Yo-ho-ho-ga

Ok, I'm a failure at the constant, forced smile. I know the research says your brain takes cues from your body. If you smile, then, you really should feel better. I totally believe in the psycho-physiological link, or whatever you call it. If you've ever sung in a chorus, you know the difference a good face can make in tone.
But it's just too hard to remember to smile. And if you have a teenager and you go around in public with a big goofy smile for no reason...well, there are consequences.
So this week I decided to kick it up a notch.
If I can't force a smile, why not force a laugh instead? Specifically, why not go to the laughter yoga class offered once a week for free?
"I think I'll go to laughing yoga this Friday. Who wants to go with me?"
To my surprise, my daughter agreed. To my stupefication, so did my husband and 22-year-old son.

I first heard of laughter yoga during chit chat at the end of my regular yoga class. One of my classmates had read about it somewhere, and explained that you just go into the room in your regular clothes. No downward-facing dog. No bound dancer pose. And you laugh. That's it.
When I heard this, I thought two things:
1. Here's another crystal-worshipping, space alien new age fad to make fun of. Why don't they call it ha-ha-hatha?
2. Sounds cool. Maybe I'll try it.

Actually, laughter yoga and laughter clubs are a growing national pastime. It was invented by Dr. Madan Katarian, who believes laughing is a great exercise and immune system restorer. For a better explanation than I possibly could give, click here.

The laughter club we'd heard about is offered at Plaza Wellspring and is 45 minutes free every Friday at 6. As Friday afternoon arrived, we were all getting a little nervous. My husband started to make noises about backing out. Maybe he wouldn't make his deadline in time. Maybe work would need to call. My son seemed less than enthusiastic but still game when I called him. And my daughter began texting her friends with the address in case one of them wanted to swing by during class and save her.

I was still committed, but a little scared that I might be greeted by this guy:




Or maybe this:

Our instructor, who had no trouble at all with the wide sincere smile, started us with a little explanation and some warm up exercises. There would be no talking or joke telling, she said. Then there were "introduction" type exercises. Walk up to someone else and give a silly handshake, shy giggles, laughing waves. The 15 or so of us could improvise how we liked. The only thing mandatory was the laugh, either real or faked.
Then came longer exercises--the winding up of giggles from a belly button key, bow and arrow, cocktail shaker, kiss throwing. We did laughing "drives" around the wood floor, bumper cars, a long set of silly dancing, during which there wasn't much breath left over for laughing.
Between laughter sets, we clapped with rhythm: HO, HO, ha-ha-ha. And then big yoga breaths for a rest.

I thought the laughter would be strained and unnatural and it was at first. But then, it was easy. The "exercises" are just so goofy looking that the laughter comes from self-awareness of how insane it all is. Turns out smiling is way harder.
As we laughed, I carefully checked my family to see how they were taking it. Here's the great thing about a laughter class: No one's face gives even the slightest hint that they want to kill you for bringing them because--smiling all that's allowed. They were all smiling, just like everybody else.
The best part came during a time when we were supposed to just lie on our backs and laugh at the funny images we pretended to see in the clouds. I looked over at my daughter and tried to come up with her old laugh--the hysterical one she used to do as she crashed into pedestrians in "Crazy Taxi" at age 5.
When I did that laugh, we both lost it. I had tears pouring toward my ears, and I could hardly stop when the instructor told us it was time to take some deep calming breaths.

I also didn't really believe the claims that laughing is a good workout. I'm a regular gym goer and can run 8 miles, for crying out loud. So I was a little surprised that at the end of 45 minutes I was spent. But in a really, really good way.
"That was the most fun ever," my daughter said as we left. "Next week I want to bring my friends." My son and husband also admitted to having fun, albeit a bit more guardedly.
"What's that on your face?" I asked my daughter.
It was big dark smudges where her considerable eye makeup had run.
Yeah. I'd go again.