I am fortunate to have been raised in one of those families (immediate and extended) in which laughter was as integral to the family dynamic as love. As a youngster, I thought positive humor was everyone’s primary coping mechanism. It wasn’t until the school years with feedback from others that I realized my family might be a little different. School chums visiting for the weekend would go home with sore stomach muscles, reporting to their parents that my family never stopped laughing. I got labeled as a character quite young – nothing to be ashamed of.
We were not a wealthy family, but we did have fun together, sometimes even in the gravest circumstances. We were not spared the standard roster of dire events – lost loves and fortunes, premature deaths from misadventure; chronic, serious and terminal diseases – you know the drill. We just used humor to place life’s ups and downs in perspective. I should add that laughter was not used as a weapon in my family, only as shared commentary and commiseration on life’s predicaments
As you grow-up in one of these laugh factories, you do learn to temper your humor when outside the family fold. It’s best to avoid having to apologize for your laughter. There is much to be serious about in life; and many people take offense if you don’t honor the gravity of their station and circumstances. I admit laughter is risky and can be inappropriate in some situations: job interviews; church services-especially funerals; during sex with a new lover, for example.
Some people don’t seem to enjoy laughter all that much. They equate laughter with silliness and unnecessary frivolity. Sometimes laughter is silly, sometimes it is frivolous; most often it’s an intelligent, healthy response to life’s unpredictability.
Griz and I (my current family) have a lot of fun together, too. Laughter is a large part of our bond. Much of the mate-seeking process for us characters is to find someone who gets (tolerates) our sense of humor – and gets it well enough to live with it day-to-day. If you’re lucky like me, you find another, compatible character.
Taking life lightly is probably my principal attraction to Taoism. Although I do not define myself as a Taoist per se, Taoist teachings do resonate with me. Perhaps I was a Taoist last time around. I like the following description by the late John Blofeld. For a relatively short description, I think Blofeld succeeds at capturing what I consider that “twinkle in the eye” of the Tao:
In one sense, the Tao is the originator, container, substance, and goal of the universe – thus nothing lies apart from it. Shapeless, invisible, intangible, it is the creator, substance, and being of a myriad transient forms, of which you and I are two, Mount Kanchenjunga forms a third, the garden dung-heap a fourth, the moon a fifth, and so on. The Tao seeks no praise, no worship. The Tao is. In another sense, the Tao is the path one follows in order to be transfused by the inimitable perfection which realization of the goal bestows. Moreover, since there are many kinds of sentient beings at various levels of understanding, the Tao comprises different paths, some long, some short. All lead eventually to the goal.
What goal? Blissful consciousness of perfect identity with the sublime Tao. From this consciousness flows such harmony between reality (the Tao) and its transient manifestation (say, you or me) that henceforth one can act with pure spontaneity in dealing with all life’s exigencies, like a tree bending towards the sunlight. Fear and anxiety vanish; for, in an ultimate sense, nothing can ever go wrong. Light and dark, up and down, health and sickness, life and death are all part of the interplay of transient phenomena whereby the Tao manifests the Tao. Your birth added nothing to it. My death will take nothing from it. Nor, in fact, are birth and death valid concepts, except in a wholly relative sense, for, since every atom of my body, mind, personality, etc., is the Tao, nothing came into being at my birth, nothing will cease to be when I die. So ha-ha-ho-ha-ha! Having realized what I really am, I can face all that may come with laughing equanimity, never sure that a change for the so-called worse (including death, ha-ha-ha) will not turn out to be a change for the so-called better. If it does not turn out that way, that’s fine too, for a realized Taoist is too wise to take opposites such as better or worse, at all seriously. I am soon to become an emperor – ha-ha-ha-ha! I am destined to be lousy beggar – ha-ha-ha-ha! It’s all a game. Any part will suit me fine. You are going to give me a thirty-two course (plus side dishes) Chinese Banquet? Thanks, I’ll enjoy that. We have only a bowl or two of inferior quality boiled rice for dinner? That will go down very nicely. We have nothing on which to dine? Splendid, we shall have more time to sit outside and enjoy the moonlight, with music provided by the wind in the pines.
You see how enviable is the lot of people who have realized the Tao! Nothing can upset them. Youth passes – so does spring. Old age comes – so do winter’s lovely snowscapes and the kettles bubbling over glowing charcoal. I’m bursting with energy, so I’ll jog or climb Mount Hua. I’m too ill to move, so I’ll enjoy my warm bed and meditate. My wife loves me, “O what joys behind hibiscus curtains!” My wife has left me; how peaceful it is now. Old Wang has a delicious concubine. I have a charming blue-eyed cat. Reagan is delighted with his new aeroplane. I have fun with my old bamboo raft. I find that I can sleep in only one bedroom at a time and that my old wadded gown sits lighter than fur. While you sit watching pictures on your color TV set, I stand gazing at ripples in a moonlit pond, thanking the gods for not interrupting with commercials. You are a funny creature; so am I – ha-ha! Who isn’t?
(c) 1983 John Blofeld, from the Introduction to The Collected Songs of Cold Mountain translated by Red Pine
