During my dance lessons and my gym sessions, I have a good time with my dance instructors and my personal trainer. Some weeks, it’s more challenging than others. For a couple of weeks after Hurricane Sandy, my vertigo was worse. When the barometric pressure decreased, my vertigo increased.
Sometimes, I walk into walls because although I give the command to turn, nothing happens. When I do that at the gym, I explain to Billy that it’s easier to stop at the wall, reset, and start up again than it is to try to turn, since I was giving the Turn command, but I wasn’t. We both laugh and I snort.
One evening, while Mark and I had a dance lesson, at one point, I had to stop cha-cha-ing and laugh. I was laughing so hard, the snorts just came on their own. Of course, neither of can remember exactly what it was now, except that it was about leading and following. I did let him lead. I did follow. That in itself is snort-worthy.
At AYE, I led a workshop the last day of the conference. I attempted–ahem–attempted to start the session at least twice. At AYE, I make no claims to being “in control” of a room. No claims at all. We are all in control of our own learning. At one point, I was laughing so hard, one of the participants said I was bright red. I think everyone snorted along with me.
Life is funny. It’s sad, too. But a lot of times, it’s funny. If I can snort three times, I know it’s been a good training session, or a good physical therapy session, or a good dance lesson. Because my sense of humor is involved, not just my physical muscles.
I’m not sure if laughter is a cause or an effect of emotional resilience. It’s necessary either way. I say, “Snort on!”
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