Kahlil Gibran’s words resonate deeply and make me think of emotions in a non-traditional way: “Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children.”

There’s something profoundly human in his insistence that our wisdom, philosophy, and greatness should be deeply felt and connected to the essence of life—emotions.

For me, laughter is everything. Technically, it’s not an emotion, but in my world, it might as well be. It’s my default setting, my coping mechanism, my way of making sense of the world. There’s wisdom in laughter—a way to bridge the gap between the harshness of reality and the softness of hope. Laughter allows us to endure, to see the absurdities of life, and still find joy.

And then there are tears—those moments when wisdom becomes so raw, so true, that it’s impossible not to feel it in every fiber of your being. Tears should never be brushed off as weakness; they’re the echoes of our deepest truths, the moments when wisdom touches the core of who we are.

Children—oh, children! My son, my one and only, is the epitome of possibility. Watching him grow, seeing the world through his eyes, reminds me that greatness isn’t about power or prestige. True greatness lies in humility, in bowing before the untainted perspective of a child. They teach us that wonder, awe, and curiosity are the real treasures in life.

Perhaps, in a world that often feels cynical, we need more of what Gibran speaks of—wisdom that cries, philosophy that laughs, and greatness that isn’t afraid to kneel before a child’s endless potential. Because in those moments, we find what truly matters.