I think what I like best about, and what keeps me coming back to

Hear, O seekers of rest and joy, the gentle words of Ryan Paevey, who declared: “I think what I like best about, and what keeps me coming back to work in the Hallmark world is similar to what keeps viewers coming back… of all of the places to go to make believe in TV, there has to be one that’s a safe space, a happy place.” These words, though simple, are a balm to weary hearts. For they remind us that even in the realm of stories and imagination, mankind searches not only for drama and conflict, but for a sanctuary—a space where hope is certain, where kindness prevails, and where the soul can rest in warmth.

The origin of this thought lies in the long tradition of storytelling as refuge. Since the dawn of time, people have gathered around fires to hear tales that soothed their fears and lifted their spirits. Myths of heroes and fair maidens, of justice restored and love redeemed, were not created only for entertainment, but for healing. In every culture, there was a place within the story-world where peace triumphed. The Hallmark world, of which Paevey speaks, is but the modern vessel of this ancient need—a continuation of mankind’s eternal longing for the happy place within the landscape of imagination.

This need is not weakness, but wisdom. Consider the children of London during the Blitz of the Second World War. While bombs fell upon their homes, many found escape in the stories of C.S. Lewis, who wrote The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Through his pages, they journeyed into Narnia, where good, though delayed, was never defeated, and where winter gave way to spring. Those tales did not deny the darkness of the world; they offered light strong enough to endure it. So too, Hallmark’s safe space is not ignorance of sorrow, but the creation of a sanctuary against it.

And yet, Paevey’s words remind us that this safe space is not only for viewers, but also for the makers. The actor, too, is healed in the telling. Just as the singer feels the music pass through him, so the storyteller feels the comfort of the tale he brings to others. Thus, the joy of creating and the joy of receiving become one. In this way, the happy place is not merely a product of the story, but a shared circle between those who craft and those who watch.

The ancients would call this the work of catharsis: the cleansing of the soul through story. For while tragedy purges grief, comedy restores delight, and romance renews hope. Paevey honors this truth by recognizing that among the many realms of make believe, there must always be one that is wholly devoted to joy, where those who are burdened can lay their burdens down, if only for a time. Without such places, the soul would starve for sweetness, as a body starves without bread.

Therefore, O listener, the lesson is clear: seek and protect the safe spaces in your life. Do not scorn them as childish or weak, for they are the wells from which courage is drawn. Whether it is a story, a song, a home, or a friendship, every soul requires a haven where it can remember what is good and pure. In such havens, the spirit heals and finds the strength to face the world anew.

Practical action lies before you. Create for yourself a happy place, whether in art, in companionship, or in simple acts of gratitude. Offer such spaces to others as well: a kind word, a listening ear, or a story that lifts their hearts. When the world grows heavy, return to these sanctuaries, not to escape life forever, but to refresh yourself for its battles. For even the strongest warrior must have a tent of peace where he may rest.

So remember the wisdom of Ryan Paevey: among all the realms of make believe, there must be one that is a safe space, a happy place. Cherish it, return to it, and share it, for in doing so, you join the ancient chain of storytellers and healers who have always known that joy is not luxury, but necessity, and that in joy, the human soul finds its truest strength.