On the consequences of comical disposition
We are constantly told to apply humour against oneself and reduce self-importance.
(See, for example: Taking yourself seriously, laughing at yourself, and the importance of what others think of you.)
There is certainly an immediate, initial relief both in the bodily process of laughing and the triumphant humiliation over all things.
It sounds good.
Yet, as soon as we take a longer view, consequences become dark.
All things, including oneself, would by then be painfully seen as unimportant and consistently emptied of worth.
All things — as was said elsewhere — barring precisely the heinous ones.
(See: Towards the thesis that the only thing safe from ridicule is evil.)
That is, the aforementioned advice put the focus on the benefit of reducing the importance of a torturous situation, but overlooks that the world goes on, and the established unimportance would apply, likewise, to everything: even the encouraging traces and the authentic joy — the one of the child, though not crudely childish. The smile: untouched by the adult laughter that laughs, from above, at the ridiculousness beneath everything.
Not to mention, moreover, the possible long-term, delayed and hidden consequences a cumulative ridicule might well bring to oneself.
(See: Patterns: delayed effects of accumulation.)
Since, on the other hand, the comical disposition — the humorous sight — could be easily interpreted as the inevitable result of experiencing ridicule for so long, everywhere, we are driven to ask:
Does the counsel itself make sense?
Are we even capable of choosing whether we put it into practice or not?
Are we, even if only a little, free to embrace the ridicule in everyone, in everything (except evil)?
(See: ‘5. Some — mysterious — voluntary element in embracing hope’, in Hope as evidence — Not about feelings.)
I think we evidently are. Just like we can decide upon faith, charity and hope, as well as the other virtues and the vices.