I fight being funny. I resist being labeled that way. I avoid checking off the box or describing myself as a humorous motivational speaker. (I could honestly throw up from that title.) And yet. And still. Humor is a big part of how I move through the world, how I filter things, how I get the message across, whatever the message might be. Sigh… I guess it’s a good problem to have, being thought of as a funny person. But—the first thing that comes to my mind when I hear someone say that I’m funny, or refer to me that way, is a child’s voice that cries out, while stamping her foot: “Yeah, I might be funny but dammit, I’m also deep and profound!!" (It’s obviously a child who knows how to swear.) As if being funny is mutually exclusive from being smart and sharp and insightful. Not!Years and years ago in a bio for a project I wrote: humor has been my raft and my armor. That still rings true. Humor is what helps me get through, get by, get around, get over things and people. Humor allows me to float. And it’s also my armor, and a way to deflect and protect myself from feeling anything, from digging around on the inside. Ah, the perks of sarcasm. As with any skill set, I can use it for good or evil. (It’s a simplistic way to boil it all down, I know, but still, I have a cape and some tights, so why not?)
In 1995 I moved across the country to study with Anna Halprin at the Tamalpa Institute. It was the most extreme thing I’ve ever done. What a wild ride. I did learn something that changed my life forever as a performer. I learned to think of the people who come to see the work as ‘witnesses’ instead of as ‘the audience.’ For me, there is a huge, vast difference between thinking about people showing up to receive the work vs. people coming to watch or judge what’s being offered. The difference is that the first perspective allows me to feel connected.
And for me, little old me, that’s what it all comes down to: being connected. Yesterday, I read this and it reverberated in my core DNA: Real humor has little to do with telling jokes and everything to do with connecting with others.
People ask me all the time what I do. The truth is that I help people connect with themselves and each other. This is no small feat. We spend an awful lot of time looking out and resist reaching in. And what in the heck does it mean to reach in anyway and why does that matter? All I know is that if I’m doing my job well as a speaker or trainer or coach, people are engaged and connected to each other in a way that they weren’t before we began working (or playing) together. There is always laughter involved. And laughter changes things. It requires deeper breathing. Our molecules rearrange themselves differently when we laugh. Tight things loosen up. Loose things go flying. We are changed by laughing at ourselves and laughing with each other. The armor melts. You can’t stay separate if you are laughing. Or not for very long. Trust me on this one. We are different after we’ve laughed because we're connected.
A big part of my job is making people play. Oy! Who has time? There’s so much email to read and so many blogs to read (ahem) and we must watch our stocks and annuities. Sometimes I tell people that I am going to ‘make’ them play. Sometimes I just slip it in under the radar. Adults get a little twitchy if you tell them they’re going to have to play a bit in order to learn something new or stop repeating the same old same old. It’s a conundrum. But then we play and then there’s laughter and people defrost or get wiggly or find themselves and their hearts pried open. And trust is built. And we connect with one another emotionally and that is how and when true learning and change takes place.
[I will now take down my inflatable podium.]
Here is a photograph of my father helping my mother onto a fake horse in front of the Kodak museum in Rochester, New York. (She has her hand on her tush to cover a spot on her pants.) From the moment I said, "Hey, help her onto the horse," we were hysterical.
So, why do we laugh?
Well, I think we laugh because we are unsure of ourselves. Or embarrassed. Or we are afraid. Or we think we're pretty funny. Or we make a mistake and get busted. Or someone else makes a mistake. Or we think other people are quite entertaining. Or we don't want to show any other emotions and laughter is the easiest one to express. Or we laugh with relief when someone (finally) speaks the truth. We laugh when it comes to risk—either before we’re about to take one, or in the middle of taking a risk, or afterwards when we notice what we did. We laugh when we notice. Or we laugh because of what Joni Mitchell said: "laughing and crying you know it's the same release." We laugh because we are delighted. We laugh because it's what distinguishes us from the rest of the animal kingdom. We laugh because we are wired to chortle. And we laugh because sometimes the pain gets so big.
