Laughing at Halloween Is A Treat

We all face stress every day of our lives. Much of that stress is caused by sources beyond our control so it doesn’t help to stress over that stress.

During this scary fun time of year, we can disguise ourselves for just a bit. Step out of our usual roles to become someone or something else, like a witch or a superhero or a princess or a pirate.  Halloween gives us an excuse to leave our everyday selves behind and explore new personalities and possibilities.

I encourage you to be creative; use your imagination; have fun and LAUGH!   Everything is made better with the treat of laughter.

Watch this short video message from me and learn how you can put more ha ha ha into your Ha-ppy Halloween!

Painting Nails, Pillow Fights? No, but We Laugh!

Last weekend I hosted a “big girls” sleepover. And by that I mean an overnight gathering of grown women. That is not a reference to body shape in any weigh, I mean way. Not that size has anything to do with my blog today. It’s about connecting with people who matter to us.

The children of one of my friends teased her that she was going on a “sleep over” at her age. I believe her son even ribbed, “How old are you?” We are women in our 40s who still make time to spend with one another to reminisce about the 26 years we’ve known one another, to talk about our lives today – or at least as much as each of us can get out before the topic swings in another direction- and we laugh!

We didn’t tell secrets, braid each other’s hair or engage in pillow fights (sorry to break the perpetuated stereotype that some guys like to imagine of feathers flying and tickle fights as Jerry Seinfeld indicated in “The Pool Guy” episode of “Seinfeld” in response to Elaine’s comment about doing “girlie stuff”) but we did do some of the same things that young girls do. We shared stories about the “boys” in our lives. We ate junk food. We watched a movie. We stayed up past our bed time (which is probably earlier than many kids these days – kids lead pretty mature lives with all of their extracurricular activities and texting to all hours of the morning). We shared more serious stories about personal health concerns, financial issues and relationship struggles. We connected. That’s what people do. At least that’s what people used to do…more often than we do these days.

I don’t want to sound like the stereotypical crotchety grandpa sitting in a rocking chair telling his grandchildren how in “his” day he walked to school uphill both ways in thread-bare shoes in the snow, but I am developing that “things aren’t how they used to be” mindset. When I went back to school to take my first graduate class at Marywood University in 2000, while working full time, I was required to read “The Naked Sun” by Isaac Asimov. It’s not the type of book I would have selected for myself but I enjoyed it and found it to be relatively easy to read. Although this book was published in 1956, the author had a pretty good vision for what the future would become with technology.  More emotionally disconnected for one.

There’s no doubt that we are now more connected with people around the world but have we lost the deepest connections in our lives? Do we value intimacy with close friends and lovers as much as we did in the past? Or… has that always been an illusion? A fairytale for leather-bound books and movies? I don’t have the answer. But I do know that we need to continue to work hard to stay connected with people who matter to us. A little handheld computer may be able to show you the temperature, time, texts from friends, sports scores and pictures of what your co-worker ate for lunch all on one screen at the same time, but can it do for your heart and soul? Will it ever make you feel alive the way that a hug or kiss can?  The way that holding hands or having your arm caressed can? Can it physically lift your mood the way a booming laugh that fills your stomach and lungs and then bursts out into the air can? I’m sorry but I don’t believe that any app can ever do that!

Let’s stay connected. Let’s laugh today and every day, no matter how many versions we have iEverything!

An apple a day is healthy but laughter throughout your day can be transformational.

An apple a day is healthy but laughter throughout your day can be transformational.

Yes Sophia, There Is A Santa Clause!

One December afternoon I was writing an article about my life as a woman over 40 without child. To summarize: society is geared toward families and children, especially in smaller cities that still hold traditional and some antiquated ideas about gender in high regard. I do flourish in my life as a single woman, without so much as a baby cactus in my home, yet some people might not fully believe that. I have a wonderful family, boyfriend, circle of friends and extended reach through my business, Laugh to Live! I connect in a special way with people when I lead laughter yoga that is quite fulfilling.  But I digress.  As I was writing that article, I received a call from my friend Jean who was upset about something that transpired recently with her granddaughter, Sophia.  Sophia’s heart was broken when her CCD teacher told the class that Santa Claus does not exist.

As Jean relayed the story and spoke of the tears that followed from Sophia and a few other children in the class who still believed in Santa, a light bulb, or should I say a string of Christmas lights, turned on in my head.  This had to be the subject for my next blog.

I don’t recall when I stopped believing in Santa. Fortunately no traumatic memory of someone tearing down my belief in the jolly old Saint Nick comes to mind. I’m not a parent (as I stated above) so I don’t know what the norm is or what the handbooks or Dr. Phil says you’re “supposed to do” when it comes to talking to your child about Santa Claus but I do know a thing or two about the spirit of Santa that still enlivens me at 43 years old. Let’s call it the Santa Clause – an agreement we have with one another that we’ll embody every magical trait of kindness, generosity and warmth that has been talked about in storybooks for centuries.

Every year my eyes and heart are filled with joy when I sit silently at night staring at my lit up Christmas tree.  And while it should be more than one time of year, I also know the warm feeling I get when I witness people being nicer, kinder and more generous to one another at this time of year. And let’s not forget the presents. I look forward to the feeling I get when I give a present to someone that I carefully picked based on their likes and interests. My reward is the smile that covers their face. And when I unwrap a present I receive, I have a similar feeling to what I had as a child turning the handle on my Winnie The Pooh Jack in the Box. I’m a bit anxious. I’m definitely filled with anticipation and an excited curiosity. Just today I was fortunate enough to experience that when I received a package from my friend Marie in France. (I was sure the large white envelope was a present for Christmas and sure enough … it was. I was thrilled to see a fuchsia leather-bound journal to hold my creative writing in 2015.)

As someone who was raised Catholic, attended Catholic school from Kindergarten through 12th grade and who attended church every Sunday until a few years ago, I know that Christmas is about the birth of Christ and not just a character named Santa.  We celebrate baby Jesus’ birthday. There’s no cake or pin the tail on the jackass because it’s a much more reverent celebration, but it is a party nonetheless.  It’s a festive time to share love and fellowship.  And guess what? That’s what Santa represents too.

I’m not sure if that CCD teacher got confused and changed the letters around in his head, but Santa does not mean Satan.  He should not be viewed as a threat or distraction to the true meaning of the holiday. Quite frankly, I think the church could use the help reinforcing their message of Christianity. (Although I believe that Pope Francis has been making a difference, moving the Church in the right direction. He is a man of the people.)  Santa can help spread cheer and the concept of goodwill toward our fellow man. I don’t think we can hear or see examples of that enough. And, we can pretend all we want but let’s face it, many Catholics only attend Mass at holidays so children are probably much better acquainted with Santa than their parish’s priest.

I don’t want to get too heavy. I’d like to keep this light, like the season. My point is this. Why destroy a child’s (or adult’s for that matter) belief in Santa?  Isn’t religion, like Catholicism, based on faith after all? We don’t see Jesus or God physically sitting at our dinner tables reaching for a second helping of mashed potatoes and gravy but we feel their presence in the sunshine on our faces, the trees that blow in the wind and in choices we make – how we live our lives.

Santa is here too. We feel his presence when we see the glimmer of lights reflect with a shimmer off new fallen snow. We are filled with a desire to warm up our cold night by holding someone’s hand or giving a hug.  When a child squeals with delight opening a present, we feel his presence. And when a family is decked out in new pajamas and slippers sitting around their living room being a family, expressing their love for one another and drinking hot cocoa, Santa is there too.

And when I look at my many postcards received throughout the year from my friend Marie in France and then her thoughtful Christmas gift each year, I think back to the October day more than 10 years ago when I met her on a train outside of Paris. That may not have been the Polar Express but I believe that the same spirit that embodies Santa was in the air and on the tracks that day. Because I have been blessed with a global friendship that has been one of the best gifts of my life.

Yes Sophia, there is a Santa Clause.

 

 

Procrastinators Rule…Once We Get Started

I think it all started in the womb (doesn’t everything?). It was Labor Day weekend and my mom’s doctor wasn’t about to have his holiday plans soiled by some pesky little baby girl, so he induced labor and delivered me on Friday afternoon.  That freed up his schedule so he could hit the links on Saturday morning, launch his pontoon boat in the Paupack, or attend a swingers’ convention (it was the early 70s after all).

Like a discovered fugitive forced out from the safety of his hiding place, I was dramatically removed from the comfort of my mother’s womb before I was ready. And I believe that ever since, I have been rebelling, through procrastination. (On a side note, please accept my apologies; this column was actually due last month.)  Nevertheless, I hope you can still appreciate the message here. Maybe some of your best friends are procrastinators; perhaps someone you love wears the scarlet P on his or her chest, or, the procrastinator, is you! If you’re like me, I forgive you for putting the paper down and not finishing this column for a few days. As long as you return soon, I’ll be happy.

The thing about procrastination is, it doesn’t keep us from being productive members of society.  Forgive me for bragging a bit, but I set some lofty goals and even though I take my time getting started, I do achieve them. I’ve written and published two books, ran my first marathon last fall, and left my day job to invest full time in my business: Laugh to Live! But I often wonder what else I could achieve if I didn’t put things off. I can only imagine the challenges I could conquer if I didn’t pause to watch hours of junk TV on Bravo. If Andy Cohen would produce the Real Housewives of Plains Township, I would watch it. The only differences I could imagine from the Real Housewives of New York or Orange County, would be the women in Plains doing their hair pulling and back stabbing at the church picnic instead of the Chanel store.  My name is Jeannine and I watch too much TV. (Here’s where you would say , as a group, “Hi Jeannine.”)

I don’t know why I put things off. Every time I begin a project days before it’s due or I wait until hours before a business presentation to prepare my notes, I seem surprised by my own behavior as if it was beyond my control. I tend to get nervous and worry if I’ll succeed. Well it’s time that I learn to embrace the procrastinator in me and feel confident about what I will accomplish.  The procrastinator in me needs love too. She may be a little tardy for the figurative party (I am actually a very punctual person so I’m rarely late for the literal party) but when she arrives, she’s fierce. The only alternative to accepting and loving the procrastinator in me is to change my behavior, or at least curb it.  I’m not sure how soon I see that happening. I bought a book once about how to change my procrastinating ways, but I only read the first two chapters. That was 10 years ago.  I may not have finished that book, but I’ve completed a number of important chapters in the story of my life.

The Smell of Leather Saddle Shoes in Autumn

I love these August days. Maybe it’s because I’m a Virgo and I associate this time of year with many years of happy birthday celebrations … for me, and for years, celebrating with my grandmother, a fellow Virgo.  Another reason could be that I was what one might call a bookish, kind of dorky kid who enjoyed the back-to-school season like any other joyful, colorful holiday. One of my favorite memories is that of the annual event of shoe shopping with my grandmother that took place around this time of year. It was exciting because it was one of few opportunities to express my sense of style. Because I attended Catholic school and wore a uniform from Kindergarten through 12th grade, there was little room for freedom of fashion other than choices like: cardigan or V neck? And white or maroon knee socks?

I also enjoyed picking out notebooks, pens and erasers. I treated those as fashion accessories. A simple joy in grade school was getting pencils and erasers that smelled like grapes, bananas or chocolate. And don’t get me started on the scratch n sniff stickers that were all the rage to put on notebooks. If I close my eyes really tight, I can smell the salty pretzel sticker. I also remember the fun I had getting a notebook in high school bearing the “dancing baby” from the TV show “Ally McBeal.” It was a conversation piece that always made me grin. I think little things produced  much more joy back then.  Today I do gain joy from simple pleasures like a good cup of flavored coffee, a sunny day and the smell of autumn in the air, but I think I recognize these opportunities for joy less as an adult. And when I do my allow myself to enjoy the moment, the moment goes quickly. The good news is that I’m aware and I am working to change that. Or at least I’m aware that I want to work to change that. I’m enjoying a good cup of coconut coffee while I type this. There’s a start.

Today I have the freedom to dress how I want for back-to-school season (as long as it’s in good taste, I am teaching at a Catholic college after all). I no longer carry on the tradition of shoe shopping and I don’t buy notebooks, pencils and loose leaf paper. But this morning I did have that all-too-familiar nervous feeling of knots in my stomach that eventually morphed into excited anticipation as I taught my first ever college class. (I ask for some leeway when it comes to my use of the word “teach.”)  Since it was the first day, I eased students into this writing class. We just got to know one another a bit and talked about the syllabus. I guess, technically, I was teaching them about the course and what to expect, while learning from them what they wanted to gain.

Naturally I took the opportunity to introduce students to the concept of laughter yoga, because that’s what I do, and because laughter works as a great ice breaker and brings the level of stress down in a room instantly. I asked them to stand and take a few deep inhales and exhales of ho, ha and hee. I didn’t want to take them too far outside of their comfort zones but I think this was just enough to loosen them up a bit and elicit a few smiles. I’ll take them farther down laughter yoga lane another day. I expect that we’ll have times throughout the semester when stress will need to be let out of the room so we can relax, re-focus and re-energize.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to find some coffee-scented stickers for my academic planner.