There's something about the ukulele that just makes you smile. It

Jake Shimabukuro, master of strings and ambassador of joy, once proclaimed: “There’s something about the ukulele that just makes you smile. It makes you let your guard down. It brings out the child in all of us.” In these words lies not merely praise of an instrument, but revelation of its spirit. For the ukulele, small and unassuming, carries within it a power beyond its size—the power to disarm sorrow, to soften pride, and to awaken the innocence that slumbers in every soul.

The ancients would have recognized this truth. They knew that certain instruments had the capacity to reach beyond reason and touch the deepest recesses of the heart. David’s harp soothed the tormented spirit of King Saul; Orpheus with his lyre was said to charm beasts and bend even the will of Hades. Just so does the ukulele, with its bright tones and gentle strumming, remind us of laughter, of sunlight, of the playfulness of childhood. It is not grand like the organ or fierce like the drum, but precisely in its simplicity lies its disarming power.

Consider how soldiers in times of war carried small instruments to keep their spirits alive. In the Second World War, the ukulele became a companion to many, light enough to carry yet rich enough to spark songs that eased the weariness of battle. In those moments, surrounded by fear and uncertainty, men found comfort in its cheerful chords. It was not the roar of power that sustained them, but the reminder of home, of innocence, of the child within that still longed for peace.

Shimabukuro’s words also reveal a deeper wisdom about the guard we wear in daily life. So many cloak themselves in seriousness, striving to appear strong, untouchable, important. Yet the ukulele cuts through these masks. Its very sound invites us to laugh at ourselves, to set aside dignity for delight, to rediscover the freedom of not needing to pretend. In its music we are reminded that life is not only labor and struggle, but also play, wonder, and joy.

Mark this well: to bring out the child in us is not to regress, but to return to purity. The child trusts, delights, creates without fear of judgment. To hear the ukulele is to recall this forgotten state, when a song could be sung without care for perfection, and a smile came easily. This, too, is strength—not the hardened strength of stone, but the living strength of a river, flowing, flexible, unafraid.

Practical wisdom springs forth: seek out the things that make you smile, the instruments, the arts, the small joys that lower your guard and reconnect you to innocence. Do not despise the playful as trivial, for it is in play that the spirit is renewed. Share such moments with others; play a song, tell a joke, embrace simplicity. These are not wastes of time, but the very practices that restore the heart and keep it whole amid the weight of the world.

Therefore, O seeker, let Jake Shimabukuro’s words be your guide. Do not scorn the little things that awaken joy, for they hold great power. Embrace the ukulele, or whatever brings laughter into your life. Let it make you smile, let it lower your guard, let it awaken the child within you. For in that rediscovered innocence lies true strength—the strength to live with lightness, to carry joy into the world, and to remind others that life, at its core, is a song meant to be played with a smile.