A man goes to see a psychiatrist and says, “Doctor, sometimes I think I’m a teepee. Then, I think I’m a wigwam. Then, I think I’m a teepee. Then, I think I’m a wigwam.
The psychiatrist says, “I see your problem. I believe you’re two tents.”
I just watched a TED Talk by Frederik Imbo. Basically, he said we need to lighten up, stop being so tense, thinking life is about the “me” (because, more than often, “it’s not about you”) and that, far too often, we think it is. Rather, it’s about the “we” and it’s searching for the we that makes for loving and caring connections.
I’ve found that there are two paths to get from me to we: one is through serious acknowledgment of the situation and the other is through humor. If those two can be combined, that’s even better.
If humor can be self deprecating, it’s a real win and, with mutual laughter on both sides of a tense encounter, it’s like having an orgasm. That said, if you’re only laughing at yourself, it’s like……let’s just say, a one sided sexual experience. It’s much better with someone else.
In groups? Let’s not carry the analogy too far. And if sex is a distant memory or if you’re celibate, take the word of Masters and Johnson….a study so old that it may prove, to some, that sex is a distant memory for me.
I love to laugh and have decided that going through life, without laughing (a lot) is like having sex without the added bonus of (possible multiple) mutual orgasms for each experience.
My husband came home from work one day, many years ago, and walking towards the kitchen, greeted me with,
“Hi Honey!! I’m home!!”
My PMS, mean spirited, reply was, “You forgot to take the garbage out this morning!”.
Without missing a beat, picking up the bag that I handed him, he smiled and answered, “That’s right! Blame it on the Jews!” I couldn’t help but smile back (grudgingly….my PMS was still in full rage mode).
Then he purposefully walked out with the garbage, in hand.
Through the window, I saw that he’d done as I asked and was walking back to the house. I congratulated myself too soon as he had me, at the next laugh. He opened the front door, walked back into the kitchen, and spoke, with the opening gambit, of Act 1, Scene 1, take 2:
“Hi Honey!! I’m home!!”
If I had any more blame for any more Jews in the house, it would have been for me, not to have appreciated that brilliant double play, diffusing what could have been winning battles and a losing war.
Had Hubby become angry with the initial “greeting” – that would have a made an already tense situation, two tents (ok…ok…groan if you want to….but, sorry, Charle, the pun fits. If your name isn’t Charlie, it’s still fits).
Had he responded in equal measure to my mean greeting, and then taken the garbage out with gruffness, and come back in with a scowl, we would have both been doubling, tripling, and quadrupling, down at our battle stations, for the war of words, that could have taken place:
It’s only garbage!
To you it’s only garbage, but to me it’s my feelings!
Oh, for heaven’s sake, you’re so touchy!
Don’t discount me!
Blah Blah Blah….
To what end? Certainly not to warm fuzzies, that can lead to loving, and/or living (as opposed to dead end), relationships.
I certainly learned a valuable laughter lesson that day…….because, once the chance for a mental orgasm goes, there goes the neighborhood.