My mom always encouraged me, it was never weird. She'd look at

Hear, O children of vision, the words of Zack Snyder, who declared with gratitude: “My mom always encouraged me, it was never weird. She’d look at ‘Heavy Metal’ and go ‘Woo-hoo!’” At first, this sounds like a playful memory, but within it lies a deeper truth about the roots of creativity, the sacred role of encouragement, and the courage to embrace the unusual.

First, consider the figure of the mother, not as one who restrains but as one who liberates. Many artists are told their imaginations are strange, their passions unfit, their dreams too wild. Yet Snyder’s mother did not scold or dismiss; she lifted her son’s vision, even when it turned toward the fantastic, the violent, or the surreal. In this, she stands as a guardian of freedom—the kind of support that allows creativity to grow untamed, rather than wither under judgment.

Then behold the reference to Heavy Metal, that cult magazine and film of raw fantasy and unrestrained imagination. For many, such work might have been seen as odd or inappropriate for a child to admire. Yet his mother’s cry of “Woo-hoo!” transformed it from something shameful into something celebrated. By doing so, she taught him that art, however eccentric, has value—and that his interests need not fit the narrow path of expectation.

History itself echoes this lesson. Consider Michelangelo, whose family once scorned his desire to become an artist rather than a merchant. Yet he pressed on, nurtured not by his father’s approval but by patrons who believed in his gift. Imagine, then, if Michelangelo had known the encouragement Snyder received—how much less lonely his early path might have been. Encouragement, even in small gestures, can be the difference between a spark extinguished and a fire that illuminates the world.

The meaning of Snyder’s reflection is that encouragement normalizes passion. To be told “it’s never weird” is to be told “you are free to be yourself.” And in this freedom, Snyder found the strength to become the filmmaker who would later bring forth worlds of myth, heroism, and spectacle. His mother’s acceptance did more than support him—it gave him permission to dream without apology.

Thus the lesson is clear: when faced with the dreams of others—especially children—choose encouragement over dismissal. Say “woo-hoo” to the strangeness, to the fantasy, to the unusual visions, for in them may lie the seeds of genius. Do not crush imagination with the weight of “normal.” Instead, cultivate it, honor it, and watch it bloom into greatness.

So, dear listener, take this wisdom into your own life. If you are a parent, cheer your child’s odd fascinations. If you are a friend or mentor, encourage even what you do not fully understand. And if you are yourself the dreamer, remember Snyder’s mother’s voice: it is not weird, it is worthy. Stand proudly in your passions, and let no one tell you they are too strange to matter. For it is often the unusual that gives birth to the extraordinary.