“You’re only given one little spark of madness.
You mustn’t lose it.” – Robin Williams
I think it’s safe to say that laughter saved my life.
Not in a keep-the-body-working escape-death sort of way, but in a keep-the-spirit-soaring sort of way, a feed-the-soul make-it-all-worthwhile sort of way.
Most of my early health issues took place between the ages of just arrived and six-years-old, and the biggest near-death moment of my youth happened at thirteen. I mentioned in an earlier post that I spent my teen years utterly terrified of death. Well, I’ve been thinking about that a bit lately – death itself, but also that paralyzing fear I had back then.
For some reason, I’ve also been thinking a lot about humor.
How rejuvenating it can be, either in the moment, or cumulatively. How life-changing, life-preserving laughter has been for me.
I honestly don’t remember having much of a sense of humor before we moved. Before everything changed. I was nine then.
When you move, it’s often like hitting reset on a game. Sure, you’re the same person you were before you got in the car that took you from one spot to another. It’s not like we transform in a matter of minutes or hours.
Yet, in a way, we do.