05.10.12
Posted in Humor & change, Humor attitude, Humor~Events, Learning Identity, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 4:22 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
On a sunny Saturday afternoon, nineteen of us took off in a hotel shuttle bound for glory. Or at least International Arrivals. With red noses, hand-made flowers, and bags of candy, we were flying free. What else but joy would cause normally sane people to wear funny hats, red noses, loud puppets, and a sense of fearlessness and go interact with strangers?
Just got done interviewing Danny Donuts, CPA (Comedic Performance Artist) as part of the Academy Interview series on Talkshoe internet radio. We discussed our recent field trip to O’Hare Airport International Arrivals. It was part of the Association for Applied and Therapeutic Humor Conference in Chicago last month. We did the “Applied” part, and we did it well!
That was the first thing we did right, without even knowing it.
1. We got rid of our ego. We didn’t care how ridiculous or stupid we looked or felt. As Danny said, “All we had to do was show up.” When we were sans ego, we could connect, interact, make eye contact un-selfconsciously. We were more apt to empathize with the weary traveler, the overworked agent, the eager family member waiting a loved one’s arrival. And so we knew spontaneously and naturally what to offer this or that person.
In doing that, we accomplished our second hidden task:
2. We gave ourselves permission to be zany. Our line formed to the right of the arrivals station. We shouted, we cheered, we offered candy and red noses. We smiled and sometimes sang. Our freedom allowed the people around us permission to smile. To laugh. To accept our candy and red noses, our flowers and our fun.
What were we really doing?
3. We altered the way we relate to one another. We formed relationships where the “real world” said we shouldn’t or couldn’t: With TSA agents. With French-speakers. With airline pilots. People far above us, or well below us–or so we thought. In that shared experience, what Danny Donuts calls a “space” that we created, there were no levels. Only humans. And most of them were fun.
4. “We were getting these people right out of customs,” Danny said in his interview with me. What he meant was literal. What we experienced was figurative. People really were out of their customs: out of their customary way they would act in an airport: Devoid of joy and filled with fear of the unknown. Whether they were arriving in America, in the waiting area to leave their country, or on a long shift at their job in the airport. What we brought them was something out of the ordinary–a reason to smile.
It all worked brilliantly because we attended to the main point:
5. We were respectful and compassionate. We didn’t just show up and make noise. Details were worked out, plans had been made, materials had been organized. That way, we were at some level of control, because the passengers and onlookers had no chance to be in control. We hadn’t asked their permission to join our space. But because it was planned out in advance, we offered a sense of security–even within our zaniness.
Want to see who was most likely to respond with smiles, laughter? Visit this short video clip and see for yourself! Who did Danny Donuts think responded the most? “The kids,” Danny said, “AND the employees: Because they were more in their comfort zone in the airport. The TSA agents saw something out of the ordinary, and so they responded” with laughter and smiles.
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05.02.12
Posted in Humor & change, Learning Identity, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 1:26 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
Driving on back roads the other week, middle of nowhere, looking for a town called “Frostburg.”
All of a sudden, I rounded a bend and there was an underpass, twisting around another bend. On the underpass was a quote by—of all people—Robert Frost. From the road less traveled. Literally.
I thought I knew what I’d see on that underpass. Vulgarity, graffiti, poor spelling. But definitely not Robert Frost. Do any people even LIVE out here?
I thought I knew where I was as I was driving. Before each wrong turn. But I was mistaken: that farm with a hill, and then a crossroads, the one that looked like Frostburg. Wasn’t.
The REALITY is that I was somewhere else.
How many other times do I do that, think I know exactly where I am—in my plans, in my writing, in the outcome of many goals and events. But all along, I had been somewhere else, on a different path.
Just like seeing that Robert Frost quote show up out of nowhere, in the middle of nowhere. Just like relaxing into the new roads, the roads less traveled. I can’t enjoy the new roads if I think I know everything about the roads—where they lead, who built them, where the pot holes are.
That graffiti reminded me that I don’t even need to know where the road goes. As long as I just keep driving, I can be pleasantly surprised.
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04.30.12
Posted in Humor & change, Humor attitude, Learning Identity, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 3:28 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
In ice skating class, we do pivots. Starting on the toe pick, we spin around using the other leg. We can go pretty fast, and it gets dizzying.
Just like change…
We get so wrapped up going in one direction. Even though we’re in a single direction, we may feel like we’re splintering off in many directions.
So how do we reverse this trend toward panic and overwhelm?
We merely switch directions.
It really IS that simple.
In ice skating, if we get dizzy pivoting in one direction we simply change and start spinning in the other direction.
Sure it may be awkward at first, you may be unsteady. But at least the old queasiness is gone.
And within this new direction, the dizzying array of confusion will subside. You will see things coming at you and moving away in an entirely different—opposite perspective.
How easy is it for YOU to change directions? How funny is that?
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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?
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03.03.12
Posted in Humor & change, Humor attitude, Humor~Health & Goals, Humor~Inspirational, Humor~Research, Learning Identity, The Change Process, www.HumorAcademy.com at 4:25 am by Dr. Trina Hess
http://www.talkshoe.com/talkshoe/web/talkCast.jsp?masterId=73081&cmd=tc Click the link above to hear today’s interview, completely improvised….BUT we learned how to say “Yes, And” and also how to “Do It Wrong, Do It Strong.”
Listen in and find out how you can be the spark to:
1. change the mood of a situation
2. alter people’s perception of what’s wrong,
3. give people permission to have fun!
Don’t panic, the sound returns…..
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02.28.12
Posted in Humor attitude, Humor~Creativity, Humor~Research, Humor~Social Media, Humor~Technology, humor & hope at 5:29 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
Want to know if you’re from Mars or Snickers? Check out today’s guest Ron Berk, Ph.D., and all his humor resources. Add humor, laughter, and fun to break down the fear barriers in education, testing, and even learning statistics! To listen to today’s interview, go here: http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/73081
Thanks, Ron—>
Ronald A Berk, PhD
Professor Emeritus, Biostatistics & Measurement,
Former Assistant Dean for Teaching,
The Johns Hopkins University
Email: NEW rberk1@jhu.edu<mailto:rberk1@jhu.edu> Phone: 410-940-7118
Websites: www.ronberk.com<http://www.ronberk.com/> www.pptdoctor.net<http://www.pptdoctor.net/>
LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/in/ronberk<http://www.linkedin.com/in/ronberk>
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pptdoctor
Blog: http://ronberk.blogspot.com<http://ronberk.blogspot.com/>
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/pptdoctor
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02.21.12
Posted in Comedy Around The World, Humor & change, Learning Identity, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 10:28 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
Today is Mardi Gras. And so, today’s Comedy Around the World goes–where else–to New Orleans.
Someone asked me what my favorite Mardi Gras memory was. Who remembers those things, right? Well I do remember my worst Mardi Gras.
It was during the running of the “Mardi Gras” Marathon. I put that in quotation marks more out of sarcasm than proper grammar. You see, the race was not during Mardi Gras—it wasn’t even in the same week. Mardi Gras seemed merely to indicate we would be running in New Orleans.
My vision was a big celebration, lots of noise, lights, beads, singing, dancing, and of course, unfortunately, running.
What happened was silence. Asphalt. Distance. And pain.
The race happened on a Sunday morning. Yes, in New Orleans. I’m not familiar with the town, but apparently there are no people out on Sunday mornings in New Orleans. Not only were there no people, there was no quaint running course that would traverse the historic town and its French roots, fine food and world-famous music.
There was none of that.
But there were transvestites! At each water station, groups of people—mostly men—competed to see who could win the prize for most outrageous costume.
Amidst all my pain, disappointment and more pain, there was a spark of hope in a red dress and heels, handing me a cup of water. (At least I am hoping it was water). I almost felt less pain as I took the cup and laughed as I drank. Then I looked forward to the next water station, and the next. Not just for the water, but for the distraction. For the joy and for the hope.
I could almost picture the finish line, and even my finishing the race. But that wasn’t at the forefront anymore. Now there was something else, another reason to keep running. A motivation beyond a personal-best time or a medal.
There was the hope, connection, and camaraderie with the people who know how important it is to LAUGH. Especially through the difficult changes of mile after mile on asphalt in a quiet, sleeping city.
Who is handing YOU water today? How funny is THAT?
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Posted in Humor & change, Humor attitude, Humor~Inspirational, Learning Identity, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 10:08 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
The labyrinth stood by itself on the other side of the road. To get to it, I had to cross the soft mushy ground and mounds of mud. Once there, I started into the maze. It looked like a condensed running track from high school. But the more I walked, the more I started to panic.
My eyes raced to trace the path direction further ahead of where I was: WAS there an end to this? Or was it a trick? Were people looking from the windows, was there a hidden camera?
I thought about cheating—maybe I should step over the brick lining that traced the shape of the maze. But: maybe that was bad luck? I was even thinking about going back to the beginning to check the map on the plaque there. But that would also mean stepping over the brick lining.
As I kept walking the path, my mind went back to grade school. Those maze puzzles—I used to cheat and start at the END of the puzzle. That way I KNEW I would find the solution! Then I could start form the beginning and just re-trace my steps.
I had also cheated on the vocabulary games. I would go to that letter in the dictionary to get ready for the word we had to speed-find. I would go there while the other kids were just taking out their dictionaries. “Trina wait for everyone before we start,” the teacher would always catch me. But I would still always keep doing it, keep working ahead.
Maybe the circular nature of the maze made me circle back in time. And maybe it unraveled past guilts, brought out to be unraveled by the maze? But my pattern of crimes isn’t too unlike what we all do when confronted with a dilemma. Work ahead, make sure we’re out in front of the other people, make ourselves look good.
This maze, that game, all of life is no different. We have a labyrinth and we have panic.
I laughed at myself as I rounded the next turn in the path. I saw that I only ever had to be concerned about the next turn. Not the next 22 turns up ahead. Once I realized that there was a legitimate end to the labyrinth, I relaxed.
All we have to do is keep moving, and watch where we are going. Putting one foot after the other, right in front of you. As long as we don’t stop walking, we will get out of the maze.
But unfortunately, change stops us in our tracks. The rug has been pulled, the jig is up. Moving is exactly what we can’t do because sometimes we forget how.
There IS a solution out there. You can say it’s God or a higher source, or simply the end of the ego. Got has his pencil at the end of the maze. And God is allowed to “cheat” like this because, after all, he created the game.
The only time we need to panic, rush, and come up with a quick answer that’s correct is when we’re doing our taxes. Otherwise, we can afford to rest in the comfort of the chaos, trusting that there IS a way out. If we only relax.
How will YOU get out of your labyrinth? How funny is THAT?
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02.15.12
Posted in Humor attitude, Humor~Events, Humor~Inspirational, Learning Identity, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 4:41 am by Dr. Trina Hess
I spent Valentine’s Day this year ice skating and then going to a funeral home. Big fun, right? Normally Valentine’s Day is riddled with anxiety: Will I get good gifts? Will I get any gifts? What should I get people? Will I be able to get my grandma’s gift to her in time?
But this year was different. No romance, no saccharine, no consumerism. Just pure love.
One of my fellow ice skating students is experiencing the end of her seventeen-year marriage. It’s her first Valentine’s Day alone–ever. Another friend just lost her sister and today was the viewing. My friend Mrs. B spent her second Valentine’s Day as a widow. In the midst of a cold, rehearsals, and deadlines, I didn’t even get my grandma anything—not even a card. How can any of that be called love?
It was LOVE that happened around all those events.
I called my Grandma to wish her a Happy Valentine’s Day. She didn’t say, “Hey, where is my card, the flowers, what’s going on?” That was love.
Today my ice skating instructor passed me on the adult basic skills class. Even though I still can’t do the snowplow stop. “You don’t know when to stop.” “Yes I do; I just don’t know HOW.” That was love.
At the end of class, my ice skating friend called happily after the instructor, “Happy Valentine’s Day!” She even cheered me up about the ending of my own two-year relationship. Her attitude made me think she was part of a happy couple, and getting lots and lots of gifts this Valentine’s Day! No. It was just love.
When I showed up at the viewing, the family was ready to leave. That I was dressed like a bag lady after hurriedly dressing after ice skating class—didn’t matter. I was there. That was love.
I remembered how we all spent a Sunday afternoon together last Fall, taking pictures of the leaves. I hugged my friend’s nephew, whose mom had just died. I hugged my friend and her sister. I didn’t know what to say. It was just love.
Then my friend told her family, “I’m going back in with Trina.” That was love. When I asked her if she wanted me to come to the funeral tomorrow before my appointments with both the periodontist and the orthodontist, she said, “Don’t push yourself.” That was love. That I just may make it a triumvirate and do those two plus a funeral–that isn’t love. But if you’re going to have a bad day, you may as well go full throttle. (“Do it wrong, do it strong,” as they told us in Second City…).
When I got home, I called Mrs. B to wish her Happy Valentine’s Day. “We made it through didn’t we?” she said. She’d seen “eight men in the store buying Valentine’s Day gifts for their sweetheart, and I got a pang in my Heart, ‘he’s not with me’…” and her voice trailed off.
She told me she’d spent the day with her family and her new puppy. We talked about the new kitten that wandered into my yard and my life. (And how I hope it isn’t the neighbor’s because I’m keeping it.) That was love. (And possession, but mostly love.)
We talked about the peeing on the floor, the destruction of newspapers. That the hyperactivity of the new puppy made her, “so busy I didn’t have time to dwell on it. He’s up in Heaven with Jesus this year.” That was love.
She said last year she was in such shock that nothing registered for her. This year nothing registered for me. And—I wasn’t worried about it. I can get gifts tomorrow. Cheaper. In fact, I can give gifts any time of the year.
Why does this day have to have a certain “look?” We don’t have any expectations about how people “should” act or be, or what to buy on Halloween, Groundhog Day, or April Fool’s Day. And so, those are the most enjoyable holidays (for me, anyway. Even though there are no iced sugar cookies at those times…).
I’ve decided that Valentine’s Day (or any holiday) doesn’t need to look like anything.
As long as there is love.
Love within pain is sometimes the most meaningful. The most profound. And the most true.
When we’re not focusing on our own pain, we are love.
And that was a Happy Valentine’s Day for me. How funny is THAT?
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02.10.12
Posted in Humor & change, Learning Identity, The Change Process, humor & hope, www.HumorAcademy.com at 10:43 pm by Dr. Trina Hess
Always swim with a buddy. That’s the advice we get so we don’t drown. But when we are going through change, sometimes we feel like shark bait. Like the flotsam and jetsam of life, strewn across the waves.
Maybe you feel like my research participants did. Alone in a sea of change. Alone, even within your own circle of friends and family.
When I realized I had too many participants waiting in line to be in my research study I was thrilled! Not just because I had obviously hit a nerve. But I was euphoric to point out to potential participants that they are NOT alone.
The reality is that people in transition are legion. Because we encounter change constantly, being a change-ling and outcast may just be the new “normal!” There is power in knowing this, and power in numbers. Eventually you’ll feel more capable, and—ultimately–hopeful.
Before they took part in my study, my research participants didn’t feel like they were “normal”–that is, healthy adults. They were at mid-life and not only were they not married and had no children, they were also in the midst of career change.
Their prongs included not only, “Where will I work?” and “Where can I find work that is meaningful to me?” They also fielded intrusive questions from the outside, wondering, “Why aren’t you married yet? You’re so pretty…”
Here’s how my study participants completed the change process:
1. Interview questions led the women to enlightenment. They could see that many factors had contributed to the confusion. The un-groundedness the women were feeling had its roots in places other than personal incompetence.
2. Previously unexamined–and therefore unchallenged–messages from childhood, family, school, religion, and media were exposed.
3. Within the examining process was a sense of humor. One woman suddenly realized how much emphasis she had placed on not getting married (so she could finish her education and career choices). “I put so much energy in not getting married, and now—I’m not!” She laughed at her pain and confusion, and created a peg of power.
4. “What do others say about this?” the women asked me. They were curious about my research findings, and whether their answers to my interview questions were typical. One e-mail contained the plea, “Help us.” Maybe their transition situation was painful, but it didn’t have to be encountered alone.
5. Once the other voices were removed, the women could see more clearly what interests they had, and those they had let slide away in the chaos. One woman knew for sure that her next career and her next relationship would reflect her new values. Another realized her own courage at confronting sexual abuse and creating a more healthy emotional life.
Each time we encounter change, we go through this whole process again. At the end of the process:
We find out what messages we want to accept.
We embrace a comforting sense of belonging. …. And best of all….
We locate those places where we can feel in control.
What will YOU find out during the change process?
How funny is THAT?
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