It's not about being happy 100 percent all the time, cause that's

Hear, O seekers of harmony and meaning, the words of the singer Kyle, who spoke with wisdom drawn from the soul of music: “It’s not about being happy 100 percent all the time, cause that’s just life. I make sad songs, too, that really only make the happy songs better.” In this saying lies a profound truth about balance, about the rhythm of joy and sorrow, about how the darkness of pain deepens the light of gladness. His words remind us that happiness without sadness would be shallow, and that the presence of sorrow gives true sweetness to joy.

The meaning of his words is that life is not, and cannot be, unbroken happiness. To expect constant joy is to misunderstand the human journey. Life is woven of many threads—some golden with laughter, others dark with grief. If one tries to deny the darker colors, the tapestry becomes false and lifeless. Kyle embraces both, choosing to create sad songs alongside joyful ones, understanding that sorrow is not an enemy but a companion that allows joy to shine more brightly. The mountain is only majestic because the valley lies below it.

History is filled with examples that echo this truth. Consider the psalms of King David. Some were triumphant, filled with praise and exultation, but many were songs of despair, sorrow, and lamentation. Yet together, they form a book of profound beauty, because the sorrow gives weight to the joy, and the joy gives relief to the sorrow. In the same way, Beethoven composed both storm and sunshine, letting the crashing symphonies of his pain make the lighter dances of his music even more radiant. Without sorrow, art—and life itself—loses its depth.

The sad songs Kyle speaks of are not meant to trap us in despair, but to help us recognize our full humanity. When we hear a song that reflects our pain, we know we are not alone. And when we then hear a song of joy, it strikes more deeply, because we understand what it means to have come through the storm into the light. This is why sad songs make happy ones more powerful: they teach us to honor the full spectrum of emotion, and to celebrate joy as a hard-won gift rather than a shallow indulgence.

The lesson we must take from this is that sadness has value. It is not a flaw in life, but a teacher. It humbles us, softens us, makes us compassionate. It reminds us of what matters most, and it gives us contrast, so that when joy comes, it does not pass unnoticed but is embraced with gratitude. To flee sorrow is to flee half of life. To accept it is to prepare the soul for deeper joy.

The warning is clear: those who chase only happiness will never find it. They will exhaust themselves, always grasping for an impossible perfection. But those who accept sorrow as part of life will discover that even pain has beauty, and even darkness has lessons. The person who knows grief can appreciate laughter more fully, just as the one who has known hunger savors bread more deeply than the one who has never gone without.

As for practical action, let us embrace all emotions as sacred. When sadness comes, do not despise it, but let it teach you patience and empathy. When joy comes, receive it with both hands and hold it close. Create your own “songs” of both kinds—whether through art, journaling, storytelling, or the way you live each day. Do not pretend to be “happy 100 percent of the time,” but live truthfully, acknowledging your valleys as well as your peaks. This will make your joys truer, deeper, and more enduring.

Thus, Kyle’s words stand as a teaching for all: “I make sad songs, too, that really only make the happy songs better.” In this, he reveals that life is not a flat note of constant cheer, but a symphony of highs and lows, of pain and healing, of shadow and light. To live fully is not to chase endless happiness, but to embrace the whole song of existence—and to let every sorrow make our joys more radiant.