Monday, September 20, 2010
A few weeks ago I decided that I wasn't interested in the comedy part of improv comedy, but rather in the improv part. Then Wednesday night I went to an improv performance, and saw people having lots of fun. I hardly laughed, though, because I'm over 60 and everyone else was under 30 (well, almost) and why should I laugh when I've seen the other side of life.
What can be funny when people you love die, or... or...
But then on the other hand, I like jokes and send them to friends.
The other night I saw a friend laughing. He's going to become a Buddhist priest in a couple of months. I (jokingly) told him he couldn't laugh anymore once he became a priest. That's when I discovered I'm going be out of town when he gets ordained. A bummer.
All day I kept thinking that I wanted to write something funny. I've been caring for a guy who just had a bypass operation... and then an infection on the wound. It has been a hard ordeal for him and me. I told each of my kids that it was "interesting" and they both asked why. I said I didn't know.
Monks beg to give people an opportunity to give. When I learned that I didn't quite believe it. Now I do.
But funny. How can we be funny in the world as it is? With that elephant of death lurking in the corner. Yikes... he's in the middle of the room.
How could James Thurber have had so much fun while a war was going on?
So what's so funny.
Reminds me about the time when our daughter was so mad at us. She went up to her room and slammed the door. Then she wrote a note to us and opened the door, taped it to the door, and slammed it again. We went up stairs and read the note: "I hate you both and if you laugh at this note I'm never ever talk to you again."
I'm glad that stage passed. She's now such a wonderful part of our lives.
Where do I dwell? In anger, in forgiveness, in peace, in privilege, in emptiness, in self, in stories, in my house, in l...