The thing that stood out above and beyond all the experiences
The thing that stood out above and beyond all the experiences was this relationship with the nine-month-old baby. On weekends, I'd be thinking about going back to set on Monday just to see the baby.
The words spoken by Vin Diesel—“The thing that stood out above and beyond all the experiences was this relationship with the nine-month-old baby. On weekends, I'd be thinking about going back to set on Monday just to see the baby.”—are not merely a reflection on a film set or an actor’s fleeting sentiment. They are the testimony of a man who, amidst the clamor of lights and cameras, discovered that the truest treasure is not glory, nor acclaim, nor the grand stage, but the simple, sacred bond with innocent life. To the ancients, this would have been recognized as a reminder from the gods: that even in the pursuit of great deeds, one must not overlook the quiet call of the heart.
In these words, the actor confesses that among the many experiences of fame, labor, and performance, what rose “above and beyond” was not the triumph of art, but the presence of a child. This is no trivial admission. For the ancients believed that children were living mirrors of purity—beings yet untouched by greed, pride, or malice. To behold them was to glimpse the divine in its unclouded form. Thus, Diesel’s longing to return to set, not for work, but for the joy of being with the baby, reveals a wisdom older than stone: that life is made full not by conquests, but by tenderness.
Consider the tale of the Roman general Scipio Africanus, who after defeating Hannibal and saving Rome, chose to retreat into quiet exile rather than bask in power. When asked why he turned away from honors, Scipio replied that victory was nothing compared to the sweetness of simple life with his family. Just as Scipio found greater joy in the hearth than in the Senate, so too did Diesel find greater fulfillment in the innocent laughter of a child than in the accolades of Hollywood. Both men understood: the victories of the spirit are won not in the arena of men, but in the sanctuary of the heart.
And what is this nine-month-old baby but a symbol of renewal? At nine months, a child is full of fragile wonder, discovering the world as if it were new each morning. To delight in such presence is to be reminded that we too must keep the freshness of soul, the openness to wonder. This is why the actor’s heart yearned for Monday: not for the duties of his craft, but for the spark of joy that comes only from beholding innocence. It is the same reason sages counseled kings to hold infants in their arms, so that they might remember humility and the sacred duty to protect the weak.
We should not mistake this as a small or sentimental truth. To cherish the presence of a child is to anchor oneself to what is eternal. Empires rise and fall, reputations wax and wane, but the memory of a child’s smile can outlast monuments. In Diesel’s confession lies a heroic reversal: the man famed for portraying warriors and outlaws proclaims that his greatest prize was not glory, but tenderness. This is a lesson fit for warriors and poets alike—that the heart must remain soft even in a world that hardens men.
For us, the lesson is clear: let not ambition blind us to love. We must learn to pause in our striving, to seek out the faces that bring us joy, and to treasure them above all works of our hands. The ancients taught that even the mightiest hero becomes dust, but the love he plants in another soul is immortal. Therefore, in your daily journey, remember to look up from the burdens you carry and cherish those who carry nothing but trust in you.
As a practical path, seek the company of those who awaken your spirit. If you have children, give them not only your labor, but your presence. If you have no children, find the young, the pure-hearted, the vulnerable—those who need your care—and let their innocence renew your strength. Dedicate time each week not to duty alone, but to presence. For presence is the temple where love is worshiped.
Thus, hear the wisdom in Vin Diesel’s words, though spoken lightly: the world will tempt you with honors, wealth, and applause. Yet above and beyond these fleeting gifts, the soul thirsts for connection. Answer that thirst. Protect the innocent. Cherish the small. For in doing so, you rise to a greatness that no stage or battlefield can grant. This is the teaching of the ancients: that love, above all things, endures.
ATNguyen Thi Anh Thu
The way Vin Diesel talks about his attachment to the nine-month-old baby really struck me. It’s interesting that he looks forward to going back to set just to see the baby, which shows how powerful these on-set relationships can be. Do you think that these kinds of personal connections can help actors feel more grounded and connected to their characters, making their performances more authentic?
HTHue Tran
Vin Diesel’s comment about the baby is so touching—it’s fascinating how certain moments or relationships on set can stay with someone long after the cameras stop rolling. It makes me wonder: How common is it for actors to develop such deep emotional ties to the people they work with? Can this type of connection change the way they approach future roles or even how they view their work in general?
DPDung Phung
I love how Vin Diesel expresses the special connection he had with the baby. It’s amazing that something like this can leave such a lasting impact, especially in a work environment that’s often more about performance than personal connection. Do you think these kinds of unexpected relationships shape an actor’s growth or influence their emotional depth in future roles? It seems like a powerful bond to form.
VTPhan Viet Thang
This quote really speaks to the emotional depth that can develop between actors and their characters, or even the people they interact with on set. It’s interesting how Vin Diesel mentions thinking about the baby over the weekend, which shows how emotionally involved he became. Does this kind of bond make the actor’s performance feel more real? How often do actors get so attached to certain relationships in their work?
HCHGH Channel
Vin Diesel’s reflection on his relationship with the baby is heartwarming. It’s incredible how deeply someone can connect with a role or character, even outside of work. It makes me wonder—do actors often get so invested in their roles that they form strong bonds with the people around them, even if they’re just part of the set? Can these emotional connections influence their performance or the way they approach their craft?