I think a sense of humor will help get a girl out of a dark

Hear the words of Twyla Tharp, the great choreographer of movement and meaning: “I think a sense of humor will help get a girl out of a dark place.” In this simple statement lies a truth both tender and fierce—the understanding that laughter is not mere frivolity, but a force of survival; that humor is not denial, but defiance; that even in the depths of shadow, the spirit can dance. Tharp, whose art springs from discipline and passion alike, reminds us that the body, the mind, and the soul are one—and that when the world grows heavy, it is often the lightness of the heart that carries us through.

A sense of humor is a torch for the weary traveler in the night. It does not banish darkness, but it gives it shape, and by doing so, makes it bearable. To laugh amid despair is to reclaim power over it—to say, “You will not define me.” The ancients understood this well. The Stoic philosophers taught that when fate crushes the body, the soul must find ways to rise. Epictetus, who lived as a slave, once said that man’s greatest freedom is how he responds to suffering. And what greater response could there be than laughter? Humor is the voice of the unbroken heart, whispering through pain, “I still see the light.”

Tharp speaks from a life of both brilliance and struggle. As a dancer and creator, she has lived in the crucible of art—a place where failure, exhaustion, and doubt are constant companions. Yet through it all, she has found that humor sustains what discipline alone cannot. To create beauty in the face of imperfection requires laughter at oneself, laughter at the chaos of life. The dark place she speaks of is not only despair, but also self-punishment—the shadow that falls when one forgets to forgive oneself. It is humor, not pride, that lifts us from that pit, because laughter reconnects us to humility and hope.

There is a story told of Abraham Lincoln, a man often burdened by melancholy, who carried a deep sadness beneath his calm demeanor. During the Civil War, when the nation was torn and death seemed endless, Lincoln was known to tell stories that made his listeners laugh, even when laughter felt impossible. His humor was not born of levity, but of compassion. It was his way of giving light to others when his own heart was dim. Through laughter, he found resilience—the same truth Tharp teaches: that humor is not escape, but endurance; not foolishness, but faith.

The origin of Tharp’s wisdom lies in the nature of the artist, who must walk daily between joy and despair. To dance, to create, to live fully, one must confront darkness—failure, loss, loneliness. But if one carries humor as a companion, these shadows lose their power to devour. For laughter restores perspective; it reminds us that the world, though vast and complex, is still human, still fallible, still open to joy. The woman—or man—who can laugh in pain is not broken. She is alive, and her laughter is the anthem of her survival.

This lesson reaches beyond art—it touches every soul that has ever faced sorrow. When you are in your dark place, remember that laughter is not betrayal of your pain; it is the bridge out of it. To laugh does not mean you forget your suffering—it means you refuse to drown in it. When you find a way to smile through your tears, you transform grief into grace. The ancients said that the phoenix rises not because it forgets the fire, but because it knows it can survive it. Humor is that same flame of rebirth within us.

Let this, then, be the teaching passed to all who struggle: cultivate your sense of humor as you would a sacred art. When hardship visits, seek the moment that can make you smile. When failure weighs upon you, find the absurdity in your striving. When sorrow threatens to silence you, speak through laughter, and the world will listen anew. This is not naivety—it is strength. The wise do not laugh because life is easy; they laugh because they have seen its difficulty and still choose to love it.

So remember Twyla Tharp’s words: a sense of humor is a compass through shadow, a lifeline through despair, a rhythm that moves the soul when all else falters. To laugh in the dark place is not to deny the night, but to call forth the dawn. Carry your laughter as a shield, your smile as a sword, and your humor as the music that guides you home. For in laughter lives courage, and in courage, the promise of light.