BEING LAUGHED AT – SECOND TIME 'ROUND

© 2009 Howard McQueen

I was in a group awareness circle a couple of weeks ago. A friend immediately to my right spontaneously burst into a puppet show, using only his two bare hands, contrived voices and facial expressions. The entire group rose into waves of hilarity. As his act concluded, I was aroused further by a memory of my own and I spoke up and proclaimed my presence to speak in the circle.

Everyone’s attention turned to me and I spoke very briefly of an event this spring with my family. There was still so much residual laughter flowing I had to stop and wait before continuing.

It was very awkward and I felt very vulnerable feeling into this laughter, i.e. it brought up sensations of being laughed at. Everyone was looking directly at me. The facilitator even left his spot to my left and moved into the circle so he would have a front row seat to observe me.

I thought flashed through my mind “how am I ever going to top the previous puppet act? A bit of anxiety followed this comparison. Nope, this has nothing to do with topping. What I was drawing to myself was all about a group of people laughing “at me”.

Flash back to the fall of 1964
The first day classes began for seventh grade I began not knowing a single face. My family had moved that summer from Goldsboro NC to Savannah,. Ga and my dad had retired from the Air Force. Teacher had just asked each person in the class to stand up and tell what they did during the summer. I was a bit nervous, not knowing anyone and such. When I stood up and began to speak, my voice cracked (like the skinny tall kid in Spanky and Our Gang).

EVERY SINGLE CHILD LAUGHED.
I deeply contracted at the laughing.

I spoke some more and my voice cracked some more and there was the roar of laughter, filling my head with fear. I suspect I forgot to breathe. I looked at the only adult, the teacher and she was smiling, which my mind construed to believe that she was holding back, if only momentarily, her own laughter.

I became motified, terrorized by the taunting laughter of my peers. This fear escalated further that year and the fear deeply etched into my mental/emotional bodies. I tried sedation, i.e. sneaking in prescription cough syrup and guzzling this just before I had to speak. I would move to the rear of the room to avoid being seen or called on.

Later on in life, in my mid 30s, I became a workshop leader and a polished presenter. I relied heavily on powerpoint slides and scripted linear presenting. I knew my material inside out, and this allowed me to take questions improvisation-ally. Inwardly I realized I was still holding the fear, but the ultra well-preparedness and “expertise” helped offset this.

That is, until I have to speak from my most authentic self, a self that has too little experience with itself.

Back in the circle, real time
I am now back in the circle, allowing the laughter to wash over me. It is a little bit edgy for me, as I keep feeling the pain and terror of the past trying to animate me. I just allow it to play out, and everyone becomes quite, and I tell my story about being at lunch this past spring with my family and grabbing my plastic cup with a top and animating the the top so that it was speaking for me (the "high maintenance customer"), which set everyone at the table into insane hilarity. I realized that this is the gift of spontaneity, responding in the moment, not trying hard to entertain or call attention to yourself, just being joyful and free.

The group was no longer laughing, but there were smiles on their face as they joined me in this experience, this coming to terms with what was so emotionally jolting and imprisoning back in 1964.

Healing can come whenever we step into the moment and rest in peace with what is animating us. Healing is so incredibly multi-dimensional, reaching back into our past, paying forward our increasingly authentic experience welcoming more and more responsiveness with life.

If you have stories to share, howard@mcq.com. I will maintain anonymity if you so desire.