Learning To Laugh
A head-cold continues to aggravate, deep cough and much tissue paper is needed. We are not spiritual beings, the body obtrudes into our preferred idealism.
Walked into the kitchen this morning, and turned on NPR. The Saturday morning special programming was an exploration of the ethos, and the lore of Alabama, yes, the State of Alabama. The first interview was of woman of evangelical faith who moved from elsewhere to live in Alabama. She began to extol the benefits of living where Christian faith is taken into account in all aspects of daily life. The segue was immediate into the anti-abortion bill recently signed into law by the state’s governor, Kay Ivey.
That was all that I could take. I changed the station to one playing rock n roll, and turned my attention to the bowl of cheerios and bananas. There is less violence in my bowl of cereal than in the State of Alabama. If you are a woman living in Alabama, — get out now.
It is sometimes hard to laugh. Laughter is a gift/a skill to be learned. Like receiving a commission to depict the creation of the world on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, one starts by having to learn the basics of drawing. The great work follows from that. One does not become a Michelangelo overnight.
Learning to laugh is particularly difficult when much is at stake, or seems to be at stake. Last night after having received a conditional mortgage loan commitment from our bank, I learned from our realtor that no closing date was forthcoming from the bank, and in fact, there is no guarantee that the mortgage will be extended. The crux of this matter is, –if we cannot close on the new home this week, we will lose the deal. I have to note, I’ve been a customer of this bank for over 40 years.
This is why it is so hard to laugh, even when I know that life is absurd, there is no rhyme or reason, and nevertheless the beauty and meaning manages to shine through.
There is noise and much sad nonsense on the many stations of the radio of life. One searches for the music.
However, enough of pathos and death-dealing. It is time to come to your senses. You are to live and to learn to laugh. You are to learn to listen to the cursed radio music of life and to reverence the spirit behind it and to laugh at its distortions. So there you are. More will not be asked of you.
—excerpt, Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse p. 216
