I so admire people who are funny. Not the punking, pranking kind of funny, although that takes talent, but the witty kind of funny. Have you ever seen Hugh Grant on Letterman? He’s witty. It goes without saying the late, great, and utterly profoundly iconic Robin Williams was hysterical. And I could go on. It’s a long list I’ll not bore you with, but I’m sure you get the idea, and have your favourites, too. We all love a good laugh. And we should. It’s a super healthy thing to do!
I’ve noticed, with joy, I’m laughing more lately. It’s not forced. On the contrary, it’s spontaneous. My mind and body are happy about this. I dearly love to laugh. (A line delivered by Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice.) Those fits that engage the core and leave you breathless, snorting in between uncontrolled guffaws, are the best. Yes indeed. Laughter is a good thing, a very good thing. So why haven’t I been laughing?
A reasonable explanation could be that growing up, getting sensible, keeping emotions in check, pulls the plug on funny. But that’s not really true. Lots of responsible, respectable, productive adults make good jokes, and laugh easily. A lot of funny people are successful. Okay, that might be stretching it a bit. Or maybe not. I’ll bet there’s a great many Tina Fey types sharing the planet with us. In fact, I’m going to go with that idea. I like it. A world soon to be overrun by comic geniuses. Let’s high-five to it! Ooh! Let’s add an exponential increase in dancers, singers, and poets, writers, and painters who practice yoga and meditation. Sigh. Carried away? Nah, it’s real if that’s what I see. Ta da!
Answering the above question: I don’t know. Furthermore, it doesn’t matter why. I’m going to laugh more now. Period.
I was tired earlier and didn’t know how this blog would unfold. That’s what I like about this process. Every night’s a surprise.
Before wishing, I’ll fill you in briefly on the status of my move. Stalled. Ugh. I failed to coordinate movers this weekend for the western delivery, and for some reason I can’t seem to figure out the rest. Spending is getting to me as are the logistics of selling the car, delivering the last load for the UK to Toronto, and picking the last batch up once it arrives over there. When I sent the first load, although it arrived in Liverpool, the price included delivery to Devon. This time, I’ll have to pick it up at an arrival depot all of which, so far, are freaking far from where we are. Blah. I know I’m stuck for a reason and will sort it all out, but this is another reminder that I need people to help me. Oh well, all in good time.
Which leads to my wish for patience. I need to patiently hold on to my ultimate vision and keep putting one foot in front of the other. All will be well. I believe that. The energy I need will come, as will the direction on how to accomplish what needs doing. We often get in the universe’s way, thinking we know best. When I feel stymied, I know it’s because I’m not doing my part. So patience is advisable until my gut tells me what my part is.