I have seen life from the top down and the bottom up. I know how

In the words of L. Ron Hubbard, there resounds a voice that has journeyed through both the heights of triumph and the depths of despair: “I have seen life from the top down and the bottom up. I know how it looks both ways. And I know there is wisdom and that there is hope.” These words carry the weight of a man who has walked through the dual landscapes of existence — of light and shadow, of power and poverty, of clarity and confusion — and emerged with the calm assurance that beyond all struggle, wisdom awaits, and beyond all darkness, hope endures.

To see life from the top down is to witness the world from a vantage of abundance — where vision is broad, where the soul tastes the air of freedom, and where one may be tempted to believe that strength and intelligence alone rule the earth. But to see life from the bottom up is to feel the dust of the road, to taste hunger and humiliation, to understand the fragile beating of the human heart. It is there, in the dirt and sweat of hardship, that humility is born. Only those who have stood in both realms can truly grasp the balance of existence — that joy and sorrow, success and failure, are threads woven by the same eternal loom.

Consider the tale of Nelson Mandela, who knew the glory of leadership and the agony of imprisonment. From the heights of political power to the depths of Robben Island, he saw the world from both sides. Yet through it all, he carried the same conviction that Hubbard speaks of — that there is wisdom in suffering and hope in endurance. Mandela did not emerge bitter from his captivity; he emerged wiser, for he had learned that power without compassion is hollow, and despair without purpose is slavery. Such is the alchemy of the human spirit, which turns pain into understanding and loss into enlightenment.

To know life both ways is to understand its paradox: that those who fall the deepest often rise the highest. For the soil that buries also nourishes. The man who has never stumbled upon the stones of adversity cannot know the taste of resilience. The soul that has never felt powerless cannot comprehend mercy. Thus, the wise do not curse their hardships; they embrace them as teachers, for they know that wisdom is forged in fire and polished in the winds of trial.

There is also hope, says Hubbard — not the fragile hope of wishful thinking, but the enduring hope born from experience. It is the hope that persists even when the night is long, because one has seen dawn before. It is the hope that whispers to the weary, “You have been here before and still you rose.” Hope, when strengthened by knowledge, becomes faith; and faith, when tempered by suffering, becomes unbreakable. This is the kind of hope that rebuilds nations, heals hearts, and renews civilizations.

In these words lies a call to every soul: to seek understanding through contrast, to learn not only from victory but from defeat. The wise do not isolate themselves in comfort nor despair in hardship. They walk the middle path — the road of awareness — knowing that both mountain and valley are sacred teachers. As the ancients said, “The path to heaven runs through the heart of the earth.” To live only at the top is arrogance; to remain only at the bottom is despair. But to journey through both is enlightenment.

So let the young remember this: when life humbles you, it is not to destroy you but to deepen your sight. When it lifts you high, it is not to crown you but to test your mercy. The measure of a life is not in where one stands, but in how one understands. As Hubbard himself reminds us, those who have seen life from every height and depth know a truth beyond words — that there is wisdom in struggle, and that even in the darkest night, there is always hope for the dawn.