I publish bi-weekly on the small ways we check out of our own lives with busy-ness, alcohol, overachievement, work, perfectionism, sex, exercise, snark, or whatever else is on hand, and what it takes to notice we’re doing it and transform for the better. The framework is the Eight Awarenesses. Past posts are here. More on my book Undimmed, upcoming events, and everything else via my website and at the end of this post.
Quick THANK YOU to (1) the community members out there who recommend this Substack, you make a huge difference in helping this work find its people, and (2) my paid and free subscribers. I am grateful for your trust and support.
Yesterday I was asked by a friend and fellow Substacker how I choose what to write about every couple of weeks. It wasn’t as easy of a question to answer as one might think. “It’s really what’s most alive for me that week, where there’s tension, something I am working on myself.”
A lot is alive this week: 1) the beginning of my research on oxytocin (does someone’s inability to “let love in” maybe lead to dimming behaviors?), 2) a recent example of the might of a singular conversation at a big dinner table (many of you are already familiar with the dinnertime ritual of sharing Cherries and Pits), 3) the remorse I am working through after naively imposing my own moral high ground on others in a way that backfired, and 4) how having a spiritual practice can be highly compatible with high performance in a professional setting (the topic of a private talk I am giving next week).
More on these another day.
The winner is the most alive because I woke up this morning with an aching stomach from last night’s dose:
We are all familiar with an “ugly cry” as a form of weeping that is so intense we’ve surrendered control and just let the emotion pour out. It turns out, there’s a version for laughter too, and it also comes with tears.
My most recent version of this was last night, at a long-planned girls’ weekend, telling a story to a table of twelve old, dear friends. Life drawing class, high school, a male nude model who, ten minutes into an otherwise still pose, sprang an erection and held it for at least ten agonizing minutes. I could barely get the punchline out: my mom was in the class with me that day, and when the model came around afterward to see our work, she said something like, “It’s not that good… you didn’t really stay still throughout, did you?”
I was definitely “ugly laughing” as I struggled to get the tale out, feeling my face contort, tears streaming from my eyes. It’s been a long time since I laughed that hard.
Our long weekend crew appears to be growing fond of the “singular dinner conversation.” The first night was the more serious, and sometimes emotional, Cherries and Pits. One of us suggested a “little known fact” share last night instead as we crowded around a family style dinner of beautifully gussied up leftovers. No humble bragging in this crew. A few tales of ancestor-inventors. Several recounts of first loves, youth antics, early jobs, and yes, awkward moments with our moms and nude men.
Magic making.
“In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.”
– Khalil Gibran
It’s Always Real. Laughter can’t be faked or convincingly come out “on command.”
It’s Contagious. Like yawns, our brains are wired for contagion. When we experience the laugh of another, a little understood “laugh detector” opens a pathway making it easier for us to join.
It Reduces Stress. Lee Berk, a researcher at Loma Linda University who’s spent almost thirty years studying laughter, found that a single laughing session can drop cortisol, our primary stress hormone, by as much as 37% regardless of how long we laugh for, or why.
It Reduces Physical Pain. Research indicates that cancer patients using laughter therapy report reduced pain levels of up to 50%(!), not because laughter blocks pain, but because it appears to raise how much we can tolerate. Another credible study concluded that subjects who’d laughed at a comedy video tolerated more physical discomfort afterward than subjects who hadn’t, and orthopedic surgery patients who watched comedies asked for fewer painkillers than those who watched dramas.1
It Bonds Us. Robin Dunbar, an Oxford evolutionary psychologist, demonstrated that laughter activates the brain’s endorphin system in a way that reinforces social bonds and deepens group cohesion, even between strangers who’ve just met. Laughter forms social glue, signaling that we see the world the same way deepens the sense of connection among us. It’s a way to recognize and deepen trust among our people.
I write about an evolving relationship with undimming, living a life with more presence with less “tuning out” or “self-medicating” to avoid tough feelings that are often helpful or instructive.
The twist on this week’s reflections is that there was a point in my early years of living alcohol free when I wondered if I’d ever laugh like this again, in a setting like this—and with such abandon. After many years of believing I needed a buzz to be funny, relax, or let loose, it’s been incredibly healing to surrender into deep, communal joy with old friends. Intensity, deep reflection, and at times isolation are healthy parts of any healing journey, but it turns out, so is collective play and joy. And this medicine is available to us all.
Prioritize time with people who bring you joy. These are often also the people you can be the most real with. Think about healthy doses of laughter like essential nutrition and sleep.
Consider provocative prompts for meal conversations: most embarrassing moments, humbling stories from our past, odd things we know we did as kids, that time we really misread the room, and so on. We connect from vulnerability and can bond in shared recognition and levity. Have one to share? Please comment!
Watch funny things, ideally with someone else. Researching this I learned that most bowlers who achieve a strike don’t actually smile until they turn around and see others sharing in their joy.
Notice what helps you feel at ease enough to “ugly laugh,” especially if it once was a certain setting or substance. Lean into it for more with curiosity. Play with these edges!
About to reach nine years alcohol free, I’m still learning how to do all kinds of things without “taking the edge off” with a drink. Fun at weddings was one. Initiating intimacy was another. Starting a conversation with a stranger also took some re-learning. It’s taken time and quite a bit of patience and allowing, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Dancing is next, and I’m scared as hell, which means yeah, this is going to be fun. I’ll share as I go.
I’d love to hear your impressions and experiences. Thank you for taking a moment to comment or drop a ♡.
LOVE.
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.