I travel around the world, experiencing every language, every

The words of Lionel Richie ring with both sorrow and wisdom: “I travel around the world, experiencing every language, every religion... some places where there's just no reason to smile, because their lives are so difficult.” In this reflection, he reveals to us a truth that transcends borders and centuries: though joy and laughter may seem universal, there exist corners of the world where hardship crushes even the most natural of human expressions—the smile. The smile, which ought to be as common as the sun’s rising, becomes rare when hunger, war, and suffering bind the spirit in chains.

From the perspective of the ancients, this is a reminder of the fragile bond between circumstance and spirit. In the temples of old, wise men spoke of how the soul’s light could be dimmed by worldly suffering. To travel among nations, to hear the cadence of countless languages, to see the devotion of many religions, and yet to behold faces robbed of joy—this is to touch the depth of human struggle. Lionel Richie’s journey becomes a mirror for us all, showing how much we take for granted when laughter flows freely in our daily lives.

History too gives us stories of this truth. Consider the Irish famine of the 19th century. Millions faced starvation, exile, and death. Visitors described entire villages where children’s eyes carried no laughter, where smiles had vanished, not from choice but from despair. And yet, from those same people arose songs and laments that carried their sorrow into eternity. The absence of smiles became a testimony, a sacred reminder that when life’s burdens grow too heavy, even joy itself can be stolen away.

And yet, hidden in Lionel Richie’s words is also a call to compassion. For if there are places where smiles vanish, there must also be hearts willing to bring them back. The traveler, the artist, the healer, the teacher—all are called not only to witness suffering but to bring with them seeds of hope. Even when there is no reason to smile, the gift of kindness can plant one. Thus, the lesson is not only about observing despair but about answering it.

One is reminded of the story of Mother Teresa in Calcutta, who walked among the poor and dying. She often said that the greatest poverty was not hunger of the stomach but hunger of the heart. Yet in those streets, where life was unbearably difficult, she bent low and gave people a reason to smile again. Her work was not grandiose—it was washing wounds, holding hands, whispering dignity into the ears of the forgotten. And in so doing, she proved that even in places without reason for joy, joy could be reborn.

The wisdom here is clear: when you encounter suffering in the world, do not turn away. Do not be content with your own ease while others bear such weight. Remember Lionel Richie’s words as a reminder that the smile is not guaranteed; it is a treasure, sometimes withheld by circumstance. If your life allows you to smile, let gratitude guide you. And if you find others who cannot, then let your presence, your service, or even your gentle kindness become the bridge that carries them toward one.

Thus the teaching I pass on is this: carry your smile as a torch, not only for yourself but for those trapped in darkness. Recognize the difficulty of lives not your own, honor their struggles, and let your compassion create a reason for them to rise, to hope, to feel human again. For though there are lands where joy is buried deep beneath suffering, the human spirit still longs for it. And you, my child, can be the one to kindle it anew.

So remember: to travel the world is to see both the heights of human culture and the depths of human struggle. Let not your eyes merely behold, but let your heart be moved. If there are places with no reason to smile, then may you be the reason. That is the highest calling of those who have been blessed with joy—to share it where it has been forgotten.