Until now, until I actually got into law class, I just never
Until now, until I actually got into law class, I just never thought of it as being an interest for me, but it's really funny because now that I'm in law, I'm like 'Wow, I could be a lawyer.
In the thoughtful words of Lisa Leslie, “Until now, until I actually got into law class, I just never thought of it as being an interest for me, but it’s really funny because now that I’m in law, I’m like ‘Wow, I could be a lawyer,’” we hear not merely the surprise of discovery, but the whisper of destiny revealing itself in its own time. Her statement, simple in form, is profound in truth: that passion is often a seed we do not know lies within us until life waters it by chance. Many live believing they know themselves fully, yet the soul holds infinite rooms, and only experience turns the key.
Lisa Leslie, known across the world for her towering grace on the basketball court, had already conquered one realm of excellence — sport, perseverance, and leadership. Yet even she, a master of her craft, discovered that within her spirit there lay another calling, waiting quietly until the right moment. In her words, there is the wonder of awakening — that rare joy when one meets a new side of oneself, and realizes that potential is not fixed, but ever-flowing. It is as if life itself, through the unexpected doorway of a classroom, whispered to her, “You are still becoming.”
The ancients understood this truth deeply. They spoke of the second birth — not the birth of the body, but the birth of understanding. Socrates, late in life, declared that wisdom was not in knowing many things, but in realizing how little one truly knows. So too does Lisa Leslie’s reflection echo that humility — that even the wise, the accomplished, must remain open to surprise. Her astonishment at her newfound passion is not the naivety of inexperience, but the clarity of one who has learned to listen when life shifts direction.
There is also humor in her tone — a soft, self-aware laughter that springs from humility. When she says it’s “really funny,” she acknowledges the irony of life’s unfolding — that what once seemed foreign can suddenly feel like home. This laughter is the laughter of the enlightened: it is the smile one wears when realizing that the universe often knows us better than we know ourselves. In every age, those who live fully have known this irony. Cicero, the Roman orator, began as a philosopher and scholar, never imagining he would rise to become the greatest lawyer and speaker of his time. It was in the practice, not the plan, that he found his purpose.
Leslie’s realization also teaches that identity is not a prison, but a journey. We are not bound to a single talent or role; the spirit is vast and capable of infinite transformation. One may be an athlete, a scholar, an artist, a leader — or all of these, at different times. To confine oneself to one title is to deny the evolution of the soul. The true wise person, like Lisa, remains curious, allowing each new experience to reveal hidden strengths. For just as rivers change course and still reach the sea, so too may we change direction and still fulfill our destiny.
Her discovery also carries a message of courage — for to explore something new after success is to begin again as a student. Many fear this, for it demands humility. Yet those who dare to learn anew keep their spirits young. Lisa Leslie’s embrace of law, after years of mastery in another field, becomes a testament to the power of lifelong learning. She reminds us that there is no shame in starting over; indeed, it is the mark of greatness to never cease growing.
So let this be the lesson to those who hear her words: never close the door to curiosity. The moment you believe you have finished discovering yourself is the moment you begin to wither. Let life surprise you. Step into unknown rooms. Take classes that call to you, travel to unfamiliar places, speak to those outside your circle — for the next chapter of your purpose may be hidden in the simplest experience. When you feel that spark of unexpected joy, do not dismiss it. Follow it, as Lisa did, and say to yourself, “Perhaps I could do this.”
For in the end, her quote is not about law or learning — it is about possibility. It is about the beauty of meeting oneself anew in the unfolding story of life. And so, as the ancients would say, the wise never stop beginning. For each beginning is a mirror that reflects another layer of the soul, and those who remain open to discovery will forever live in the sunlight of becoming.
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