2025-2026 Live Deliberately Essay Contest
Francesca Di Rende, 16
Winner,14-16 age group
Fairfield, CT
Absorb nutrients, convert to energy, grow, reproduce. This is the basic, yet foundational process of a healthy cell. That is all a human cell needs, nothing more, nothing less. Life can be sustained as long as a cell follows this fundamental process. But, what happens if an erroneous mutation disrupts this process? Chaos. An uncontrollable multiplication of an unruly cell. One or two thriving cells become hundreds and thousands of infectious ones. A loose cannon that causes the destruction of any tissue or organ in reach. This is the definition of cancer. Merely a disruption of simplicity. When I lost my father to cancer, leading a simplified and deliberate life was at the nucleus of my personal objectives.
I will admit. My life had previously consisted of wasted hours on social media, toxic friendships, shopping for what society deemed “trendy,” indulging in the latest drama, and an abundance of other frivolous, distracting static. What appeared to be fulfilling and worth my energy was actually a superficial form of sustenance. A million different ways to pull my attention and focus, yet all trivial and shallow.
Soon, my pastimes became visits to the hospital. How could I think about checking my phone or catching up on problematic conversations when I was surrounded by buzzing white hospital lights, uncomfortable rigid chairs, and relentless, impending dread. The never ending distractions from before seemed so…insignificant. All that felt right was the sweaty grips from my family and I as we held my father’s hand through his last breath.
I was infected by a severe emptiness, and none of those million distractions from my previous lifestyle could cure it. Only three core virtues could fill that void: my family, my true friends, and my passion. I felt most enriched when immersed in those three, foundational parts of my life. A phone can’t provide the warmth of an embrace from my four sisters and mom, nor the unconditional support that seeps from the presence of my genuine friends. Staying in the loop of trends and drama can’t fulfill the authentic passion, purpose, and individual discipline of barre work at dance, or the growing anticipation to perform as I sit under stage lights. After losing my father, the trivial, distracting chaos in my life slowly began to prune itself out. Turns out, the chaos was the cancer to my own life. The noise and clutter all fell away. What remained were the most simple, yet most profound necessities. Family, friends, passion, and along with them, gratitude.
A lack of simplicity steals our most valuable gift: time. Cancer brought me a new understanding of impermanence, and the value of presence. Like a healthy cell suddenly becoming unruly ones, anything in life can change just as quickly. When I found my core purposes, my spirit reduced to its purest, yet most complete form. But this means pouring my full energy solely into what brings meaning in my life, no matter how fleeting or permanent it may appear. A brief moment with my family is worth more than the wretched number of times a malignant cell can divide. The raw conversations with my friends, as well as the joy and laughter, are cherished no matter how many times they occur. The tiresome late nights at the studio with my friends are remedied by the comfort of each other’s company. I will never complain about spending time with the people who have enriched my life the most. I will never say no to talk to my sister so that I can scroll on my phone. Now, each minute at the dance studio is maximized discipline, motivation, and effort. Because even though I get many more chances to be there and work, one day, it will be the last, and I will move on to the next chapter in my life.
A reformed priority has blossomed from devastation. It is not only devoting my time and energy where it suits me best, but with the highest level of intention and presence. This is how I have transcended my life and perspectives. How can I be the happiest and healthiest version of myself? The answer is found in the design of our very own cellular biology: maintain a simplified foundation.
