Monday, April 15, 2013

Laugh Yoga

What a lark is laughter! What a peal of silver bubbles from the mouth of a cartoon fish.

Remembering my son's first laugh (a monkey-meets-dog sound of delight) makes me want to snort my morning latte.  When was the last time I laughed like that?

I laugh socially yip yip yip. Like a prairie dog. If I read something witty I go, haw. I'm known to point to funny signs, like the one I saw yesterday that was trying to say mousse, but said Semi-Freddo Espresso Mouse. But doubled over, helpless, limp in laughter; I love it so much because it happens to me so rarely.

My sister said of a photo of our father (who is always in a Tilly hat) off the coast of Africa, "There's the Hat leaving Gambia" and I felt a crack in the wall of my stoic subdue. Why was that funny? was my immediate reaction. No wonder I don't laugh often. I'm fine combing the sand.

Why ask why? In laugh yoga (a yoga fantastically easier for me than the regular kind) the point is not to tell a good joke or even to get the punchline, but simply to laugh, because it feels good who cares why; and even rats (I remind myself) will nudge the experimenter's hand for more because they want to be tickled again and again even if it is just for research.