A favorite writer of mine, Geraldine Brooks, lost her husband to a sudden heart attack several years ago. In “Memorial Days,” her reflection on coming to terms with grief, she wrote this: “Of all the things I miss … it’s this most of all: He made me laugh every single day.”
Laughter is a primary way we connect to one another. To lose that connection is a profound loss indeed, but as Brooks or anyone going through the grieving process discovers, laughter will return, perhaps in different ways and in relation to different people and situations, but we cannot live without humor and its noblest expression, laughter.
The occasions for laughter are so numerous that we cannot possibly keep track of them. We may not notice the laughs that arise spontaneously to sprinkle our daily lives with a playful moment of joy or an off-guard recognition of absurdity. But when something traumatic occurs, when something happens that makes us feel nothing is funny, we may find ourselves, like Brooks, aware that the laughter has been silenced. “I miss those laughs at the end of the day,” Brooks writes. We may not notice laughter’s presence at times, but we can become acutely aware of its absence.
Whether it is true that optimists laugh to forget and pessimists forget to laugh, the presence of laughter in our lives — our ability to laugh — does indicate something about our outlook on life, even the state of our health, physical as well as spiritual. Consider the American journalist and peace activist, Norman Cousins, who was called “The Man Who Laughed in the Face of Death.” Diagnosed with several life-threatening maladies, Cousins resorted to watching sit coms and programs such as “Candid Camera” to generate laughter, writing that “ten minutes of genuine belly laughter had an anesthetic effect [that] would give me at least two hours of pain-free sleep.” Watching old Marx Brothers movies was a favorite. Cousins was an advocate of what has come to be called laughter therapy or therapeutic humor, which, it must be said, is noted for its affordability. It is today an adjunct therapy for cancer patients, and it can lead to pain reduction, increased serotonin levels and lowered blood pressure.
Laugher can be beneficial physically. Norman Cousins lived much longer than predicted. But it has less tangible but no less important benefits spiritually. Laughter yoga began in Mumbai, India and emphasizes breathing and mindfulness meditation; and practitioners often get the laugher started without any specific humorous object — the laughter itself is enough to generate a health benefit to both body and spirit. Pascal, the French philosopher, once said if you have dried up spiritually and can’t pray, go to church and go through the motions — faith and practice will eventually align, and that appears to be the model for laughter yoga.
Laughter is a sign of connection and transcendence. It has been important for Christian mystics in their emphasis on joy. A tradition of good luck, joy and spiritual generosity arose in the folk tradition of a “Laughing Buddha,” and icons of a fat, jolly Buddha abound. Zen Buddhism associates satori or the sudden enlightenment experience with laughter: “As they say in Zen, when you attain satori, nothing is left you but to have a good laugh” remarked American Buddhist Alan Watts. When enlightenment sneaks up on a person, laughter signals the folly of clinging to anything in the face of impermanence, and the laughter reminds us of our limitations, our ego-centric pretensions and our spiritual need to laugh at ourselves.
That laughter is important to us is apparent in so many ways. Psychologists have investigated in academic studies how humor presents “a potentially important variable in facilitating relationship satisfaction in romantic couples.” We spend entertainment dollars for the chance to laugh, and professional comedians have become ever present in our streaming lives, not just a Jim Gaffigan and Nate Bargatze, but all those past laugh-masters who can reappear electronically at a moment’s notice — Johnny Carson or Milton Berle or Will Rogers. Laughter is freedom: spontaneous laughter is irrepressible, and it doesn’t shy away from the political — it refuses to be repressed by power or silenced by the powerful. Comedians who poke fun at the absurdities of contemporary politics give voice to serious concerns that become less ominous when made the subject of laughter.
Laughter heals. It moves us into the present moment and quiets the chatter of our internal monologues. It points us away from self-preoccupation and allows us to connect in a friendly way with life’s absurdities. It allows us to gain perspective when we are in danger of losing it. As comedian Bob Newhart said, “Laughter gives us distance. It opens us to transcendent self-forgetting moments so that we can step back from an event, deal with it and then move on.” There’s an old proverb, “If you’re too busy to laugh, you’re too busy.” A life well lived will be lived with laughter.
This is a contributed opinion column. Lloyd Steffen is university chaplain and professor of religion, culture and society at Lehigh University. The views expressed in this piece are those of its individual author and should not be interpreted as reflecting the views of this publication. Lloyd Steffen is university chaplain and professor of religion, culture and society at Lehigh University.
