My mom has this great skiing event in Jackson Hole, Wyoming

When Joely Fisher said, “My mom has this great skiing event in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, every year for a local charity,” she was not merely describing an event of sport or society—she was describing the enduring power of generosity, the sacred bond between joy and service. Beneath the simplicity of her words lies a truth as old as civilization itself: that celebration gains meaning only when it uplifts others. A skiing event may seem like recreation, but in her mother’s hands, it becomes a ritual of compassion—a gathering of hearts that turn pleasure into purpose, and winter’s snow into the warmth of giving.

The image of Jackson Hole, nestled among the towering mountains and shimmering white slopes, is not incidental. In the high places of the world, humanity has always felt closer to the divine. Ancient peoples climbed mountains to pray, to give thanks, or to seek vision. So too, in this modern age, a mother’s charitable act at the summit of the earth’s beauty carries that same ancient energy—the union of joy and reverence. To ski among the peaks while raising funds for the needy is to remind the world that happiness need not be selfish, that fun and virtue can dance together in harmony.

The origin of this wisdom stretches far beyond the mountains of Wyoming. In every culture, from the temples of Greece to the villages of Africa, festivals were born not just to entertain, but to bind a community together. The Romans had their Saturnalia, where masters and servants feasted as equals for a day; the medieval towns of Europe held fairs that raised money for widows and orphans. What Joely Fisher describes is a continuation of that same sacred tradition—the recognition that abundance is sweetest when it is shared, and that the spirit of festivity becomes divine when joined with compassion.

There is also a more intimate meaning in her words, for she speaks not of her own deed, but of her mother’s. This reflects the eternal transmission of virtue from one generation to the next. The child who sees a parent act with kindness learns not from instruction, but from example. As fire passes from torch to torch, so too does goodness pass from heart to heart. Her admiration is not only for the event, but for the spirit behind it—for a mother who found a way to weave philanthropy into the fabric of her own joy, teaching by doing, loving by giving.

Consider the example of Florence Nightingale, who transformed her life of comfort into one of service during the Crimean War. She did not abandon her intelligence, her strength, or her grace; she redirected them toward the healing of others. Likewise, Joely Fisher’s mother shows that one need not choose between living fully and giving fully. A skiing event is not a battlefield, but the principle is the same: the highest use of one’s gifts—whether skill, wealth, or influence—is to serve the greater good. This is the mark of true nobility, the kind that time and fame cannot tarnish.

In a deeper sense, Fisher’s statement honors the harmony between joy and duty. Too often, people think of charity as a grim responsibility, as though helping others must come with heaviness. But true charity, born of love, brings joy both to giver and receiver. The skier who glides down the slope under the open sky, knowing her effort funds a child’s meal or a family’s shelter, feels the exhilaration of purpose. That is the kind of happiness the ancients called eudaimonia—not the fleeting pleasure of the senses, but the lasting joy of a life aligned with virtue.

Let this be the lesson for those who hear her words: do not wait for greatness to find you in grand gestures. Look instead to the places where your joy meets the world’s need. If you love to create, create for others. If you love to gather, gather with purpose. As Joely Fisher’s mother shows, even an event as simple as a day on the slopes can become a vessel for compassion. For the truest legacy is not measured in what we build for ourselves, but in the good we plant in others—and those seeds, once sown, can bloom in every season of life.