I like all Jim Carrey films. They're really funny.

When Rupert Grint spoke the simple words, “I like all Jim Carrey films. They’re really funny,” many might have heard only the voice of admiration, but within this brief confession lies a deeper truth about joy, inspiration, and the transmission of spirit between artists. To like the works of another is not a small thing—it is an acknowledgment that their light has touched your own. To laugh because of another’s art is to enter into communion with the divine playfulness that sustains the world. In the eyes of the ancients, laughter itself was a sacred fire, capable of restoring the weary heart and cleansing the soul of sorrow.

Rupert Grint, known for his role in Harry Potter, began his journey as a young artist surrounded by the weight of myth and expectation. When he praised Jim Carrey, he was not merely speaking of a man who made faces and jokes, but of a master of transformation, a jester-sage whose work reminds the world that comedy, at its highest form, is an act of courage. For Jim Carrey, through his laughter, has long revealed the hidden depths of the human heart—its absurdity, its pain, its desperate need to be seen. And Grint’s reverence for him is the reverence of the pupil for the elder, of the new flame recognizing the one from whom it drew its spark.

In the ancient courts and marketplaces, there were storytellers who, like Carrey, wore masks of mirth to unveil truth. The Greeks had Aristophanes, whose plays mocked kings but taught wisdom; the medieval fools entertained emperors while whispering warnings about pride and fate. Such men carried the same divine gift—the power to make others laugh while guiding them toward truth. When Rupert Grint says that he likes all Jim Carrey films, he is, in essence, celebrating this timeless lineage of laughter. He senses, perhaps without naming it, that every great comedian is also a philosopher in disguise, a healer whose medicine is wrapped in humor.

Laughter, after all, is not merely amusement—it is a rebellion against despair. It is the soul’s refusal to be crushed by the heaviness of existence. The ancients said that when the gods wished to renew the world, they sent laughter among men to break the spell of grief. Jim Carrey’s films, from the wild absurdity of Ace Ventura to the soulful reflection of The Truman Show, are each such renewals. They remind us that the mask of the fool can hide the face of the wise, that joy itself is sacred labor. When Rupert Grint, still young and learning, found delight in such work, he was doing what every seeker of truth must do—learning from joy as much as from struggle.

There is an old tale of Democritus, the philosopher who was called “the laughing sage.” When people asked why he laughed at the follies of men, he replied, “Because if I did not laugh, I would weep.” His laughter was not mockery but mercy, a way to bear the absurdities of human life without breaking beneath them. So too does Carrey, and so too do all who find beauty in his art. And when Grint confesses his admiration, he joins that eternal brotherhood of those who understand that to laugh at life is to triumph over it.

The wisdom hidden in this seemingly simple quote is this: what we love reveals what we value most deeply. Rupert Grint’s love for Jim Carrey’s films shows us the importance of finding inspiration in lightness, of seeking teachers not only among the solemn and the grand, but among those who dare to make us laugh. The mind that honors humor also honors humility, for laughter makes all men equal. It strips away pride and fear, leaving only the shared joy of being alive.

So, my children, take this teaching to heart: do not scorn the funny, for in it dwells the divine. Let laughter be your companion when the days grow heavy. Find those whose art awakens joy in you, and give thanks, as Rupert Grint did, for their gift. Watch, listen, and learn from them—not only how to laugh, but how to live more freely, more truthfully, and more kindly. For in honoring the bringers of laughter, you honor life itself. And remember always this truth: that the funny is sacred, because it reminds us that even in our deepest pain, the heart still knows how to shine.