Laughter is the shortest distance between two people. - Victor Borge
My daughter has the most fantastically ridiculous laugh. It's a loud, powerful belly laugh that starts deep and low within and explodes out with a hilarious cackle. You can't hear her laugh and not crack up. It's been her laugh since infancy, and I adore it. Now a young adult, she has life experience, which means pain, that I cannot mitigate as I did when she was little, but she continues to find things deserving of that joyful explosion nonetheless.
Humor and laughter are the unsung heroes of empathy. We tend to dismiss them as extraneous by-products of the good day, or the carefree hour, but to do so underplays their very real transforming power over loneliness, difference, disappointment, and darkness. The people I love most are also the people who make me laugh the most, and it's not just because they are all hilarious stand-up types (only a couple of them are), it's because their approaches to life define the selflessness that allows empathy to flourish. That selflessness includes the disposal of the type of self-consciousness that pinions us to social mores about "appropriate" things to find humor in.
My belly-laughing daughter, for instance, finds terrific humor in the two huge slobbery dogs she adopted as a college student. An act, it should be noted, that went against her mother's council and solid maternal judgment. They are expensive, and limited her options after school, but they have also allowed her to be empathetic not just to other living beings that rely on her for their care, but also to herself. They provided her with unconditional love and distraction in the midst of a heartbreak. They made her remember joy, and beautiful, goofy, sloppy affection, and helped her believe again in her own intrinsic worth.
Upstaging me since he was born, my son, a gifted actor, knows the healing/bonding power of humor. From early on (we'll call them The Little Mermaid years), he has utilized feel good film and television as inroads to connection with others. He loves nothing more then sharing the latest hilarious YouTube compilation or movie/show/song that inspires group giggles or communal discussion, admiration, or foot-tapping. He's extra pleased if he can get you addicted enough to binge watch things, preferably with him, and he doesn't mind re-watching or re-listening because it is his unique way of saying, "You matter to me. I care about you. You are trusted and loved enough by me that I want you to enjoy this thing I found that makes me smile." This trait is magnified in his desire to perform. He wants to share stories about being human in a theatre filled with humans he's not judging but merely reflecting; an ultimate and immediate act of empathy.
Some might say outright silliness does not necessarily qualify as empathy, but perhaps they just don't understand the power of silly. For example, my best friend and I are fairly legendary for our ridiculousness. Whether it's trying on oversized hats at local retailers, misbehaving in some of the best museums in the world, or being accused of being drunk when stone cold sober after accidentally knocking over a display of K-Y in the drugstore and giggling maniacally, we have adventures where ever we roam. But beyond that shared zest for comic life, we also share a deep affinity for probing the deeper questions of the human condition, a fierce loyalty to our family and friends, and an insatiable passion for people, ideas, and justice. We are friends precisely because the things we value and pursue are attuned to compassion and understanding.
Our friendship is further cemented by the fact that we extend that compassion and understanding to one another. I have come to believe that unconditional love and acceptance is woefully rare, but my BFF, as I call her, extends both to me. Does this mean she spares me from the scalpel of truth? Hell, no! But that's how I know she loves me. Too often there is competition among women, but that is not the case in our friendship, nor has it ever been. We are genuinely supportive and happy for each other over every success, opportunity, and relationship. Admittedly, sometimes our silliness outstrips this mature component of our little squad. Once, a few years ago, we ran to the grocery store to pick up some "salad" and my 5'1" BFF decided I should get my 5'8" self into the cart so she could push me around the store and be her surrogate toddler. We thought this was hil.ar.ious. and were enjoying ourselves tremendously despite the harsh judgment the other, "refined," middle aged women were making no effort to hide from us. But here's the deal: If we can enjoy that kind of tomfoolery when times are good, and extend the kind of acceptance those women in the store could not, we can also provide compassion and empathy in the times that require us to dig deeper. Those times have already reared their head when my BFF was diagnosed with breast cancer. I offered her my unflinching emotional support and a "Frankenboob" balloon (a pink latex with a scar artfully drawn across it). Those keeping mournful watch on the sad occasion were likely horrified, but my BFF knew that my humorous approach was the ultimate empathy-a reminder that she was gonna get through this and that she was still the same person. When the shoe is on the other foot, as it is likely to be at some point, I know she'll know exactly what to do and that it will be gloriously irreverent!
More quietly irreverent is my partner, Todd. On the surface he seems innocuous enough; Dr. Todd, microbiologist. churchgoing sweetheart. Loving pet dad. What made me adore him, however, were all the things that contradicted those surface components of his personality. Yes, he's a science guy, but he truly appreciates the arts. A dedicated Christian, he has no patience at all for Bible literalists or evolution deniers. He is a ridiculous, indulgent cat dad, but he wishes murderous harm to squirrels (okay, maybe that's not a good thing). Most importantly, I discovered he had a wicked, sarcastic sense of humor, and could use it for good or ill. Fortunately, he regularly chooses to use it for good.
Todd is intentional about giving back to his community, and to providing for those who are less fortunate. A long-time advocate for the homeless, he puts his money and time where his mouth is. Recognizing the bone-crushing despair and shame many homeless people experience, and acknowledging the scourge of mental illness within the community, Todd treats the people he serves with not only dignity, but legitimizing humanity. For this, his sense of humor is the best tool at his disposal. Rather than being too somber, or pitying, he engages the homeless folks he serves in light banter, reminding them of the small joys still to be found in human interaction.
That joyful interaction is what holds us all together when we feel we're about to break apart. Embrace the laughter and humor around you, even in the moments you're tempted to take yourself and the world too seriously, because, let's face it, both get awfully messy and serious from time to time. Lean into laughter, and hold fast to the ones who laugh; their empathy is stronger than despair and a whole lot more entertaining.
And don't forget to invite them sweater shopping with you!!!
