A well-developed sense of humor is the pole that adds balance to

“A well-developed sense of humor is the pole that adds balance to your steps as you walk the tightrope of life.” Thus wrote William Arthur Ward, a man of faith and reflection, whose wisdom captured the quiet heroism of the human spirit. In these few words, he likens life to a perilous performance — a narrow tightrope stretched between birth and death, swaying above the abyss of uncertainty. Upon this rope, every man and woman must learn to move carefully, balancing the burdens of sorrow and joy, of duty and desire. And what, he asks, is the instrument that steadies us when the winds of fate begin to blow? It is humor — the sacred laughter that steadies the soul when all else trembles.

To the ancients, such imagery would not be strange. They, too, saw life as a journey suspended between heaven and earth, fragile yet noble. Ward’s “pole” is the same as the philosopher’s virtue, the mystic’s faith, or the warrior’s calm — a tool of equilibrium, born not from denial of life’s chaos but from mastery of it. Yet Ward, unlike many sages, does not name wisdom or strength as the balancing force; he names humor. For he knew that laughter, rightly understood, is not mere jest, but a profound instrument of survival — a way of seeing the world that turns fear into acceptance and despair into endurance.

Consider the story of Winston Churchill, who bore the weight of war upon his shoulders. When asked how he managed the pressure of leading a nation through darkness, he said, “If I didn’t laugh, I would cry.” His humor — sharp, irreverent, and often self-deprecating — was not a mask to hide behind, but a pole to balance his courage. When the storms of conflict raged, his laughter steadied him; it reminded his people that hope could still live even amidst ruin. Like Ward’s image, Churchill’s humor did not remove the danger — it made the crossing possible.

This is the essence of Ward’s teaching: that humor is not frivolity but strength disguised as lightness. To laugh in the midst of hardship is to declare one’s freedom from despair. The tightrope of life is narrow because it demands that we keep moving, even when the ground below terrifies us. We carry our fears, losses, and failures upon our backs, and without balance, we would fall into bitterness. But humor — the ability to smile at our own folly, to see absurdity in pain — restores our equilibrium. It whispers, “Yes, the rope is high and the wind is cruel, but still, you walk.”

The ancients told of Democritus, the Greek philosopher who was called “the laughing thinker.” While others wept at the folly of mankind, Democritus laughed — not out of scorn, but out of understanding. He saw that life, in all its striving and suffering, was too short and too beautiful to be spent in resentment. His laughter, like Ward’s well-developed sense of humor, was wisdom in disguise — the realization that the world, though imperfect, is still worthy of joy.

Yet laughter, to serve as balance, must be cultivated. A well-developed sense of humor is not born overnight; it is the fruit of humility and perspective. It requires that we take neither ourselves nor our troubles too seriously, that we learn to release our grip on perfection and embrace the imperfection of being human. Those who can laugh at their own missteps become unshakable, for ridicule cannot harm them and failure cannot enslave them. Such laughter is not weakness — it is armor, invisible yet strong, forged in the fires of experience.

And so, my children, learn this lesson from William Arthur Ward: cherish your laughter as you would a sacred instrument. When the winds of hardship buffet you, let humor be your balancing pole. When life mocks your plans, answer with a smile. When pain threatens to steal your spirit, laugh — not to deny it, but to rise above it. For laughter is the soul’s rebellion against despair; it is the proof that you still walk, still breathe, still dare to hope.

In the end, remember this truth: the tightrope is not meant to be feared, nor the winds to be cursed. They are the conditions of life itself. What matters is not how steady the rope, but how gracefully you cross it. And if along the way you can still laugh — even at your trembling, even at your falls — then you have mastered the art of balance, and your journey, though perilous, will be beautiful. For humor is not the denial of struggle — it is the light that keeps the traveler from falling into the dark.