At one point during my first marriage, my wife and I looked at each other through tears saying simultaneously, “We’ve got to laugh more.” We’d just been laughing, belly aching hard, over something that is lost to my memory. It was fun to be breathless from humour rather than daily toil. We knew we had been missing something with our laser focus being trained on the responsibility of parenting three little boys. We were strung out on diapers, defiant temper tantrums and sibling squabbles. Laughter is the best medicine, at least that’s what Reader’s Digest said back then, and we realized in that hysterical moment that we had been laugh deprived.
I’m a serious guy by nature and I know I don’t laugh enough. I prefer topics of conversation that go deep. My shoulders seem adapted to carry the weight of the world. Some people hide from the dark side of life while I can be a bit intimidated by a room full of chortling people. For just an insane moment I’ll think that I am the butt of someone’s joke and it puts me off balance. My mom used to be a master of sarcasm, which I never learned to master. She would preach that her humour was an attempt to make a person laugh at themselves; “Come on I’m just kidding!” I think she had a twisted understanding of the phrase, ‘Laugh with me, not at me.’
There is probably a reason why late night talk shows are so popular. We do need to laugh at ourselves and the situations we find ourselves in when everything seems so grim. We need the news delivered with a dash of comedy; just a spoon full of sugar and all that miserable stuff is a tad easier to swallow. History is filled with examples of clowns and jesters presiding over a community spectacle while our fellow citizens were led to the gallows by the executioner’s hand. Slapstick comedy comes from such roots: Someone falling is irresistibly funny in spite of our desire to express empathy for a person’s plight. My favourite comedians are still The Three Stooges yet they are consistently mean to each other. Go figure.
Maybe laughter is a judgement on us and from us. My wise 94 year old mother-in-law asked me recently if I can I laugh at myself. I wondered what she was getting at. I gave her a philosophical answer along the lines of not enjoying being teased. I said I didn’t like it if I thought someone was laughing at my expense. She sort of went, “hmmm”. Which made me feel judged. I wanted to go all Popeye on her telling her to accept me as I am. In the end it wasn’t an issue, just a question, and there I go again being too serious.
Laughing out loud is an expression of our soul. Like showing any emotion, a laugh can connect us to our spirit. I’ll start with a chuckle and see if I can work my way up to a roar.
Catch My Drift? 