The Best Medicine

Picture this. Fifteen grown men and women, with seemingly nothing in common, wiggle and giggle around a textile design office on a spring evening. They have ants in their pants. Not literally, of course; this is a pantomimic segment in a long list of charade-like playacting that kick start Vishwa Prakash’s weekly Yoga Laff sessions in midtown Manhattan. This was my first experience with laughter yoga, a practice that was started by Indian doctor Madan Kataria in the mid-1990’s. Practitioners of laughter yoga sing praises of its many benefits; stress relief, pain relief, immunity boost, anti-depressant, improves circulation, etc. There are thousands of laughter clubs all over the world and if you’re too busy to leave home, there’s even a Skype group simply called laughterclub where you can sign in daily to laugh with folks as far away as Austria and Japan. This practice, while a relatively new one, is not just a flash in the pan.

Walking in I felt nervous, but as I was immediately greeted with smiles and introductions, I was put to ease. “You’re gonna love this,” one woman proclaimed, eyes wide. “Just let go and have fun,” offered her husband. “Fake it ‘til you make it,” Vishwa said, grinning a giant, warm smile.

As class started, Vishwa explained the rules. No conversations, no judgments, and most importantly, always maintain eye contact. We learned a chant that would carry us through the rest of the practice “HO HO, ha-ha-ha!” We integrated hand clapping and wild noises. The first thirty minutes were spent dancing and shouting and trilling and singing nonsense and jibberish. It was awesome! On the wall, there was a list of fifteen or so “activities.” Following these cues, the leaders of the group led us through what felt like a game. We marched around the room, locking eyes with each other, shouting gleeful noises and blatantly, triumphantly laughing in each other’s faces. There was no room for embarrassment or awkward moments because EVERYONE was doing it. How freeing is that? I went all out. Giant gestures, loud noises, unabashed guffaws that started as feigned but then quickly evolved into real deal belly laughs. I was sweating! Tears! Joyful tears!

Then came the wind down. We pulled out some quilts and sat in a circle, lights low, eyes closed. I could barely contain this feeling of pure ecstasy. I smiled and let out a few giggles as Vishwa led a short and lovely meditation. He closed by inviting us to be grateful for our capability to be joyful. I smiled. We turned to lay down on our backs, heads toward the center of the circle, Savasana-style, but instead of calm and quiet, Vishwa started a bellow that echoed into the hallway. We followed his lead and soon, peals of laughter contagiously rippled through the group like this winter’s flu. Unchained, uninhibited, glorious laughter moved through us in waves. My eyes were closed and I felt like I was floating, being held, weightless, by the sheer elation in the room. Slowly, we petered out. I don’t know how long we laughed, but judging by my sore belly and my aching cheeks, it was not short. As class ended, we milled about, drinking water and chatting about our experiences, all of them positive.

As I left, walking into the mess that is midtown Manhattan at rush hour, I was still smiling. Endorphines bounced around my brain as I calmly navigated Times Square. I felt as though I had just met with an old funny friend. There’s no doubt in my mind that this practice works. I only wonder if this smile will last until next week’s class.

Be Well,
Megan Tefft