Laughter: The Mini BRAIN SCAN

It’s another installment in the HUMOR SERIES.

If you’re new here or late to the series, get started on these previous articles:

1 Intro: Laughing from birth

2. Step 1: Tickle Rats

3. What makes something funny may surprise you

4. Jokers ARE wild: Subversive Humor
Screen Shot 2014-10-08 at 7.32.26 AM

 

How humor works like a mini BRAIN SCAN

(Secular) Biologist Robert Lynch, who also performs as a comedian, sees humor as an adaptive, learned trait; and one that helps us connect with others who share our values.

His theory about humor?
“You laugh because you believe it is true,” says Lynch, and his experiments seem back up his theory, at least partially.

A joke, in other words, is like a little brain scan: When we laugh, we reveal what’s inside us. -Robert Lynch

In an experiment Lynch conducted, a variety of people were video-recorded while watching an edgy comic who joked about gender inequality. The volunteers were then given a psychological test that measured their unconscious gender attitudes. Those with mid-20th century gender views of women being responsible for home and children and men bread-winning laughed harder at that joke than those with more progressive views.

 

In another experiment, people Lynch terms “self-deceivers” found much less humor in an entire joke reel, in general.

 

I’m guessing that because Lynch used this “self-deceivers” language to identify reluctant laughers, he probably laughs at just about everything. Naturally, if scientists are self-deceiving they are doing something wrong. Something unreasonable?

I’m betting that to Lynch “self-deceivers” are “other people”. Otherwise, he would term them “discerning” or “wise” or “judicious” or “pensive” or “still thinking about it” or maybe just “unsure”.

So, I wonder if he’s just a bit off the mark.

Could the phenomenon of less laughs be a combination of a few things he hasn’t accounted for?

• Could less laughter be a result of natural personality or temperament traits?

• Fewer habits of deep introspection?

• Previous experiences that predispose infrequent laughers to think quietly instead of giggle aloud?

• Or a mismatch in values? (What sorts of jokes were told? We don’t know because he doesn’t say.)

The subjectivity of laughter producing humor seems to be at play a bit more than his experiments can account for. And that’s no joke.Screen Shot 2014-10-08 at 2.51.54 PM

I do agree with Lynch on this point:
We can conceal our true opinions, but in the moment of unguarded laughter, we reveal our true preferences.

Lynch says that the trait of a sense of humor is desirable and its presence or lack thereof helps us select a mate: A sense of humor is always listed in the top five traits people look for when mate-hunting.

Plus, humor helps us bond with those in our group, or determine who’s outside our group. This does seem clear.


 

And lest we forget, (the non self-deceived?) Lynch likes to work the crowd at open mic comedy nights. Does this scientist have a formula?

Yes. Sort of. Basically.

Here’s how he does it:

He finds common ground and builds on it. First he works at locating something held in common. Then, he points out a shared opinion or value, and underscores something that rings true to listeners.

It might start with some simple commonality like the geographical location of the place, a sports team preference, or the clientele in attendance.

He’s also snarky. If you like that style you might be amused.

“It’s great to be in New York City again. The coral reef created by sinking subway cars off Manhattan has a 58% higher rate of stabbings than a natural reef.” (or something like that. blah blah blah…you can watch the video on his theory here.)

If I’m writing a joke, often what I do is I look at things that I think are true, that people tend not to admit to, or maybe reluctant to admit to, including myself. -Lynch


Of course, I don’t hold the similar belief that the reason for laughter happened ad hoc and by chance, as Robert Lynch contends. That idea seems more like a punchline to me.

“Why did the cave man laugh? I’ll tell you in ten million years…”

(yes that was mine)

Sure, we adapt using humor, and we always well, but I doubt the source of humor was landed on by sheer mistake or mutation + time. HA-but that’s a good one. You almost had me, Lynch!


 

What may be the case is something that isn’t so stupefyingly accidental or self-deceiving. Something reasonable.

Namely, that One beyond our comprehension designed and equipped us purposefully with a sense of humor and in a way that we can better socially bond in positive ways…because we inherently need each other.

In a future post, I will go a bit further and pose a kind of theory for the purpose of humor and the reason for laughter based on some work from different researchers and my own educational background.

 

The takeaway:
If you want to know what someone is really like and what they really think, pay attention to what and whom they laugh at. Laughter is a kind of brain scan.

And examine what makes you laugh.

Dig deeper and find out more about yourself and what needs improving.

 

I hope you’ve liked this series.

Tell me which has been your favorite post so far.

Come back for “funny friday” and the rest of the series!

xo

-Lisa

For the latest info on my humor related projects sign up here.

On Public Showering: The Accidental Peep Show

399448096_e44472b485_zI’m jumping ahead on Funny Fridays, today.

This true story happened a few weeks ago, and it just occurred to me that it makes an amusing tale…so here goes. Why not?

If you follow this blog, you know that I got a new part-time job this summer at a winery. I manage the Tasting Room once or twice a week. It’s been a hectic summer and I worked a bunch of my weekends solid, including missing 9 Sundays of church in a row–A first in nearly two decades. More on that another time.

 This is part cautionary tale and part embarrassing antic.

BACKSTORY:
So, I’m commuting 52 miles each way and working a bunch of days back-to-back and it dawns on me, finally, to ask my relatives if I can crash at their home which is only 12 minutes away. Instead of getting home at 11:30-midnight and fitfully sleeping for 5-6 hours and driving back again 52 miles for a hour meeting, this will make everything far better.

They graciously agree, but in the process of making plans, I forget that they will actually be away during that time. But, it’s no matter to them, they extend the offer and I’m grateful for it.

ARRIVAL:

It’s dark and I use my phone as a flashlight to enter their house and the cat is none too pleased. After hissing and keeping her ears back, I greet her.

“Hi, puppy. What’s wrong?” She doesn’t think it’s funny and she disappears for the rest of my stay.

SHOWER SCENE:

I’m achy, stinky, and ready for a shower and bed, so I head upstairs. I’m brushing my teeth and getting my things prepared when I realize a bit of horror…

The window is a big one, and just a sheer curtain separates me from the rest of the neighborhood.

Um, what?

I’m on a second story stage. All light is on me. I’m about to disrobe.

Have they not realized this is optical insanity?

I suppose plenty of people never realize that if one’s house is lit and it’s dark outside, one’s rooms are on display fully. Hum. Saying “one’s” make this seem very Victorian. That’s not the vibe I was going for.

Anyhow…At night, a lit bathroom it turns into like something you would find in a red light district.

Gulp.

If I went outside buck (or doe) naked, I would have more cover than this. I look like the main event, right now.

I imagine hearing slinky music start and then abruptly shaggy men near the street start grumbling and folding up their chairs.

Boo!

Where’s the regular?

We want silver fox!


Then, I blanch as I realize who might spend occasional weekends here, no doubt showering unaware. Oh God, why!

I fight off the urge to send a quick text and have a small vomit burp.

All I have to do is get a shower and get to bed. Stay focused.

ACTION PLAN:
There’s nothing to block the window. Finally, I decide to get undressed with the light off. Dark inside + dark outside = privacy, after all. That’s my plan.

Then, I think of the cat having a good laugh at my expense.

I’ll pretend I’m Hellen Keller. No she was deaf and blind. I think I’d just do a sponge bath if that were the case. No, I’m Mary Ingalls. I can hear Laura and Pa in the next room. The cat is whispering and making them laugh.

 

Perfect. Sort of.

Oh no, how will I navigate everything when I get out without getting water everywhere, or killing myself?

Wow, it’s dark in here! What a pain! Good, god, I’ll have to tell my daughter it’s a tricky business here.

After I step into the shower I reach out and flip the light back on.
(I can’t do the entire cleaning process blind. I don’t have the skills.)

All this thinking after a long day of work. It’s no match for me.

I deliberate behind the curtain…which I’m discovering is also rather sheer.

IS this all purposeful?

Do they have a web cam in here, or what?

Is this how they plan to save for retirement? Interesting.

Nightly Showers for Harrisburg’s viewing pleasure.

(Gracious tips are appreciated. Give them to the smirking cat.)

 

Gross! I’m in a freakin’ fish bowl here.

That notion will be hard to scrub from my brain as I try to sleep, won’t it now? I think.

I finish up, flip the light back off before I step out. Careful. Easy. I could twist an ankle.

This will be a fine mess if I fall and need an ambulance, yes? Curses.

[Day dream sequence: Queue harp music.]

 

Why is it dark in here, ‘mam?

 

-Well, I’m not fond of starring in peep shows and I fell. Oh, gosh. Can you turn the light back off?

 

Sorry no. We can’t see. Oh, look, a crowd is gathering down there. Where you yelling for help?

 

-No. I think they’re regulars.

 

Huh?

[End day dream sequence]

I towel off as best as I can and sneak for my room. Oh, brother. It’s facing the same way. Big window. Again.
Lucky me, a slightly less sheer curtain blocks it. I guess. A little.

NICE! Grrrr.

So, now I crouch down and get dressed. I flick the bedside lamp on. This will have to do.
Exhausted, I collapse into bed.

 

Modesty is something I need for me, not for other people, I suppose. At my age, I’ll attract gawkers, and hardly more. And maybe it’s doubtful anyone was watching. But, who knows…the whole experience was…memorable.

 

THE TAKEAWAY

If it’s lit in your house, and dark outside, be prepared to be a viewable object, like it or not.

It’s just simple optics.

Go ahead, grab a helper and do an experiment…keep your clothes on.

You’ll see what I mean. 

Robin Williams and a sad end

robinwilliams

I want to say something substantial about the life and death of Robin Williams, but I’m still reflecting on it. It’s too big.

My brain is stumbling and stuttering on it all.

Here’s a short something that’s been percolating today and I hope to find more thoughtful things to say later. It’s just sad and it’s hard to write when I’m sad.


 

A life cut short is sad and tragic. But, a life negated (taken. i.e. in a murder of one’s self) instead of lived is incomprehensible. Incomprehensible to a healthy mind.

The instinct to live is so primal that we avoid accidents and death reflexively. A deer crosses our path and we slam on the brakes without ever thinking that we are making the choice to save our lives. We duck when we hear loud sounds.

But, too much thinking that can go badly.

Depression is illness. One that kills. It grabs hard and won’t let go. Chronic depression is like a blindness that never really ends until you do. You can get through life, but you are impaired the whole time.

Having struggled with it in fits and stages since early adolescence, I’m more devastated by the idea of depression beating Williams than I thought I’d be. I also compensated for it all by trying to be the funniest person in the room.

Eventually, I looked for healing instead. Sometimes I feel like I’ve found it, at least in part.

“[of Depression] All it wants is to get you in a room alone and kill you.” –Harvey Fierstein

May his soul be now at peace.

Funny Friday: When Sleep is Boss (photos)

Have you ever fallen asleep in an odd place?

Standing up?

In the bath tub?

At the movies?

Sometimes, I get sort of a “sleep attack”. I don’t think it’s narcolepsy, but I’ll feel my brain start going into delta waves or something–like a sheet is being pulled down over me. It’s almost like passing out slowly.

If a cat is deprived of sleep first it goes insane and then it dies.

Cat naps are essential.

As fellow-mammals, I’m not sure that we are so different.

Sometimes sleep is the boss of us.

That’s why these 3 images were my favorites from a slew I came across. Which one do you like best?

sleepcat1Was this a wet cat trying to dry out?sleepcat2

Not sure about the lumbar support situation here, but I see a supple feline in complete relaxation.

 

sleepcat3

Waiting for hotdogs? (This could end poorly)

On Camping and “The Chatter of the Mind”

boating

For the last 10 years in a row, we’ve gone to Camp Swatara to…almost rough it as a family.

We just got back yesterday afternoon and began the de-camping process. 6 loads of laundry and putting things away for 3 hours. It’s more tiring than camping, and camping includes foraging for firewood to sustain your life.

For the first time, I didn’t take a single picture of our time away. (The photo above is from the camp website. It’s nondescript enough to resemble us.) It seems strange that I didn’t take any now that it’s done.

It’s an interruption to take photos sometimes, so honestly, I didn’t even think about it. My mind was chattering and I was more “in the moment”.

Later, off course, the photos come in handy to help you remember what happened. Right now, I think I remember something about killing 30 flies with the swatter and the surge of gratification that gave me–and something about S’mores.

 

My least favorite things about camping:

1. Too much humidity (Towels dry outside on the clothesline….never.)

2. Feeling covered in dirt and sweat 95% of the time

3. Feeling covered in sunscreen and bug spray over the layers of dirt and sweat

4. Bugs and all sort of biting and buzzing insects

5. Walking outdoors to use the indoor bathroom facilities

6. Thin mattresses that cause aches and pains

7. The hyper-vilgilengce about poison ivy and occasionally getting it.

(It all sounds like a dream-come-true, right?)

 

(some of) My most favorite things about camp

1. Having friends visit

2. The hospitality inherent in the camping community (sharing, chatting by the fire, friendly greetings as you walk around)

3. Family togetherness. Yes, it’s forced on you, but you can really start to enjoy it, usually.

4. The way things smell when the dew evaporates off the leaves in the morning.

5. How the day eases into the night and the darkness that comes to ease you into sleeping

6. Overcoming crisis together. Yes, it’s pretty awful at the time, but great memories and bonding come later.

7. Making fire and cooking with it, or using the firepit as a homing device. It’s hypnotic and primal and warm.

8. The refinement that happens when you realize what you truly need, compare to what you think you need. It turns out that you want things you don’t need.

What you really need: water, food, dry shelter and clothing, each other. What you think you need: a faster laptop.

 

In the end, you have kids that look forward very happily to the time away, and two parents (me and Tim, obviously) who are happy it’s part of our summertime, even though the whole process is challenging.

It’s actually the challenge that creates the satisfaction later, but you don’t know that unless you try it the whole way through.

If you aren’t psychologically ready to endure, you can get bitter or regretful (…um…so I’ve heard). Plus, it’s a dry camp, so there’s no wine to easy you into it.

 

The other thing is that intact families tend to camp together. I didn’t have this growing up and it’s a gift I give my children and myself now.

Yes, sometimes “split-up” families camp, too. But, mine didn’t.

Usually broken up families have a lot more scheduling issues and conflicts. Camping as an activity gets pushed to the side, unless you are very dedicated about it and keep it up.

 

And then there’s the Chatter of the Mind

And sometimes, though not this time, I get to hear less from the planning and inner monologue part of my “chattering mind”.

In general, this chatter may be telling you that you forgot ziplock bags at home or that, or that despite your efforts, you really aren’t worth much in the world, or that you should have cleaned out the vacuum filter more thoroughly, or that you made a mistake in explaining something, or that the people you were just talking to think poorly of you, or that you have to cook something that requires 14 steps… and how will be working out anyway, or the plans for the afternoon and where and how to apply sunscreen properly for it, or any number of things.

There isn’t much quiet in and about our minds, and not for very long. 

It’s called thinking. It can be incessant. It’s not just me, right?

If you finally reach that place in time and space where the chatter dies down, it’s almost deafening, actually. At first.

It tends to happen, not on family camping trips, but when I retreat away from home and I go alone. After 2-3 hours of intensional quietness–dialing down everything things improve. But that’s only when I’m being disciplined about getting away and pushing every nuisance thought back, or submitting it to paper, each time one surfaces. If not, it can take days, and too often never happens at all.

And after you tamp down or divert each thought pelting your brain you realize you’ve been breathing all wrong for much too long. You haven’t been able to separate the planning from the enjoying and looking around. You’ve forgotten the things you love or you have not noticed the things you should.

It doesn’t happen all at once that the chatter starts bullying you, but it happens.

(To come to my next retreat trip, click here.)

The chatter is an adversary that comes in pretending to be helpful and careful, as if it has your best interests in mind. But really, it’s just making you weary by using up too much valuable “mental RAM”, like (foolishly) running windows on top of a Mac Operating System.

How’s your mental RAM these days, anyway? Up to snuff?

Can you remember the last time you didn’t experience “the chatter of your mind” for some length of time?

(If you’re thinking about that now, or much of anything, then now is not one of those times.)

And if settling it all down sounds too close to death, then it’s been too long.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.