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The US in 2023 seems increasingly to consist of those who live in fear of giving offense, and those ready to take it. Today’s heightened sensitivity can catalyze a valuable raising of consciousness. Heightened, though, can slide into hyper. Given that chronic indignation stifles the free flow of thought, poisons the air, and literally makes people sick, we might all do well to take, at least occasionally, the proverbial “chill pill.”
Yet that’s easier said than done. The suggestion to “grow a thicker skin,” is more an expression of frustration than a useful remedy. The same goes for “Grow up,” and “Stop being such a snowflake.”
A more useful suggestion is to laugh more, especially at ourselves.
The benefits of a good sense of humor are well known. That, and the laughter it facilitates, reduces stress and feelings of depression, increases serotonin and dopamine, improves heart health, reduces pain, improves sleep, boosts immunity, enhances creativity, and so on.
It’s useful in psychotherapy, too—inside the therapy room, and out.
Freud saw humor as a high-level defense mechanism, able to reduce pain by giving sufferers a sense of power over it. People with a good sense of humor tend, also, to be better liked and more persuasive than the dour.
Shared laughter increases feelings of friendliness and connection. I feel renewed hope for humanity when I watch videos where both Black and white “reactors” crack up as Bill Burr and Dave Chapelle riff on race.
A strong dose of humor may not reverse aging and bring about world peace, but as any of the Three Stooges might have told us, “It can’t hoit.”
Self-deprecating—not self-debasing—humor is especially good at shrinking the shoulder chip many of us lug around. Counter-intuitive as it may seem, laughing at oneself can increase self-confidence, too. People who present themselves to the world, weaknesses and all, with no apology, show strength that perceptive others notice and respect.
The heaven of comedy is full of stars who made it big by laughing at themselves. W.C. Fields, a portly man with the large red nose of an alcoholic, played such a man in films. Phyllis Diller played up her lack of movie-star beauty by wearing her hair like a fright wig. Rodney Dangerfield got a lot of respect by claiming to get none. Bill Burr presents himself as the baffled, irate blue-collar chump he might have been, lacking his gift for comedy.
Q: How many [insert a group you are part of] does it take to change a light bulb?
A: One! And it’s not funny!
Laughing at ourselves can be hard. We’re social animals and dread loss of status and respect. If we admit, much less highlight, our failings, and vulnerabilities, we fear we will be mocked, bullied, ignored, and walked on by people eager to rise on our crushed backs.
That can happen. It can happen, too, that our self-image proves too frail to survive even a self-directed joke. In that case, we have psychological work to do.
How do people learn to laugh at themselves?
A good sense of humor is a prerequisite. The best way to develop that is—no surprise—to experience funny things. Let down your guard. Relax your sense of propriety, and become as receptive as possible. Then watch funny movies. Read funny prose. Go to comedy clubs, or watch comedy on Youtube. Be around funny people. This will help you to think like a comic and have fun in the process.
It may also boost your general creativity. Humor comes from seeing the world in fresh and unexpected ways. Watching a tall, gangly man move down a sidewalk in a ludicrous, leg-twirling dance, I laugh, then laugh harder to see him enter an office labeled “Ministry of Silly Walks.”
Humor may derive, too, from truths that people fear to speak.
Armed with a sense of humor, notice comical things that you do yourself. A man I know, initials CHW, can find a dog pile to step in if it’s the only one for miles. This same man has been known to mansplain and, engrossed in reading, to spill bowls of cereal into his lap.
If examples from your life don’t spring to mind, note things you do that would be funny if someone else did them.
Meditate as often and for as long as necessary on the Great Paradox of human life: your utter cosmic insignificance and immense cosmic importance. This helps to put life’s affronts, macro and micro, into perspective.
It’s vital to maintain an accurate perspective on our situation in the universe if we humans hope to continue living here. That perspective will sometimes provoke laughter. Think of Eric Idle in Monty Python’s Life of Brian, leading other crucifixees in singing “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.”
Granted, some things warrant outrage. Granted, too, self-deprecation is not always the best strategy. Humorless monomania may be best in a physical fight, or if you want to rule the world. Did Genghis Khan laugh at himself? And if he did, did anyone dare to laugh with him?
Hitler didn’t seem the self-deprecating type. On the other hand, that mustache . . .
To maintain a humorous perspective, and avoid overreacting to perceived affronts, I try to keep in mind the most tender, lyrical, and profound statement I know concerning that comic, tragic figure, Humankind:
“We are such stuff / As dreams are made on. And our little life / Is rounded with a sleep.”
References
Klein, Allen. (1989). The Healing Power of Humor. New York, New York. Jeremy P. Tarcher / Putnam.
Shakespeare, W., edited by Graff, G and Phelan J. (2000) The Tempest. New York, New York. Bedford / St. Martins.
