My mother was a high school arts teacher, so I was always

John Lasseter once said: "My mother was a high school arts teacher, so I was always surrounded by the arts." In this humble confession lies a truth as ancient as civilization itself: that the soul of a child is shaped by the waters it drinks, and that the streams of art, flowing early into the heart, can nourish greatness. He speaks not merely of a childhood filled with brushes and clay, but of a destiny woven in color, form, and imagination. To be surrounded by beauty is to breathe in the breath of creation itself.

The ancients knew the power of beginnings. Plato told us that the songs sung to children shape the harmony of their souls. In Egypt, the temples carved with hieroglyphs taught the people to see the divine in symbols. So too in Lasseter’s home, the presence of a teacher of the arts was more than maternal—it was initiatory, as though his mother were a priestess of vision, guiding him unknowingly toward his calling. The arts were not distant subjects; they were the air he breathed, the food of his spirit.

Consider also the story of Michelangelo. As a boy, he was not raised by kings or scholars, but in the home of a stonecutter’s family. Surrounded daily by the touch and dust of marble, he absorbed the voice of stone before he ever raised a chisel. From those early surroundings, his genius found root. Likewise, Lasseter’s greatness in animation—bringing to life stories that would touch the world through Pixar—was born from the surroundings shaped by his mother’s devotion to art. The home became the first studio, the family table the first classroom.

Yet we must not mistake his words as mere nostalgia. There is a deeper call: that what surrounds us in youth echoes through all our years. If we surround our children with cynicism, they grow hardened; if we surround them with wonder, they grow wings. Lasseter’s mother did more than teach in a classroom—she created a sanctuary of creativity at home, planting seeds that would one day grow into stories like Toy Story and Cars, stories filled with the innocence of play and the wisdom of imagination.

Here lies a heroic truth: the mother, the teacher, the one who gives light, is often unseen by the world, yet her influence shapes those who will be seen. Behind every artist, every leader, every visionary, there often stands such a presence—quiet, faithful, forming the foundation. In Lasseter’s case, the arts did not merely happen to him; they were bestowed by inheritance, carried into his being through love and proximity.

So what is the lesson for us, O seekers? It is this: surround yourself and your children with what you wish to become. If you desire to nurture kindness, surround your days with acts of compassion. If you wish for creativity, flood your life with music, books, and craft. If you long for wisdom, walk with those who speak truth and plant your mind in fertile soils. The world within us is born from the world around us.

Practical steps follow from this: adorn your home with symbols that uplift. Do not let the walls be bare of inspiration. Share with your children stories, images, and sounds that awaken, not numb. Seek teachers—not only in schools but in life—who embody the beauty you wish to see reflected. For what is near us, daily and unceasing, will enter our souls like air into the lungs.

And thus, as Lasseter himself testifies, to be surrounded by the arts is to be bathed in the waters of imagination from which dreams rise. His mother’s quiet vocation became the foundation for his world-changing vision. Let us, then, become careful architects of our surroundings, so that what we breathe, hear, and see may give birth to the greatness waiting within us.