I checked out the Laughter Yoga class at the Floyd Fitness Center because I thought it would make a nice story for the paper because I know we could all use a good laugh right about now in the middle of a blizzardy February.
The group was less than half its normal size because of the recent bad weather and still iffy traveling conditions. They invited me to join in but, being adverse to all things yoga, I declined to participate, choosing instead to observe and take pictures.
I should explain that as a person with dyscalculia (a spatial learning disability), I have been traumatized in the past by trying to follow practices that hint at anything with choreographed steps, preferring instead impromptu movement, freestyle dancing, and not balancing my checkbook. Also, since my husband does a few kinds of marital arts, practices more than one meditation tradition, and is engaged in a growing number of therapeutic modalities related to his counseling practice, I find that I have swung to the opposite end of the spectrum, becoming somewhat of a hooky-playing rebel skeptic in balance to him.
Well, the yoga mats never came out (until the closing laughing/silence meditation) and instead of plows, headstands and sun salutations, the yogis strutted around like sumo wrestlers, bounced around like flobby puppets, and generally threw themselves into giggling giddiness. The whole thing was right up my silly alley, a wholly unserious and contagious fast track to fun, not to mention (which I will in the formal story) the health benefits and implications for uniting people that laughter can offer.
It was hard to keep the camera straight. In the one video clip I took, I could hear myself laughing ... laughing ... laughing ... my way to enlightenment, or at least to lightening up.