Loaded for humor…
Humor has become increasingly important to me as a consequence of some recent health challenges. I’ve been corresponding with an old friend (define “old” in any way you wish, but I will say we attended kindergarten together in the dark ages.) Both of us have a sense of humor. In our correspondence, I find myself returning, again and again, to our mutual emails, re-reading the more tongue-in-cheek comments with a real sense of merriment, chortling, and occasionally, outright laughter. On one hand, it’s a bit embarrassing to say I re-read my humorous writing, but it makes me laugh! Cheap therapy.
Then it hit me for those of you old enough to remember the name, Norman Cousins. In 1978, Cousins wrote a book called “Anatomy of an Illness.” He was suffering, at that time, from an almost untreatable medical condition and used laughter (silly movies and tv shows, humorous literature) as a way to relieve the pain; it worked. I love self empowerment in any life venue and laughter isn’t a bad way to go.
Thank heavens for that uninhibited (well, mostly) child who still lives in me (and you), joyously willing to make faces, talk funny, and be totally alive and unselfconscious in the moment. Mainlining freedom and joy. (I dare you to try it! Oh, come on.) If the TV show Candid Camera still existed and filmed me, I might feel embarrassed. (OMG, just LOOK at what she’s doing!) On the other hand, just how bad can uninhibited, open-hearted, laughter be?
And, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading back to re-read my hysterical emails to my old friend. As I said, cheap therapy….
❤️Please consider sharing with others. Who couldn’t use more heart and humor?
Thank you for this Jan.
I can tell myself the funniest stories just by visualizing silly and crazy things I’ve done with others of like mind, or with my adult children. Like the time my daughter heavily spanked a raw egg as it was trying to roll off the counter top.
Or My dad--who lived out the last 7 years of his life on our acreage here in Southern Maine--and I would banter back and forth with sometime dark humor that if someone who was listening in that didn’t know us, would probably be appalled!
Eg; “Did you hear Joe so-an-so croaked the other day?” (He loved that irreverent word for death.) “Oh really? Anything serious?” “No, just a heart attack.” Then he’d add, “Lucky bastard!”
Dad lived out behind our old chicken coop in his 23 foot fifth wheel camper. When asked if he’d lived here all his life? He’d answer in true Yankee fashion, “Not yet.” He finally achieved “yet-ness” at the age of 92.
I have been going through some physical “calisthenics” the past two plus years-diving under anesthesia two and three times, only to come up for air, and not asking for my husband, but asking for my teeth. My intention is to keep on swimming (and LOL-ing) until I can finish with riding that last wave into the New Year.
Yes, laughter truly is the best medicine! 😄