I got a lot of support from my parents. That's the one thing I

In the words of Jim Carrey, “I got a lot of support from my parents. That’s the one thing I always appreciated. They didn’t tell me I was being stupid; they told me I was being funny.” Here lies a truth as radiant as dawn: the seed of genius blooms not in judgment, but in encouragement. This simple remembrance from a man of laughter carries the weight of an ancient teaching — that belief is the soil from which every dream arises. Carrey’s words are not only about comedy or family; they are about the sacred power of acceptance, and how the soul, when nourished by love rather than scorn, grows fearless in its expression.

The ancients understood that the voice of a child is fragile — a spark of divine possibility, easily extinguished by the cold winds of ridicule. When Jim Carrey says his parents told him he was “funny” instead of “stupid,” he speaks of being seen, of being affirmed in his essence. For to be recognized not for perfection but for authenticity is a blessing beyond measure. The laughter of a child, the strange imitation, the wild imagination — these are not foolish things, but signs of the creative spirit awakening. When parents, teachers, or elders respond with warmth instead of dismissal, they align themselves with the gods of creation, for they allow potential to live.

We may recall the story of Thomas Edison, the inventor who lit the world. When he was a boy, his teacher called him “addled” — too slow to learn. His mother, however, refused this verdict. She withdrew him from school and told him he was brilliant, destined for great things. That one act of faith changed history. What Carrey’s parents did with laughter, Edison’s mother did with love: they believed when others might have mocked. From their faith was born invention, art, and light — both literal and spiritual. The lesson is the same: the flame of genius does not thrive in scorn; it thrives in encouragement.

Carrey’s reflection also reminds us of the deep link between humor and love. To call something “funny” is to delight in it, to share in its joy. When his parents laughed with him, they gave him a gift far greater than approval — they gave him connection. That bond is what fuels the artist’s courage to keep creating. Every time Jim performed, he was, in spirit, performing for them — for that first audience who chose joy over judgment. This is why humor has always been sacred: it heals, it unites, it transforms pain into play. Through laughter, love finds its voice.

And yet, hidden within his words is a gentle warning: not every child receives such grace. Many are told they are foolish, that their imagination is a waste. The world, fearing what it does not understand, often silences the very voices that might one day lift it. But those who are blessed with support — like Carrey — carry a responsibility. They must become that same source of encouragement for others. To lift the young, the uncertain, the dreamers — that is how light multiplies across generations. For each act of faith in another’s spark keeps the fire of humanity alive.

In ancient times, Socrates taught not through preaching but by midwifing ideas, helping others give birth to their own truth. Carrey’s parents did the same, though perhaps without realizing it. They midwifed a performer’s soul, helping it to emerge not with fear but with laughter. This is how wisdom is passed down — not always through solemn lectures, but through the simple gestures of love that say, “You are enough. What you do is worthy.” And so, from their laughter came one of the greatest comedians of our age — a man who would bring healing through humor to millions, reflecting the kindness once shown to him.

Thus, the teaching is clear: believe in the sacred foolishness of others. When you see a child being wild, imaginative, or absurd, do not crush it; nurture it. Every act of kindness, every word of belief, plants a future. Encourage creativity even when it seems impractical, for what is called “silly” today may be “brilliant” tomorrow. The greatest gift one can give is permission — permission to try, to play, to fail, to dream.

Practical teaching: Each day, look for someone — a friend, a child, a colleague — and replace criticism with curiosity, judgment with laughter. When someone dares to show you their strange idea, their awkward attempt, say to them as Carrey’s parents did: “That’s funny. That’s wonderful.” In that moment, you become a builder of courage. Remember, a single kind word can turn a fool into a philosopher, a clown into a creator, and a timid child into a soul that dares to shine. For support is the sunlight of the spirit, and under its warmth, all things grow.