The Funny Cure

Viktor Frankl, famous psychologist who developed logotherapy, wrote in his book Man’s Search for Meaning: “The neurotic who learns how to laugh at himself may be on the way to self-management, even cure.” (I do think that in this instance the quote is attributed to psychologist Gordon Allport). In either case, Frankl thought that humor was highly significant in a patient’s recovery from mental illness to mental health.

 

World is full of darkness, and who knew that better than Frankl, a concentration camp survivor. But he also knew and believed that we have an amazing capacity for healthy self-reflection through the act of doing something for others. In other words, finding meaning in life through an encounter. And that in order to deal with our traumas, with deep pain and suffering, we also have to laugh. Not laugh at the suffering of others, of course. And not even laugh at our own past - Frankl never did such a thing. But laugh at obsessions, depressions, and neuroses that shackle us and prevent us precisely from that significant encounter with the other.

 

Humor can certainly sometimes be a way of avoiding the real self. But it can also eliminate the mask we have been wearing and suddenly, we may stop hiding. There is a certain level of freedom that comes with humor. Laughing, even from a physical standpoint, is good for the body. We feel awakened, in harmony with the world and at the same time oblivious to the surroundings. Humor is a way of being and a way of dealing with torments.

 

I grew up in a culture where darkness and laughter are sometimes indistinguishable. Bosnian humor is a dark humor - always showing absurdities of life through some sort of funny lens. It is usually indirect and has its own logic, similarly to a lot of Jewish humor. 

 

For example, I remember when I was a little kid, we had some company over. One of the kids was standing in front of our television and one of the guests was trying to watch something. Instead of telling him to move, he just said: “Your papa is not a glass maker.” (I hope it’s as funny in English as it is in Bosnian). It was a way for him to reprimand the child without ever reprimanding him or commanding him. The child understood, and I laughed. I wonder, though, if the child’s father really was a glass maker? Maybe then he would say: "Your papa is a bad glass maker!"

 

But enough of talking about humor! Go read something funny, or might I recommend, perhaps watching Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein? Perhaps you’d also care for some warm milk or Ovaltine? :)