It's funny, because when I was in college, all my professors

Hear now, O children of perseverance and destiny, the words of Rachael Harris, the comedienne of wit and warmth, who once said: “It’s funny, because when I was in college, all my professors said, ‘You should do comedy.’ And I was like, ‘No! No!’ But I was able to get my foot in the door through comedy. I’m so grateful to have the opportunity to do it.” Though spoken with humor, her words conceal a truth as old as time—the mystery of calling, the irony of fate, and the humility of one who resisted her path only to find it guiding her home.

In her reflection, Rachael Harris speaks of the journey that all seekers must one day walk: the journey of self-discovery through resistance. Many times, destiny whispers softly before it shouts. The world around us—our mentors, our friends, even our failures—will often recognize our gifts before we do. Her professors saw the spark of comedy in her—the ability to see light in darkness, to turn life’s absurdities into laughter—but like many souls, she doubted the truth of her own brilliance. She said “No!” not because she lacked talent, but because she feared the vulnerability that comes with accepting one’s calling. For to embrace one’s purpose is to stand naked before the unknown, trusting that one’s heart knows what the mind cannot yet understand.

This story, though hers, echoes the lives of many before her. Consider Joan of Arc, the shepherd girl who denied her divine voices at first, trembling at their command to lead armies. Or Vincent van Gogh, who spent years searching for meaning before daring to call himself an artist. So it is with Harris: her journey was not one of arrogance, but of awakening. When she says she is “grateful to have the opportunity to do it,” it is not a boast—it is a confession of wonder. She found her path not by seeking glory, but by following where opportunity and instinct led. What began as hesitation became gratitude, and what began as resistance became revelation.

There is a deeper lesson here about the power of comedy itself. For comedy, though it wears the face of laughter, is a sacred art. It is the philosopher’s mirror and the healer’s balm. To make others laugh is not to trivialize life, but to sanctify it—to reveal, through joy, the truths that tragedy hides. In ancient Greece, Aristophanes used laughter to challenge kings and question the gods. In the courts of medieval kings, jesters spoke truth that even nobles feared to utter. And in our modern world, the comedian still stands as both rebel and healer, lifting the burdens of a weary people through humor. Thus, when Harris found her way into the world of comedy, she was not merely finding a career—she was finding a calling of service: to comfort, to awaken, to connect.

Her story teaches us, too, the importance of humility before destiny. When she first rejected comedy, she was not wrong—she was simply not ready. Many times, the soul must wander before it can recognize the path that was always waiting. When the opportunity came, she did not cling to pride; she allowed the door to open, and she walked through it with gratitude. In this, she showed the courage that lies not in defiance, but in surrender. For greatness rarely comes from forcing one’s will upon the world—it comes from listening when the world speaks back.

Consider also how Harris’s words remind us that gratitude transforms the past. What once seemed accidental—a “foot in the door”—becomes, in hindsight, a divine design. The path we resist often becomes the path that saves us. Her gratitude is the mark of wisdom: to look back and see not error, but guidance; not randomness, but rhythm. The ancients would call this the hand of fate, the quiet working of the gods, who often lead us by detours so that we may return wiser to the road we were meant to travel.

Therefore, my children of uncertainty and hope, take this lesson to heart: listen when life calls your name, even if the voice comes from an unexpected place. Do not fear the irony of your journey. The dream you reject today may be the gift that defines your tomorrow. If the door opens—even a small one—step through it with courage and curiosity, for you cannot know what light lies beyond. Like Rachael Harris, you may find that the thing you once resisted becomes your greatest joy, your truest purpose.

And when you arrive, when you finally see the wisdom of the path that once confused you, remember her closing words—“I’m so grateful to have the opportunity to do it.” For in gratitude lies the secret to peace. To live gratefully is to recognize that even the detours were sacred, that even your “No” was leading toward your “Yes.” And in that understanding, you will find what every artist, philosopher, and dreamer has sought since the dawn of time: the serenity of walking in harmony with who you were always meant to be.