I don't do anything malicious or anything in a negative manner.

The words of JaVale McGee rise not as the shout of a warrior, but as the gentle song of one who has chosen the path of light. “I don’t do anything malicious… I’m all about positivity and making people smile is positive.” In this utterance is hidden a truth that surpasses the moment and touches the eternal. For it reminds us that the measure of greatness is not in power, not in cunning, not in conquest, but in the quiet strength of a soul that chooses kindness over cruelty, and joy over malice.

In every age, men and women have stood at the crossroad between the path of bitterness and the path of positivity. One road is paved with envy, vengeance, and destruction; the other is lit with laughter, warmth, and the upliftment of the weary heart. To choose the second is no weakness—it is the higher courage, the nobler strength. The one who smiles and brings a smile to another becomes like the sun, scattering shadows simply by being what he is. McGee, though known for the vigor of his body upon the court, speaks here as one who has trained the spirit as well as the flesh.

Consider the story of Abraham Lincoln, mocked often in his youth, carrying burdens of sorrow and self-doubt. Yet he wielded humor not as a weapon to wound, but as a balm to soothe. When critics assailed him with harsh words, he would disarm them with wit, or turn hostility into laughter. In choosing not to repay scorn with scorn, but to transform it into mirth, he lifted the spirits of a nation weighed down by war. Lincoln understood, as McGee’s words remind us, that a smile is not frivolous—it is a weapon against despair, a bridge between hearts, a spark that ignites hope.

Indeed, positivity is not merely an emotion; it is an ethic, a discipline, a daily practice. To wake each morning and decide, “I shall not add to the bitterness of this world,” is as noble a vow as any made by kings or saints. To enter a room and leave behind light, to ease the burden of another with laughter or encouragement, is a service as sacred as feeding the hungry or clothing the naked. For joy itself is a kind of nourishment, and to give it is to give life.

But beware, children of tomorrow, of those who mistake kindness for weakness. To refuse malice is not to be naïve; it is to be resolute. It is easy to strike back when struck, to insult when insulted. It is far harder to stand tall, to guard the gates of one’s heart, and to say, “No venom shall pass my lips, no darkness shall escape my hands.” The one who can do this possesses a strength more enduring than any fortress built of stone.

Therefore, let this lesson be carved into your lives: choose daily to be a source of light. When the chance arises to belittle, instead uplift. When anger rises, meet it with patience. When another falters, offer them the strength of your smile. Speak words that heal, not words that wound. Do not wait for greatness to grant you the stage—begin in your home, with your family, your friends, the stranger who crosses your path. Every act of positivity plants a seed, and from these seeds grow forests of joy that shelter future generations.

To live as McGee has spoken is to become a beacon: not dazzling with cruelty or conquest, but glowing with warmth, steady and enduring. Remember this: a smile can be mightier than a sword, and a heart that rejects malice can outlast empires. Let this truth be your companion, your armor, your gift to the world. For when your days are done, the laughter you inspired and the light you carried will remain, echoing through the hearts you touched, eternal as the stars.