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Buddha Without the Wisdom

By Allen Klein, a wonderful "Jollytologist," reprinted with permission

Allen is a wonderful "Jollytologist," speaker and author on the value of humor in healing. This is a typical entry in his book The Courage to Laugh,* which shows how important it can be to laugh in the face of it all. Here he reprints comments of TV journalist Linda Ellerbee when she wrote in the January 1993 edition of McCall's about some of her cancer experiences and of being bald. You can learn more about him on his website.

[* NOTE: By clicking on the title and buying this book from Amazon.com, you help support LPO.]

I'm not suggesting laughing at other people's miseries, but you can certainly laugh at your own. If you don't, you have to find other ways to survive, and they all sound a lot harder than laughing.

Looking for the humor in things is a skill that has gotten me through even the worst of situations. In 1992, I discovered I had breast cancer and needed a double mastectomy. Cancer is serious. But there are funny things about it too.

That summer I bought some breast prostheses to use while swimming. Instead of fastening them to my skin with Velcro as the directions instructed, I simply inserted the prostheses into my bathing suit. When I came out of the water, one had migrated around to my back! Now, how can you not laugh at such a thing? Either you laugh or you cry your eyes out.

Sometimes you have to give others permission to laugh with -- or even at -- you. When a friend went with me to buy a wig to cover my hair loss from chemotherapy, we giggled at some of the truly silly-looking wigs we saw. Upset, the saleswoman said to my friend, "You shouldn't be laughing. Your friend has cancer. This is serious." I said, "No, you don't understand. A wig is not serious." And she said smiling, "You know, you're right"

It's something I've tried to teach my kids as well. When my 23-year-old daughter saw me with my bald head and no breast, she said, "You look just like a Buddha without the wisdom," and we both howled. I think we are never braver than when we stand tall and look into the sun and laugh. Laughter may be a form of courage.

This story reminds me of the comment a friend's son made after visiting me while I was in my last days of carrying twins (one weighed 6 lb., 6 oz. and the other was 8 lb., 6 oz.). As they were walking out to their car, the boy turned to his mother and said, "Gee, she looks just like a beach ball without the stripes." What do you look like? And can you laugh about it?

— Arlene F. Harder, MA, MFT

© Copyright Allen Klein