A few weeks ago, while accidentally listening to a highbrow radio programme, a piece about laughter caught my ear. I was intrigued by the health benefits extolled by the presenters; the lowered stress levels, heart benefits, and improved immune system.
I wondered if it was possible to cram more laughter into my days, or if this was just a deeply strange idea born from too many coffees? Curious and slightly over-caffeinated, I decided to set out on a quest in search of chuckles.
At first, the task felt strange. I asked friends and family to regale me with “hilarious memories” which felt forced, awkward, and clunky. I could only recall one memory (my daughter being startled by a goose) and when I quizzed my friends about theirs, they either said they’d get back to me (and didn’t), or pointed me to YouTube videos and memes.
Only one enthusiastically responded with a particular recollection of doing mushrooms in Thailand, which was both the beginning and the end of the story due to the amnesic nature of taking drugs on holiday. I’m guessing you had to be there.
One piece of advice was to take a video of yourself laughing. I was shocked and dismayed to find that watching my ‘laughie’ was actually quite comforting
Next, I tried two exercises recommended online, I believe by sociopaths. The first was “laughter yoga”, the second: “laughies”. Both concepts scared me.
Laughter yoga, I discovered, was a combination of facial expressions and fake chuckles that, when performed together, result in a farewell ceremony to any pride you ever had. I cringed my way through three minutes of it without laughing until I looked up at my two-year-old son who was frozen by my chair and staring at me with trepidation.
His furrowed brow and profound concern caught me off-guard, and ultimately I ended up laughing - although I refuse to credit laughter yoga for this. Changing your diet can also change your mood, experts say, but I didn’t try that: I was too busy forcing myself to laugh. Perhaps I should have gone to the Ha Ha House Museum of Laughter in Croatia, but the cost of getting to Zagreb would have made my laughter disappear fairly rapidly.
The notion of a “laughie” also made me physically uncomfortable; like a selfie, but even worse. Instead of just a picture, you are supposed to take a video of yourself laughing which is both deeply embarrassing and logistically challenging.
I ended up filming myself listening to The Ricky Gervais Show, and was later shocked and dismayed to find that I found watching my laughie quite comforting. After recovering from the trauma of seeing my crow’s feet in action, it was strangely enjoyable to witness a familiar face (albeit my own), enjoying themselves. I shall, nevertheless, be deleting evidence of the laughie immediately in case I die in a car crash tomorrow and it’s found on my phone.
“Cheerscrolling” and keeping a “humour journal” were also recommended, and I interpreted these ideas in ways that made the most sense to me. For cheerscrolling, I spent time revisiting everything that I knew made me laugh, from Mitch Hedberg one-liners, to George W. Bush quotations, to the chef d’oeuvre that is Celebrity Big Brother’s “David’s Dead”.
I made note of these nuggets of joy and created a little quilt of giggles, adding elements and pieces when they came to me. As I sorted through everything I started to involve my friends, who shared suggestions and favourite video clips. In this more relaxed setting, I found that people were able to more easily mine their memories, and stories of overly enthusiastic kazoo players and VR porn misadventures started flowing.
In place of keeping a “journal” which felt quite onerous, I created a list in my notes app which was an easy way to document and keep track of funny moments, memes of note, and prized YouTube clips.
Ultimately, what I realised throughout the week is that it’s not particularly practical or fun to try and create a daily quota of laughter levels. It’s not a pill you can take, liquid you can swallow, or task to complete. Moreover, what I found, quite depressingly, is how quick we are to forget the humorous moments of our lives when these are the flashes we should most cherish.
Like faded photographs, the triggers for our laughter should be cared for and available to revisit in moments of sadness or nostalgia. Instead of being forgotten, the aggressive kazoo players and not-yet-dead-Davids of our lives all deserve to be logged and filed away for a rainy day to bring a spark of joy when needed. But do stay away from laughter yoga, I implore you.
