Laughing Through Tears

Through the saddest, most sublime dispair, we can find hope, happiness, soulful contentment. I have a friend who has seen some of the world's deepest Hearts of Darkness. She said once that the people in some of the most shadowed places can find light despite the sadness surrounding them.

How?

Is it that which we call the human spirit? An endless enthusiasm? Perhaps it is merely a survival instinct: countless studies show that our ability to live (literally) is affected by our emotional state. As a result of evolution, might those with a prediliction for finding that silver lining actually be more successful at living (and therefore reproducing)?

I haven't the knowledge to answer such a question. It seems, though, that such an approach misses some of the Truths that we recognize. That is, we believe in an inherent worth of people, -- a worth which no evil act can divest any one of.

Of course, this is a rather Romanticist view of humanity (of course, my use of the word humanity, with its conotations and denotations suggest a Romanticist perspective; perhaps "view of humans" might be a more neutral phrase). But, then, a turning point of the discussion centers on whether people are merely "homo sapiens" or have a spiritual nature unavailable to, say, a cactus (unless, of course, you believe that a cactus has a spirit or people haven't one, in which case you theoretically equate cannibalism to vegitarianism [and either starve to death or eat your next-door neighbor]). To believe that we lack any external or internal inherent spiritual worth suggests that humanity (humans) are nothing more than animals with the ability -- and currently the tendency -- to destroy Earth. This view might be correct; I believe it is wrong. For the purpose of this discussion, we will assume that people have natural value.

It might be in the spirit of humanity to find hope. To laugh through the tears of anguish provides us with more than an ability to live longer. It lets us -- even forces us -- to continue to climb the insurmountable mountain; to trust despite treachery; to "be proud of [our] blackened eye[s]" rather than wallow in failure. Whilst we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, the dark ground before and behind does not cause everlasting falter; we seek the sunlit meadows that lie beyond.

It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.

-Theodore Roosevelt