TBB reminds me that of the things I report that I can’t do — cry, sob, wail, scream, etc. — I’m missing the most important one, the one that has gotten me this far, the one that facilitates healing.
I can’t laugh.
TBB offers me the great and ballooning gift of getting my jokes, and not just the funny parts of them, though she laughs with gusto, but the meaning & pain that they hold within. She believes that it’s her experience of lifting herself with laughter that lets her connect with me.
That’s my life-myth, that I am too hip for the room. I was asked to do a poem in a benefit this winter, and I just responded that they were crazy to ask, that my stuff was way too intense.
Now, that’s not quite true, I know. Some people just love the roller coaster intensity, the sweep & feel of the words, separating them from the meaning within. Those people enjoy the work because it doesn’t remind them of the breaking of their heart, the severing of their hope.
But TBB wants me to come to Florida and laugh. She knows I need the laughter and beauty badly, the healing and affirmation that I can be understood and lifted by the delight & humor of a loving god/goddess (TBB says God, I say Goddess, We both say that the difference is not important).
We know how to play together, how to trust and uplift each other. That’s good, right?
Such a loving offer from TBB, but at this point the details escape me. I mean, central Florida in July?
Still, she’s right. I need the lightening of laughter.