the activist’s fire, and both are born of the same divine impulse—to feel, to see, to awaken.

Sarandon’s wisdom also warns us of what happens when these qualities fade from the world. When imagination dies, humanity ceases to dream; and when empathy fades, it ceases to care. The absence of these two forces breeds indifference—a blindness to the suffering of others, and a paralysis of spirit. It is easy to study the techniques of acting or the strategies of activism, but these are lifeless without the heart that animates them. The actor may know every gesture, yet fail to move the audience; the activist may know every argument, yet fail to inspire the soul. Technique is the body, but imagination and empathy are the breath of life itself.

To live by Sarandon’s words, we must cultivate both qualities within ourselves. Begin with empathy—the ability to listen, to enter the world of another without judgment. When you walk through your day, look into the eyes of others and wonder what they carry unseen. Then nurture your imagination—read widely, dream boldly, and allow yourself to envision worlds beyond the familiar. Together, these powers will awaken your humanity. You need not stand on a stage or lead a protest to live them out; in every act of kindness, every creative thought, every moment of compassion, you become both artist and activist in the theater of life.

And thus, the teaching of Susan Sarandon becomes eternal: that to imagine and to empathize is to set the soul free. The world changes not through the force of arms, but through the force of hearts awakened to one another. The artist teaches us to see; the activist teaches us to act; but both begin by daring to feel. Let this be your practice—to let imagination expand your vision and empathy guide your will. For in the harmony of those two gifts lies not only the power to create, but the power to heal—and therein resides the truest art, the truest activism, and the truest humanity.