I want to work as hard as I can. But I also want six kids! It

“I want to work as hard as I can. But I also want six kids! It takes a lot of courage as an actor to take time off for family. But family is everything.” — so declared Shari Sebbens, an actress whose words carry not only the warmth of love but the gravity of wisdom. In her voice, we hear the ancient tension between ambition and belonging, between the hunger to create and the need to nurture. She speaks for every soul who has ever stood at the crossroads of purpose and affection, torn between the fire of achievement and the gentle call of home. Yet in her simplicity lies a truth profound and timeless: that though our labor may build monuments, it is family — the circle of love — that gives meaning to what we build.

Shari Sebbens, an Indigenous Australian actress known for her powerful performances and her quiet grace, has walked the demanding path of art, where recognition is fleeting and rest is rare. The world of the stage and screen rewards constant striving, endless motion, and devotion to the craft. To step away, even for love, is to risk invisibility. And so she names it rightly: “It takes courage.” For in an age that glorifies productivity above peace, to choose one’s family over one’s career, even for a time, is an act not of weakness but of great strength.

In her words we find an echo of the ancients. The philosopher Seneca once said that “No man is more unhappy than he who never faces adversity, for he is not permitted to prove himself.” In this sense, the modern adversity is not always war or hardship—it is balance. To work with all one’s might, yet remain present for the ones we love, is perhaps the greatest trial of our era. Sebbens’ declaration—her wish to “work as hard as I can” and yet to raise a large family—is the voice of one who refuses to let the world’s noise drown out the song of the heart.

History offers us many who faced this same choice. Consider Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, philosopher, and father. In the midst of ruling an empire, he still wrote tenderly of his children and the lessons of domestic love. “Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be,” he wrote. “Be one.” His greatness was not only in governance but in his devotion to his family, whom he regarded as the foundation of all virtue. Like Sebbens, he understood that the truest empire one can build is not of land or fame, but of love faithfully tended within the home.

Yet Sebbens also speaks of fear — the fear that time spent on family might steal from one’s art or career, the fear of being forgotten. This fear is the shadow cast by ambition, and to overcome it demands courage of the highest order. For the artist, every pause can feel like disappearance. But her wisdom reminds us that art is not diminished by love — it is deepened by it. The actor who loves deeply becomes a vessel for truth, for she has lived the very emotions she must portray. The parent who takes time to raise children does not abandon creation; they become co-creators with life itself.

There is also tenderness in her acknowledgment that family is everything. The ancients spoke of the hearth as sacred — the fire that keeps the soul of the home alive. Without it, no city could stand, no civilization endure. So too in our modern lives: without family, whether by blood or by choice, our accomplishments echo in emptiness. The artist’s greatest role is not upon the stage but within the circle of those who love them for who they are, not what they achieve. Family, then, is not a distraction from destiny — it is destiny.

Therefore, my children, let the words of Shari Sebbens remind you of the eternal balance between labor and love. Strive, yes — work with passion, create with fire — but never let the pursuit of greatness turn your heart to stone. Let your ambition be guided by tenderness, and your success measured not only in applause, but in the laughter of those who share your life. Take time to hold your children, to listen, to live — for in those moments, the soul is restored and the world grows gentle again.

And when you feel torn between the world’s demands and your heart’s longing, remember her truth: that to choose family is not to abandon greatness, but to fulfill it. For no crown shines brighter than the love of those who wait for you at home, and no legacy endures longer than the warmth you pass from your heart to theirs. Work hard. Love harder. For family, indeed, is everything.