Do you have a quote you live your life by or think of often?

(Daily prompt)

You see things; you say, ‘Why?’ But I dream things that never were; and I say ‘Why not?

George Bernard Shaw

There’s a quote that first caught hold of me in my younger years, and it has stayed with me ever since—now into my early forties. Whenever I’m asked to write a short introduction and don’t feel like shaping my thoughts into something neat and presentable, I fall back on it. And if it doesn’t fit, I feel strangely unsettled—as if I’ve failed to distill something essential about who I am and how I think.

I meet many people. Some are smarter, kinder, more talented, more accomplished than I am. And with time, I’ve made my peace with that. But I also see how easily people become confined by the narrow systems built around them—routines, beliefs, inherited rules. Even when those systems lead to frustration or quiet despair, they are rarely questioned. People remain where they are—intellectually, emotionally, sometimes even spiritually.

I don’t think I’m immune to that. But I do think I’m more curious.

That curiosity has not always been comfortable. It has led me into uncertainty, into risk, into situations that didn’t make sense from the outside. But it has also led me to the moments that shaped me most, and to people whose presence in my life I consider a gift.

“Why?”—I’ve heard that question often.

Why did I watch the same abstract dance performance twelve times, when others walked out halfway through? Because each time, I saw something new. A movement, a detail, something that shifted the way I imagined the whole. Eventually, the crew let me in for free. Those encounters led to connections, then to an internship at national television, and later to work alongside some of the country’s most recognized creatives.
Why not?

Why did I write to a rabbi—quietly ignoring the disapproval around me—to ask if I could learn about a faith that wasn’t mine? Because I wanted to understand. That curiosity led to conversations, to study, to a room filled with people from vastly different backgrounds, all engaging with the same text in their own way. It gave me knowledge, perspective, and relationships—and the space to form my own conclusions about prejudice.
Why not?

Why, after years of loneliness in Budapest, did I choose not to return to the familiar, but to move even farther away? Because distance did not feel like the real risk—staying did. What followed was not ease, but it was a life I built deliberately, one that offered more than the one I left behind.
Why not?

Why, in the middle of a chaotic and demanding life—raising two small children, one with ADHD and autism—did I enroll in university to pursue a path working with people in similar situations? Because it mattered. Even when the timing was wrong. Even when the world shut down during Covid. I finished it. It became not just work, but something closer to a vocation—and a way forward.
Why not?

Why, during my experience with breast cancer, did I choose a more extensive surgery than strictly necessary? Because in the context of my life, it made sense. It gave me not only the outcome I hoped for, but a sense of safety I was not willing to compromise.
Why not?

George Bernard Shaw spoke about creativity in contrast to logic. Perhaps he meant it in the context of art. I think of it in terms of living. Curiosity, critical thinking, intuition, openness—these are not luxuries. They are ways of resisting the slow drift into resignation.

It is easy to settle into routine. To accept dissatisfaction. To place responsibility elsewhere. It is harder to pause, to look at what is given, and to ask whether it could be different.

But sometimes, that question is enough.

Why not?