He is bent over in my garden, holding his aching ribs, twitching with laughter. This is quite impressive as just two days before he had been in hospital with suspected swine flu. His face was swelling up faster than a hippo with water retention and his voice sounded like porky pig with a taste for helium.
Thankfully (?) it wasn’t swine flu, but an illegal tattoo that became infected and made Danny so sick that he’d split his esophagus (hence the fluid under his skin and the weird reaction in his voice box). And now that the anti bios had kicked in and his voice had returned to it’s slightly high, Norfolk twang, neither of us are able to stop laughing. Hysterically.
I love a bit of laughter.
You can’t NOT love laughter, can you?
Laughter is pure gorgeousness.
And it heals.
Read this …
“Back in 1979, The New England Journal of Medicine published a report based on Norman Cousins, a noted journalist and editor of the Saturday Review. In the 1960s Cousins had been diagnosed with a debilitating spinal disease and given a 1/500 chance of survival. Based on his belief in the importance of environment on healing, Cousins checked himself out of the hospital and into a hotel, where he took large doses of vitamin C and watched continual episodes of Candid Camera and the Marx Brothers. He found, over time, that laughter stimulated chemicals in his body that allowed him several hours of pain-free sleep. He continued the treatment until, eventually, his disease went into remission, and he was able to return to work. The study became the basis for a best-selling book, Anatomy of an Illness, as well as a television movie of the same name.”
There is an amazing quote by Victor Frankl that goes, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”
To be able to have something happen, briefly feel the twang of pain and then bridge that gap by seeing the comedy is utterly liberating. In that tiny gap between something happening and the emotion that follows, we have a split second to choose our perspective.
I have and will always choose comedy.
Below is a video that was taken a couple of weeks ago at the kid’s sports day. It is of my wonderful, hilarious, side splitting, pant wetting friend, the Naughty Nordy (she’s the bin-liner model from my lumi jacket post). Every time I feel myself getting into an experience of feeling sad or anxious, I watch this little vid on my phone and it makes me cry with laughter.
Laughter is an experience shifter. Use it in great helpings. And if you don’t want to, it’s very simple. Go home.