Do You Hear What I Hear?

A freshman from the University of Minnesota showed up at my Laughter Club to conduct a survey for a class. Her team had the subject - Laugh Out Loud. She had the smile of an 18 year old, white and devoid of the coffee stains that await her from daily trips to Starbucks. She wore the college-student uniform of faded jeans, sweatshirt and pony-tail held in place with a headband. She was open and polite. Bright eyed, and actually grateful that her parents were sacrificing to pay for her college tuition. Perfect.

We had 10 laughers that night, ranging in age from 7-85. A group that normally would not mix. We guffawed, danced and did the "Santa Conga Line" - HoHo, HoHo, Ho Ho. We put kiddo in the middle of the circle to be the Christmas tree, and decorated her with Laughter Lights, Bulbs and Tinsel.

Anyone willing to participate was asked to fill out a survey of questions about the group such as, What motivates you to come to Laughter Club? We have a very generous and kind-hearted group who happily answered the questions. Kiddo wanted to fill one out too. After all, she is a charter member of our group, joining when she was just 4 years old. She carefully printed her answer to the first question: How did you hear about Laughter Club?

By listening.

My husband and I giggled about it later, but, as I thought about it, I realized she was right. We get many invitations to participate in life each day. The answer to most of them is something like, that won't work, I have too much to do.

Somehow, through all the noise of life, these laughers heard the invitation. In a clear moment, they listened and tuned into the opportunity. The static of life remained, but they focused on something fresh for a moment.

Later, I drove the college student to her bus stop. I asked her what kind of music she liked. She replied, "Oh just about anything." I started flipping through the dial. Then, I remembered that "Fresh Air" with Terry Gross came on at 8:00 p.m. Delighted, I flipped over to MPR and asked, "Do you ever listen to "Fresh Air?"

"I think my parents do."

I supposed that was right. Even though I feel like that lovely, open 18-year-old, and consider myself young in my thinking compared to some of the parents I meet, I am indeed not 18. I have become like my high school girlfriend's dad, who insisted on listening to talk radio as we were driving home from our local ski hills. At the time, I thought I would die if I had to listen to that droning voice reviewing the news for one more second. What a boring, nerd! And, what a waste of a good car sound system.

As usual, my judgement of another is now being visited on self. I am the geeky parent listening to the news. I have chosen to ignore the static of my To-List and tune into Terry Gross. Of course, Terry Gross is way cooler than whatever Mr. Fleming had on the radio in 1986. Still, I was left with the reality that what we listen to is a reflection of our ability to give a fresh idea an audience.

So, I conceded to her, "Yeah, they probably do listen to NPR," and to myself, I am not 18. My teeth could use some whitening, which is $250 I'm spending on something more important. I never wear a ponytail because I don't want to waste time making perfect ponytails on kiddo's head plus mine before school. I can wear a hat. I don't wear headbands, as I look like my mother circa 1975 when I do. Sweatshirts add 10 extra imaginary pounds to the 30 actual ones that, as my husband says, are "bought and paid for." And so, I laughed out loud.

The Same Old, Same New

Last weekend, I, and a group of my very capable students, led a group of seniors at an assisted living facility in Laughter Yoga. We laughed, clapped and breathed. The results were magnificent! They burst out laughing and didn't stop for 40 minutes. Dolores, a lovely, perfumed, 80-ish woman, with a walker, pink lipstick and an attitude said, "My fibromyalgia gives me so much pain, but the pain is gone. When are you going to come back?"

My first-time laughers tell me about their pain vanishing so often that I am embarrassed to say that I am used to it. I know they are telling me the truth because I have had the same experience with lasting results.

When I started this blog, I was trying to recover from chronic fatigue immune dysfunction, fibromyalgia, chronic back and pelvic pain, and mood disorder. Over fifteen years, I had made some progress, but never a complete recovery. In fact, my healing journey led me to Mayo Clinic to see yet another provider. As I was leaving, I saw a sign that said - The Spirituality of Laughter. "That's for me!" I decided and I invited myself to the seminar. I experienced Laughter Yoga for the first time and my whole life changed. I got certified as a leader and began a daily laughter practice. In the last two years, I have been completely delivered from pain, fatigue and depression. The pain and illness is gone and replaced by joy, gratitude and a new career path. I lead and teach others how to lead Laughter Yoga sessions. I also provide Spiritual Laughter Coaching for those who want to transform stuck areas of their lives and live in serenity.

Over the last year, I have been leading groups of all ages, but primarily seniors who have Alzheimer's disease, dementia and mental illness. I hang out with the forgotten crowd with yellow toenails, poop problems, aches, pains and complaints. In other words, my people. Guess what? They all laugh. No matter what. I am good at what I do, but it is a gift. All of the crap that I have been through that felt like unnecessary torture has been put to good use.

So, I wasn't surprised by Dolores' remark. I hear it all the time from her peers, their staff and loved ones. But, after this class, I heard something that took my breath away.

We finished our Laughter Session and were saying our goodbye and thank you's when a short woman with short, white straight hair surrounding a small bald spot, stepped into the middle of the gathering and announced, "I missed most of the class, but I would like to sing." I gave my permission and she began to sing, "How Great Thou Art" in a tender, flute-like soprano. The entire room began to sing with her.

Here is a room filled with people who live in someone else's home. They are blind and deaf. They push their own wheelchairs by shuffling their feet like Fred Flinstone. They have hands that have twisted so that they can no longer hold them in prayer. They have lost friends and family. They are waiting and wondering why God hasn't taken them.

Yet, for one hour, they got to laugh and experience joy through the gift of Laughter Yoga that we brought to them. Then, they gave us something even more powerful, a witness of faith and praise to a powerful, healing God in the midst of what some would call suffering. I cried at their vulnerability and strength. I am still in awe of the power of faith.

I can't deny the truth of it. I have seen this Power heal me in places that no human power could, knowing that I didn't do anything to deserve it. I think that is what they call grace.

So, after a year hiatus, I am back in the writer's saddle. My child is now 7, and surfing the confusion and elation of first grade. My marriage is strong, and needs careful tending. And I am healthy and pain free.

To those who commented on my post, "No Put Downs, Just Put Ups." Thank you. Your encouragement affirmed my passion for writing about my journey for unconditional serenity. And has helped shape my intentions for my days to come.