Why I Start My Day by Laughing for 20 Minutes

Some people say 10 minutes of laughter is equivalent to 30 minutes on a rowing machine. 'Nuff said!

Photo of Slowly Blossoming (SB) laughing with smiling, open mouth

Read more here:
Laughter yoga for good health
Laughter yoga alleviates depression

I attended some laughter yoga sessions in NYC a few years back. Enjoyed it a lot, but it was inconvenient to commute 45 minutes each way so I stopped going.

Then my dear friend Texas Chica told me there are free conference calls throughout the day and evening, every day, led by certified Laughter Yoga leaders. They start on the hour, and last for up to 20 minutes. You can just call in for a few minutes if that's all the time you have. Check it out!

Click here for information about free laughter conference calls.
If you live elsewhere in the world, click this link to find a laughter club near you.

I thought the 8 AM (EST) Morning Levity Call was particularly well structured; the others I've tried so far were more free-form. I can definitely feel it in my abs already. Perhaps this will help me get back to cardio exercise eventually…

Sleepover

The first sleepover I ever attended was at my friend Kathleen's house. We brought sleeping bags, admired her pink bedroom with the canopied bed, and retreated to the basement carpeted with lush shag. I remember doing other peoples' hair, singing into hairbrushes, worshiping Olivia Newton-John, and falling asleep wondering whether I would ever be invited again.

Painomenology, or playing the pain scale

I've never quite understood the pain scale that physicians and physical therapists use. It sounds simple enough. "Rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10, with one being the least amount of pain and 10 the worst pain."

The thing is: pain can't be measured on a linear scale. It has so many dimensions, and it shifts its shape according to the noise level, the people around me, the activity that I'm trying to do, my fatigue levels, and the availability of beautiful distractions.

Asking me to describe my pain on a scale of 1 to 10 is like asking a dog to assign a letter grade A through F to rate an item she is wolfing down.

During my brother's hip replacement surgery, I observed that he was not using the pain scale accurately, and in fact was refusing to take any pain medication. I blogged about it during the silence project, here.

I've been using the pain scale a lot recently, as I visit the physical therapist 3 times weekly. During my recent reprieve, I discovered to my delight that I can play the balafon a little bit if I hold the sticks quite lightly and make sure to remain completely relaxed.  Where does that fall on a scale of 1 to 10?