When Dad was dying, we had a good giggle.
I've always been one to laugh at seemingly inappropriate times. Take my final year of high school, for example, having to stand up and present a speech on euthanasia and collapsing in hysterical laughter, so much that I was told to take a walk around the school that I was told to calm down. Three times I lapped the grounds, chuckling so hard I had tears rolling down my face. Needless to say, I failed. I never could get myself together. Somehow that emotional overload of presenting a speech to my peers was far too much for me, and the only way I could vent was through laughter, a coping mechanism for my teen angst.
I recall Dad falling off my horse so hard he pissed blood for a week. I looked back as I thundered along on my other horse, a skewbald pinto called Bayleaf, just in time to see him thwack the ground, and the animal screech to a halt and look at him as if to say: what you doing down there, man? - though I knew he'd twitched his whole body sideways to throw his rider off on purpose. Hilarious. I was cackling as I leapt off Bay and raced to Dad's side to make sure nothing was broken. I deeply cared for my father, but my body seemed to think this was hilariously funny.
Years later, suffering from panic attacks in a hotel room in Melbourne where we were sequestered away from greater Melbourne by virtue of the possibility we were infected with COVID and had the potential to bring the nation to it's knees with what I have recently heard the Betoota Advocate, an Australian satirical site, call the pangolin virus. Pangolin, because they're genetically 99 percent similar to the virus sequence. Pangolins aside, I'm on my hands and knees hyperventilating at 3 am, in utter panic mode. It is not pleasant being locked in a hotel room for two weeks. It felt a little like this:
What does one do when they are on their hands and knees dying? Compose lyrics to the tune of, and bastardising the lyrics of, The Eagles Hotel California. I to this day think I was the first, though some have followed:
Welcome to the Hotel Quarantina
Such a lonely place (such a lonely place)
Such a lonely space
We’re not living it up at the Hotel Quarantina
Not a nice surprise (not a nice surprise)
Bring your forks and knives
Think you are going somewhere
Maybe you think twice
You are all just prisoners here of Morrison’s device
And in our four walled chambers
We gather for the feast
We stab it with our plastic knives
But we just can't kill the beast
Last thing we remember
They permanently shut the door
I had to find diazepam pack
To stop me waking up at four
"Relax", said the hotel staff
We’ll try to give you some relief
You can check out in twelve days or so
Won’t be long before you leave
Back to my father dying, then.
We joked a lot. The family has never forgotten, being crowded beside his hospital bed, surrounded by doctors being asked how he was going. Without any self consciousness or sense of irony, he replied: 'Well, I did have an erection this morning!'. All medical staff and family present were doing uttmost to stifle guffaws. But sadness and laughter brought us closer as a family. It eased the tension. It made us feel that life was a little more normal. A little less like we were about to lose a man we loved. I was so grateful for parents that felt and expressed hope, and didn't want to dwell on death, but focus on life, and love, and laughter. That is a way to die, I remembered thinking. One day I hope to honour that.
Being an emotional person - I feel tremendously, and largely - I store tension in my body whenever I am sad, frustrated, angry, or nervous. It sticks in my tissues, tightens my psoas, contracts my diaphragm. Laughter releases all of that. It causes all that tension stored in my solar plexus to release and dissipate. Our bodies often want to laugh, whether we want them to or not. Our bodies know that laughter can release tension, and it seeks to protect itself against the difficult and traumatic things that might be happening around us.
We weren't giggling because my father was dying, we were giggling because we were coping with him dying.
So it is with me - laughter is always a release from tension.
Last week, I had one awful night of nightmares where my anxieties played out and I woke crying, and cried for some time, letting the shower water wash away my tears. The following night I dreamt I was checking mandarins for a heartbeat by holding them up to my ear. Mandarins, it turns out, have tiny hearts that beat rhythmically when they are ripe. When I remembered this dream fact in the shower, I couldn't stop laughing. What an antidote that was to alleviate the previous night's horror. My body needed to shake loose that tension. Never mind that my husband thought I was just an incy bit cuckoo, listening to my hysteria hit fever pitch in the ensuite.
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I married a man who makes me laugh every day. He has a lovely, dry British humour I appreciate. I remember the first time we laughed together, eighteen years ago, stoned on a couch. It was a British sitcom called 'Early Doors' and we laughed at one inane joke so hard our faces contorted. I knew then he was a keeper. It was a raw, open, beautiful moment of pure joy. We've had many since. Laughing together has often been an anathema to the stresses of the world we encounter outside the gentleness of our home together. Thinking of him makes me smile. That is love.
One day my father will die, and I will smile, and remember the times where we laughed, and brought joy to each other's lives.
Laughter connects us. It helps us cope by relieving tension. It eases that which is uneasy, awkward and uncomfortable. It's a powerful icebreaker. It's needed in a world that renders us into puddles of crying despair in the base of a shower.
This post was written in response to Natural Medicine & Holos-Lotus's joint 'Laughter as Medicine' challenge, open until 24th July. You can find the challenge guidelines in the Natural Medicine community, or for the Spanish community, in the Holos-Lotus community. There's around 100 HIVE in prizes courtesy of @theycallmedan, @naturalmedicine, @justinparke, @holos-lotus and me, @riverflows. You can talk about the benefits of laughter, or perhaps write a post that makes us laugh.
A very emotional experience that enlivens the power of laughter not only to relieve tension, but also as a wellness strategy that allows us to look at the reality we experience from a more human point of view and that definitely connects us with love and those we love in any circumstance.
Thank you for sharing this little piece of your story with us. Blessings ✨
THanks very much. xx
After I wrote this there were a few others I wanted to include, but didn't. Is life a series of amusing anecdotes?
Que buena historia. Sabias que masticar un pedacito de concha de mandarina ayuda a bajar los niveles de ansiedad. Pruébalo y después cuéntame tu experiencia. Tal vez eso era lo que te quería decir tu cuerpo a través de tu sueño
So it is with me - laughter is always a release from tension.Hi @riverflows , when I first started performing on the piano in church, I'd been taking lessons only a couple of years, but I had taken to it quite well.
Still, the jitters, those butterflies in the stomach are with me to this day 52 yrs later.
There is a spring inside of me that winds up as I'm performing the first song, until finally it lets loose, and I make a horrendous (to me) mistake (that I am universally told would not have been noticed had I not) and I will giggle out loud.
I'm fine after that. Odd thing that, no?
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It's not odd - it's a perfectly rational response your body makes to relieve tension! I thought I was odd for years though, so I totally get it. I love how you describe it as a spring that winds and loosens - that's exactly it! Thanks for stopping by!
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I certainly identified with the post @riverflows (condolences for your Father), and that is exactly how I've always described it, you'd be surprised how many people just don't GET it.
Any way, thanks
I am both bereft for you and overjoyed for you. I'm not, however, laughing. What a gorgeous post. Excellent work.
I've been meaning to ask after your father, but didn't know how to. I remember your talking about his illness a couple of years ago (it seems). Sounds like the whole family has great coping skills. Is he in hospital now?
Thanks so much. Dad is fine now, but he is still on last of trial drugs which knock him about a bit. Bit of a miracle man really. A lot to be said for a positive attitude, good food, love and laughter.
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Good to read your memories. I also lost my father, it's going to be a decade soon. But still, I don't feel comfortable talking about his death or any memory.
Your words inspire me.
You must miss him still. It's so hard to lose those you love. I hope you have some nice memories. 💚💚💚🙏🏼
That was a beautiful piece, one I can totally relate to. Thank you for that.
My dad was my great teacher in laughter too. He always had a joke ready or just reacted with one, even in serious circumstances, which helped alleviate even the harshest emotional conditions. In fact, I often judged the approachability of people by how they reacted to dad, because he was able to slip into people's good graces so easily, that if someone remained intractable or angry in his presence, I knew they were difficult to deal with in general.
This is a magnificent, wholehearted post. Subtle balance between raw emotional power and refined language. Beautiful! Blessings always, dear!
Gosh, what a man to be inspired by! I'm sure you learnt so much from him about how to interact with people. Good humour is amazing to connect people, so long as the other appreciates it - it can be quite the subtle art form and can also fail miserably!
I also tend to laugh at inappropriate times, and I explain it as a choice: laugh or cry. Some people get it, others are just offended.
I have been taught to at least sit back and have a good laugh when necessary because it helps a lot. Nice post !PIZZA
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I felt it! Beautiful...
Laughter sure is the best medicine around! I feel for those who don't have a sense of humor.
A beautiful thought. My dad's sense of humor will undoubtedly be a part of him that will stay with me forever, after his passing.
Must be amazing to have a partner that makes you laugh so much.
Sending you a huge hug from Portugal!
P.S. I loved that cute little mandarin dream!
P.P.S. I remember laughing several times at a funeral ( especially as a teenager ) and part of is was the extreme tension and seriousness of most people around.
Awesome post! At least I'm not alone in using laughter as an emotional response.
Sorry to hear about your dad, I'm sure the happy moments of laughter and humour shared will always be your best memories of him. 🙏
@millycf1976 He's not dead yet! :P Still having morning erections! At least I hope so - :P
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STOPYou know, I've been really focused on keeping distance from my emotions, but reading you just makes me remember the beauty of it, of staying sensible enough to observe all those inner happenings with due attention. Thanks for that.
Love to read your partner grants you many moments of laughter and joy, one can never have enough of those. I hope you're doing well, sending you lots of Love 💚
Thankyou sweetheart xx