Dear people in my life who make me laugh,

Thank you for making me laugh.

It took me 4 months to watch anything after my babies were born, not out of some resolution but just because it took me 4 months to find the space in my mind to want to go out of my mind and consume anything beyond the four walls of the room I was in. When I did finally watch something I watched standup comedy. This was not a premeditated decision but in the moment it felt like the only possible thing I could watch.

During the years I spent in the classroom with ESL middle schoolers I used humor a lot. Humor functioned as a universal language because my Spanish is nonexistent. It was a peace offering, a nod to self-awareness, a way to bring lightness into the space and hold the awkwardness of adolescence tenderly.

And humor is central to my work as a Ceremonialist, because humor is connected to play, imitation, observation and imagination, all which are necessary when creating rituals and ceremony.

I am one of those “everyone is an artist” people but I also think everyone is a ceremonialist, a teacher (and of course student)… even a mother. All the roles I play, all the identities I identify with, I believe everyone else also is. This is another way in which I invite humor into my practice. I like to hold my identities lightly. I find pleasure in not taking myself too seriously because I think there is a special kind of rigor in being able to laugh, be fluid, give it up, share it… 

A certain kind of magic space opens up when we laugh. And as I write this with baby food smeared on my robe I think about what a beautiful dance it is to hold life’s bigness and gravity, with one hand called SACRED and the other hand called HUMOR. All the sorrow and all the laughter in one big chorus with no conductor, just a mess of reverence and jokes.