Laughing at myself

Recently, I read about a musician who inscribed this Chinese saying on one of his instruments: “Of all the ways to laugh, the best one is at yourself, but with compassion and love.”

The sentiment of that rings true. As I hurtle past my mid-70s, I find that if I laugh at myself and admit that I am a damned fool, life becomes easier than if I am trying to hew too closely to whatever rules are in play for the situation at hand. I have learned to accept that I screw up, and that I do so frequently, often in embarrassing ways. If I screw up, so what? I increasingly realize that it matters little, that I have too little life left to worry much about either my foibles or opinions of others about them. Also, if I laugh at myself, it lessens the sting when others laugh at me, and moreover, I find they are less likely to do so. Further, by admitting my own imperfections, it is easier to accept imperfections in others.

On the subject of laughing, I like to tell jokes. They are an important way for me to connect with others and to deal with the absurdities and tragedies of life as well as the hypocrisies and idiosyncrasies of which we are all vulnerable. My jokes sometimes cause me problems, however, and offer evidence that I am indeed a damned fool. I am often reminded that not everyone shares my sense of humor—people sometimes say that I know some good jokes but that I tell them anyhow. Although I try to avoid mean or truly crude jokes, now and then my sense of humor falls flat or offends someone. I have found, however, that if I tell a joke from the standpoint of myself, of being the fool, the idiot, the straight man, the joke comes across funnier than if the butt of the humor is an anonymous character.

The last clause of that Chinese saying is important too: to laugh at oneself with compassion and love. How true. Accepting our fallibility makes it easier to realize that most of the errors we make are irrelevant and inconsequential and, by understanding that, to forgive ourselves. That attitude allows us to cut ourselves slack, something we all damned sure need.

I think this verse from Leonard Cohen’s splendid song, Anthem, gets at the idea of compassion for oneself:
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in

It is the cracks in our psyche that make us human—our idiosyncrasies and quirks, the mistakes we make, the things we say that we should not have, all of our foibles. Those cracks allow the light to get in, showing us that we are human. By admitting that fact, we connect with the horde of the imperfect—everyone.

In closing, remember that it is no big deal if you fuck up. Everyone does, so get over it because it doesn’t matter. Besides, you and the witnesses to your mistake will all soon forget what happened, your error lost in the blur of life. If you struggle with the tendency to continue kicking yourself about some mistake, however, try thinking about sex instead. It will be more pleasurable and less harmful.