I was a quiet kid, but I’d crack up like wild.

Laughter was big in my family.
Distant cousins were circus clowns, even.

My grandparents were Holocaust survivors, and had the best laughs of any of us.
My home was full of love, hilarity, and ridiculousness.
I spent so much time a child doubled over in laughter, with abs and cheeks aching.

Finding laughter yoga later in life brought me home to myself. It broke down the seriousness of adulthood and the walls I’d put up around me, tuning me to a lighter heart.

You just laugh, until the armor of your ego dissolves, and it becomes contagious.

It’s breath work, and it’s purely playing, absurdly, like some form of dadaist, in-the-now, immersive improv performance theater.

Laughter yoga has opened up a doorway to my inner child, allowing me to be increasingly tender toward my feelings of smallness, and hiding, and pain. It’s given me amazing clarity of thought. And it’s allowed me to quiet my mind in dynamic meditation, to expand beyond my limiting beliefs.

Laughter is one of the simplest ways to remember your infinite nature and the importance of community, which is why I find it so vital to share this wealth with those around me.

♥