When life takes me on a new journey, I simply remember the smile

Hear the words of Andrea Thompson, spoken with grace and quiet strength: “When life takes me on a new journey, I simply remember the smile my first ballet recital put on my face and I move forward.” Within this utterance lies not merely a recollection of dance, but a teaching for all generations. She speaks of the smile, the radiant joy of a first triumph, and how it becomes a lantern to light the path of all journeys yet to come. For the memory of joy, once kindled, is a fire that does not easily fade, and from it we may draw courage to step into the unknown.

The origin of this wisdom is found in the art of ballet, a discipline of discipline itself, where every step is both pain and beauty. A child’s first recital is not only a performance for parents and teachers, but a proving ground of the spirit. To recall that moment is to recall innocence married to courage, vulnerability clothed in strength. Andrea reminds us that when the winds of change sweep us onto new paths, the heart may falter. But if we hold close to the memory of our first victory—however small—we will find strength to move forward again and again.

This lesson is echoed through the stories of the ancients. Consider the tale of Helen Keller, who, though blind and deaf, remembered the moment she first connected word to meaning, when her teacher spelled water into her hand as cool liquid flowed over her fingers. That moment, that awakening, was her “recital smile.” It gave her the strength to press on through hardship, to learn, to write, to inspire millions. She, too, carried the light of a first triumph into the uncharted territories of her life’s journeys.

So it is with us all. Our earliest victories—whether the first time we stood alone, the first time we spoke before others, the first time we dared to create—become milestones. They are not frozen in time, but living forces we may return to in memory. When the world grows uncertain, when fear rises, the wise do not look only to the storm ahead, but also to the beacon of joy behind. That beacon whispers: You have triumphed before. You can triumph again.

The meaning of Andrea’s words, then, is one of resilience. Life is not one unbroken road, but many paths, branching into the unknown. At each turn, doubt may come. Yet to remember one’s first smile of achievement is to remember that courage lives within us, ready to be summoned anew. It is not the recital itself that empowers her, but the memory of who she was in that moment: a soul radiant with joy, alive with possibility, unburdened by fear.

The lesson is clear: guard well the memories of your earliest triumphs. Do not dismiss them as childish or small, for they are the roots of your strength. When you stand trembling at the threshold of a new beginning, recall those moments. Let them steady you. Let them remind you that within you lies the same courage that carried you through the first time.

Practical action must follow. Each day, pause to remember a moment of joy from your past—a victory, however humble, that brought a true smile to your face. Write it down, keep it close, return to it when shadows fall. If you have not yet found such a memory, then seek it. Attempt something small, yet brave: sing before others, speak your truth, dare to begin a task you fear. Create a memory of triumph that your future self may one day call upon.

Thus the teaching is sealed: to move forward, one must look backward, not in regret but in gratitude. The smile of a first victory is a torch that can illuminate the darkest roads ahead. Carry it with you, as Andrea Thompson carries hers, and you will find the strength to face every new journey with courage, with hope, and with joy.