When the World Gets Heavy, Hold On to What Makes You Smile

There are mornings when you turn on the television, open your phone, or simply look around at the people you know and wonder how much more the world can take.

Someone is grieving the loss of a parent. Someone else is fighting an illness nobody can see. Families are watching wars unfold thousands of miles away while other families are living through them firsthand. People are working harder than ever and still wondering how they are going to pay the electric bill, buy groceries, or make the next mortgage payment.

Life can be incredibly beautiful.

But sometimes, the world can be a horrible place.

And none of us gets through it untouched.

That’s why I have come to believe something very strongly: find what brings you joy and do it.

Don’t apologize for it. Don’t be embarrassed by it. And certainly don’t let somebody else convince you that you’re too old to enjoy something that makes your heart a little lighter.

For me, sometimes happiness looks remarkably similar to the things that made me smile when I was a kid.

I can look at Underdog and immediately remember a world where the hero always arrived when someone needed him. There was something wonderfully simple about it. Trouble appeared, Underdog showed up, and somehow you knew everything was going to be okay.

Then there are Bugs Bunny, Sylvester and Tweety—characters that have made generations laugh. I can still see that artwork and almost hear the voices. For a few moments, adulthood disappears. There are no bills, deadlines or bad news alerts. There is just Bugs being Bugs, Sylvester trying desperately to catch Tweety, and that familiar feeling of Saturday morning.

Then there is He-Man.

Looking at that classic figure takes me right back to childhood toy aisles and afternoons when a plastic figure, a sword and an imagination could create an entire universe. Eternia didn’t require an internet connection. You simply sat on the floor and created the adventure yourself.

The same thing happens when I see that classic G.I. Joe artwork.

Those characters weren’t pieces of plastic to us. They were pilots, soldiers, heroes and villains occupying enormous worlds we created in our bedrooms and backyards. One figure could provide hours of adventure.

And then there are those wonderful original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles figures.

Bright colors. Crazy weapons. Completely ridiculous concepts.

And absolutely perfect.

Today I understand something I couldn’t possibly have understood then.

Collecting isn’t really about owning things.

It’s about connection.

A hobby can introduce you to people you otherwise never would have met. Suddenly you have friends hundreds or thousands of miles away who understand why finding an old action figure at a flea market can make your entire weekend. You trade stories, photographs, memories and jokes. Someone sends you something because they know you’ve been looking for it—not because they expect something back, but simply because they want to make another person happy.

That matters.

Especially now.

Because while hobbies can give us happiness, I believe our greatest responsibility remains what we give to other people.

Be kind when there is nothing in it for you.

Help somebody without announcing that you helped them.

Listen when someone needs to talk.

Have empathy for people whose struggles you don’t completely understand.

Give without keeping score.

Sometimes the smallest act of kindness reaches someone at exactly the moment they were beginning to believe nobody cared.

We can’t stop every war.

We can’t cure every disease.

We can’t prevent every loss.

And we certainly can’t fix every problem facing the world.

But we can decide what kind of people we’re going to be while we’re here.

We can bring a little happiness into somebody else’s day.

And we can allow ourselves happiness too.

So watch the cartoons.

Buy the action figure.

Build the collection.

Go to the convention.

Talk about G.I. Joe with your friends for three hours.

Display He-Man proudly.

Laugh at Bugs Bunny.

Remember Saturday mornings.

Never be ashamed of the harmless things that make you happy.

Because sometimes a little plastic action figure isn’t really an action figure at all.

Sometimes it’s a memory.

Sometimes it’s a friendship.

Sometimes it’s a reminder of who you used to be.

And on the days when this world feels impossibly heavy, sometimes that little piece of joy is exactly what helps you carry it.