There are kids who get on a BMX bike when they're eight years

Hear the voice of Joaquin Phoenix, a man whose art has always carried the fire of intensity and truth. He once said: “There are kids who get on a BMX bike when they’re eight years old and they go, ‘Whoa, this is incredible,’ and grow up to do extreme sports. It’s the same for me with acting.” At first, his words seem simple, almost playful—a comparison between childhood thrills and the path to artistry. Yet beneath them lies a revelation: that passion is often born in an instant of awe, a spark so powerful it sets the course of a lifetime.

When he speaks of the BMX bike, Phoenix calls upon the image of a child discovering freedom, speed, and possibility. At that moment, when the wheels first lift from the ground, when balance and daring merge into exhilaration, the child whispers, “This is incredible.” From such beginnings, lifelong devotion is born. What others may see as a pastime becomes, for that child, a destiny. The same is true for Phoenix in his first encounters with acting—not as a chore, nor as an obligation, but as a revelation that called to his very soul.

The mention of extreme sports is not idle. Phoenix chooses this image because such pursuits demand risk, fearlessness, and devotion. Those who ride, climb, or leap in extreme sports live not by half-measures, but by total commitment. They embrace danger for the sake of intensity, and they endure hardship for the sake of mastery. Phoenix sees his own craft in this same light. To him, acting is not a game of pretense, but an act of extremity, a surrender to the role so complete that it becomes both perilous and transcendent.

History gives us parallels. Think of Michelangelo, who as a young boy stood before marble and felt in his heart the same awe, the same “Whoa, this is incredible.” From that spark came a lifetime of carving stone into visions of eternity. Or recall the story of Amelia Earhart, who, as a child, rode a makeshift roller coaster and felt the thrill of flight before she ever touched an airplane. That one moment of exhilaration set her on the path to soar across oceans. Like Phoenix, their destinies began in a single instant of wonder.

The deeper meaning of his words is that greatness often begins not in calculation, but in inspiration. The child does not think of careers, accolades, or legacies when they first taste passion. They think only of the raw feeling: “This is incredible.” It is that spark which guides the years to come, turning curiosity into discipline, play into craft, and awe into art. Phoenix reminds us that we must honor these sparks, for they are the seeds of destiny.

The lesson, then, is clear: pay attention to the moments that make your soul ignite. When something fills you with awe, do not dismiss it as fleeting. It may be the voice of your calling. Just as a child on a BMX bike may discover their future, so too may you, in an unexpected moment, discover the passion that defines your life. These sparks are rare, but when found, they must be cherished and pursued with courage.

The practical action is this: reflect upon your own life and remember the moments that made you say, “This is incredible.” Ask yourself if you have honored those moments, or if you have let them fade beneath the weight of duty and doubt. Pursue them again, with the intensity of the athlete and the devotion of the artist. Let your days be guided by the spark that once set your spirit ablaze.

Thus, Phoenix’s words stand as a testimony to passion. He teaches us that life’s calling often reveals itself in childhood awe, and that the path of mastery—whether in extreme sports or in acting—is born not from planning but from wonder. To live fully is to seek that wonder, to follow it, and to build one’s life around the things that once made the heart cry out, “This is incredible.”