08.31.12
Posted in Humor & change, Humor~Health & Goals, Laughter Meditation, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 3:54 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
The negative thing about positive thinking is that we position it as the ultimate. And it is. We ALL want to think positively, to dream hopefully, and to live peaceably. But positive thinking, as we’ve known it, leads us to decry and deny the negative.
For some people this method DOES work. Those people should stop reading now.
For others, that method backfires and makes us feel even worse than the original negative event.
Fear is the biggest motivator — if we start to cry we will never stop. If we express our anger, we will never reign it in. If we voice our hopelessness we will forever remain in the abyss.
The good news is that it doesn’t have to work that way…
IF we give ourselves a set amount of time to express. And then an equal amount of time to process.
It is that simple. We don’t have to deny ourselves the entirety of our experience or the total of our emotions. And the more we get used to this rhythm, the more quickly we can return to it in times of negativity.
What’s so bad about negativity? And how funny can you make THAT?
Living Between the Extremes is the research study Dr. Trina Hess conducted at Penn State University. Subtitled, “How do single, mid-life women reconstruct their identity after a work transition,” the study highlights those tools that describe and inform the process of change. Find out about the change programs offered by Dr. Trina Hess at www.HumorAcademy.com
Permalink
07.28.12
Posted in Humor & change, Laughter Meditation, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 11:17 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
In Laughter meditation we practice getting in tune. Getting aligned, harmonized with something bigger than ego. This is the key to reaching our goals, EVEN IF we don’t know what our specific goal is, or even if we can’t define it.
How does this happen? Doesn’t this seem counter-intuitive to everything we’ve heard, read, been taught and believed? Yes, yes and yes!
But this is great news. It means that our ONLY task is to stay on an authentic course. We do this by NOT being in our mind, in our ego.
Visualization, goal-setting and other “success” methods depend on our ego. It is the ego that defines those goals, that creates that visual, and that directs our actions.
In silence, we learn another way.
A less stressful way.
A more effective way.
Our visualizations may create anxiety in us. Especially if we don’t feel capable.
With laughter Meditation, we don’t need to feel capable. We just have to do the practice.
Our goal setting requires us to leap our minds into the future. This takes us out of our knowledge base. And this creates distance from the solutions that stem from living in the now.
Living Between the Extremes is the research study Dr. Trina Hess conducted at Penn State University. Subtitled, “How do single, mid-life women reconstruct their identity after a work transition,” the study highlights those tools that describe and inform the process of change. Find out about the change programs offered by Dr. Trina Hess at www.HumorAcademy.com
Permalink
07.22.12
Posted in Humor & change, Humor~Health & Goals, Laughter Meditation, Learning Identity, The Change Process, www.HumorAcademy.com at 12:30 am by Dr. Trina Hess
Trina Hess as balloon girl at Alice Cooper concert last week
We’ve been schooled to visualize our future, even feeling what it would be like after the goal has been reached.
The only problem is, if we knew how it felt, we would probably be there by now.
If we knew how to get our ‘future self’ to tell our current self how we accomplished our goal—well, wouldn’t we just go ahead and take those steps now?
When we focus on these exact outcomes, precise feelings, we aren’t hearing our own wisdom. And that is what gets us to our goal.
The good news is that we don’t need to have any answers. All we need to do is clear the way so we can see the path.
That’s what quietude does for us. No matter how you arrive at it—exercise, aromatherapy, acupuncture, meditation, sitting in silence, or laughter or dance. These active measures break through the noise of confusion that goal-setting sets up in us.
When we get used to our silence, we can start hearing the solutions. That’s all we need.
Because every change consists of many tiny microscopic choices. Some so miniscule we don’t even realize we’re making them. But each mindset, mood, emotion makes that choice FOR us, if we’re not in awareness.
Living Between the Extremes is the research study Dr. Trina Hess conducted at Penn State University. Subtitled, “How do single, mid-life women reconstruct their identity after a work transition,” the study highlights those tools that describe and inform the process of change. Find out about the change programs offered by Dr. Trina Hess at www.HumorAcademy.com
Permalink
07.05.12
Posted in Humor & change, Laughter Meditation, Learning Identity, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 3:45 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
Yesterday I met my great-great-great grandparents. No, it wasn’t a seance. It was a road trip with my 100-year-old grandma, researching the family book we’re writing.
Several times during our far-country jaunt through the back roads of my grandma’s homestead, we would come to a crossroads. Grandma would say, “I don’t know where we are. But I think we wanna go left.”
And so we did. Through the jungle-like overgrown brush and trees, rolling hills and grass that was car-window-high. The GPS didn’t pick up any signal. ”I wouldn’t want to live way out here!” Grandma commented. Even though it was where she had probably taken many horse-and-buggy rides when she was little.
“I can’t BELIEVE how much those trees are grown up! This used to be all flat,” all farmland and fields. I said, “Well, it’s BEEN one hundred years!” She laughed. I added, “You grew up from a little tree too!”
Miles we drove through lush jungle-land. Just because it wasn’t the Amazon, just because it wasn’t tropical trees didn’t make it any less remote, unsettling or dangerous-feeling.
That left she knew was right: was. ”Look at this farm!” I shrieked at seeing the Colorado pines and majestic red barn set against a steep rolling hill range. I slowed the car to read the sign. ”Hey, this is the house you were telling me about!” Her father’s homestead. ”Oh, then the church must be on this same road!” she exclaimed, now more sure of where she was.
“This is all different now. I don’t know WHERE I am! But we need to go right.” And so we did. I motioned to grandma in the back, yelling over the air-conditioner and her failing hearing: ”Look at THAT building, that looks old!”
It was a grand, white building sitting majestically near a tiny bridge and stream. We had to make a sharp turn to reach it. Looked just like a picture from an old-time scene.
Grandma said matter-of-factly, “That’s where Grandpa went to school.” This was the picture on her wall! Of my grandpa as a first grader, standing with all the other sour-faced kids in their black stockings and shorts.
Next, she added, “We need to turn left.” The main highway led us around a bend and we veered off to the left into the cemetery road. ”The first one here should be Grandpa’s brother and his wife,” Grandma instructed. I got out of the car and looked. She was right. ”And on down is where my grandpa is buried.” We looked at the huge last name headstone and the two grandparents’ stones flat on the ground. ”Yes, that’s them,” I reported to her.
“Now, you can drive around the road, and his father’s grave is along the hill there,” she instructed. I drove, got out, and checked the name on the massive stone. Yes it was him. ”That would be my great grandfather,” grandma informed me.
We had found the homestead. We had even found the schoolhouse. We had found the gravestone. Without a map, without a specific set of guided directions. Just a general idea, and a sense of “knowing” which way to turn. And listening to this knowing.
After we got back home, I asked Grandma how long it had been since she’d been to that cemetery—our goal spot. ”Last time I was there was when grandpa’s brother was buried.” I said, “That grave said he died in 1962.” ”Oh!” she said surprised, “Then it’s been almost forty years!” I said, “No, fifty!!!”
We were both surprised by this time-realization. And, how she knew, sensed, intuited the right direction, even though she hadn’t been on these roads in over fifty years. And even though the current reality of those roads is vastly different from her childhood experience.
We know when we’re right. It’s in those days when everything falls into place. Seems seamless, effortless. Because there is no stress, no striving.
Is it something we direct? Or something we just let happen? How DO we do it? How do we know when we’re right?
1. Just. Wait. At each crossroads, we didn’t panic. I couldn’t even consult an “expert” because the GPS had no signal. The expert was that little girl in the back seat, who recalled turns, forks, sideroads.
2. Just Trust. We weren’t sure of where we’d end up every time we had to choose. But we weren’t afraid, we knew we could eventually punch in “Grandma’s House” in the GPS and find our way, once the signal returned.
3. Just Generalize. We had a main goal, which led to a general idea of the direction we needed. But the specific surprises we found weren’t planned. That made them even more special.
4. Just amaze. This wasn’t Vegas, or Scandanivia or the beach. No tourist destination, practically no people. But it was all new to us–even to Grandma it was new because it was so different from how she’d remembered it.
5. Just appreciate. Be grateful for everything that’s brought you to this point, the people in the past whose lives linked somehow to yours, in whatever way. The links that shaped and sharpened your sense of meaning. Your quest for direction. Your naming of your goal.
The big secret is that we ALL can find the cemetery. Our final stop, any end goal we may have. We all have that inner GPS that never loses its signal. We just have to uncover all the clutter, self-ness, and self-doubt. When we trust ourselves enough to know, we can almost-easily risk taking a turn.
Permalink
06.08.12
Posted in Humor attitude, Laughter Meditation, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 3:28 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
Just when you think you have it all figured out, life rings a bell. Or sounds like Darth Vader or brings out a big round drum.
This weekend I heard Tibetan chanting. After a presentation on Tibetan medicine, the speaker took his seat. On either side of him, a row of young Tibetan men. With their satiny colorful tanks, they could have been a high school basketball team.
But they were not. Especially when they started their chant. A low, guttural sound—like Darth Vader doing the ujjayi breath. The audience was spellbound. Silent. Wondering. Were we trying to make sense of this experience?
Could we?
Theirs wasn’t harmony as we know it. But it had the same efffect: Calmness.
I felt like a voyeur. Is it O.K. to be videotaping this, I wondered. I felt my analytic antennae arise. Some of the men had their eyes open—the men on each end of the row, while others seemed to be looking at notes. I felt an inflow of memories. Their fast-paced chanting reminded me of our gibberish meditation we do in Laughter Meditation.
All of a sudden, something jolted me out of my mind. Music. Or at least the-playing-of-instruments. It sounded less like music than a high school band warming up.
Just as suddenly, they returned to the slow chant. Just as abruptly, on to the faster paced chant. Words running and humans catching up with them, trying to figure them into some sort of context.
I couldn’t.
And so
I just listened.
Watched.
Experienced.
Even in my unanswered questions, I was calm. I didn’t try to stop myself from analyzing, from wondering: Is it O.K. that I’m taking pictures? I wonder if they can marry. I like the one on the end best. Does he mind that I’m taking pictures of him? I secretly hoped their chant words didn’t “mean” anything to me. I hoped I wasn’t converting; I don’t look good in orange.
And the bells, always the bells signaling —something. I remembered the bells my Grandpa used to collect. Why did he collect them? Did he have some hidden knowledge, like these Tibetans had?
More memories, more attempts at analyzing.
But there was nothing to analyze, nothing to remember. Because there was no form, no rhyme to this experience. Even so, I was strangely NOT anxious at being so out of control. I couldn’t predict what would happen next. And that was oddly O.K. I couldn’t even appreciate what had just happened because I had no reference point to process it. All I could do was merely appreciate what was happening in this present moment.
That’s what made the calmness possible. 
Permalink
06.04.12
Posted in Humor & change, Humor~Creativity, Laughter Meditation, Learning Identity, The Change Process, www.HumorAcademy.com at 1:45 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
We need more artists, especially during change. Take for example career change.
Typically a logical, sequential process of gaining money. But the more we follow this linear path, the less our minds are embracing the unknown. The rush for (and of) perfectionism stifles us. It also kills our sense of humor. It pushes people away, even as we push towards it. We isolate ourselves and hide our humanness. Our weaknesses. Our vulnerabilities.
Hey wait—this sounds great!
Until we see our thinking patterns dwindling. After all, we might spill some ill-fitting and unclean ideas on our pretty veneer.
Enter the artist. The right-brain, the non-conformist who breaks us out of our fossilized thinking.
As our minds cling to the security of a certain goal, something sinister happens. We lose a sense of openness, of possibility. Fixed on an image, we allow it to guide our choices—and our feelings about those choices. And, finally, our view of ourself. Our identity.
Enter the artist: Your sense of humor. It’s spiritual element cajoles you to claim and craft your purpose. Think about it: You wouldn’t have been given this disposition, this weird combo of abilities, if it weren’t for SOME purpose, some reason. Something higher than your ego’s saying, “You studied library science, you ’should’ be a librarian. Congratulations!”
Laughter lofts us above limited thinking. Laughter is a process, a protection, a powerful clarifier.
Laugh and you free your mind to think of other avenues where your skills may be useful.
Laugh and you reflect on all you’ve done with this conglomeration of skills and loves.
Laugh and you see ways to serve a larger world than what exists in your mind and your past failures.
We all want to be perfect. It’s a dream goal, everything will go well for us. But when we finally get it, that this goal is actually bad for us—we win.
Permalink
05.19.12
Posted in Humor & change, Laughter Meditation, Learning Identity, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 12:12 am by Dr. Trina Hess
Think you need to speed up, just to stay ahead? Think again. According to Laughter Meditation expert Pragito Dove, we need to think differently. To get ahead, we need to slow down.
Listen for the silence and center. This will make us feel more grounded. And from there, we become more relaxed and open to solutions.
It’s the EFFORT that constricts us.
It’s the STRUGGLE that confines us.
It’s the release that FREES us.
It’s the ACCEPTANCE that allows us.
To be us.
To get to the answers we need.
To attain the identity that will float us toward our goals.
How simple is it?
1. :30 sec. laughter
2. :30 sec. silence
Work our your calmness muscles. Build the body memory. Pragito says, “Don’t wait until you’re in a chaotic situation. You’re not going to remember,” what to do.
Start today, by listening to the entire interview, where Pragito reminds us, “You can lead your whole life like that. From a relaxed, calm place. And when chaotic things happen, you won’t be knocked down. You’ll be so deeply rooted in the earth, in your self.”
Permalink
03.13.12
Posted in Humor & change, Laughter Meditation, Learning Identity, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 3:23 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
Last week in unicycle class I tried out a bigger wheel. I was afraid at first, because I felt bigger wheel=farther to fall. So I avoided trying this new (to me) invention for months.
Some funny things happened when I tried something new:
I wasn’t afraid, and I didn’t fall. In fact, I felt more in control than I ever had on my smaller-wheeled unicycle.
What created this feeling of “in control”?
Slowness. That bigger wheel made me slower. And that made me more able to control the machine.
We think speed means momentum. Progess. We may be fast—but we’re also out of control.
In our culture, we’re trained to think and believe that slowing down means failure. We may even be afraid we’ll fall. Fall out of competition and fall out of favor.
Or we fear we’ll get hurt if we slow enough to finally become aware of our surroundings: The things in life that aren’t working. The things that speed has hidden from us.
So we avoid slow things like meditation, yoga, walking, gentle exercise, and naps and rest. They are for the lazy, the slovenly, and the destitute. Not for us: we are champions!
But it is exactly—and only—when we slow down that we can feel in control enough to gain our momentum.
To build speed in the right direction.
How will YOU slow down today? How funny is THAT?
Permalink
