A wonderful quote popped up on my Facebook wall last night, and it resonated deeply within me:

Blessed are those who laugh at themselves, for they shall never cease to be amused ~ Unknown

What words of wisdom are contained that are unattributable, for that person really did consider deeply the power of humour as the greatest healer.

Two nights ago I had a wonderful evening with dear friends watching a number of seriously talented and very funny comedians bring around 700 people to their knees with mirth over what it was to grow up in a migrant family in Australia via Comicus Erectus. Five incredibly talented Mediterranean men who each shared their intimate and vulnerable truths via the chattels of humour detailing what life was like as a child of a migrant family. These truths were not only representative of my friends at school, growing up, but – it dawned on me – also mirrored the memories my ex husband had growing up too. Suddenly, everything made so much sense to me. Suddenly I realised a lot of things and though it has been 18 months, and there has been a lot of water under the bridge, for the first time, I was able to reach through a portal of understanding, to forgiveness to my ex husband for the wrong done and I reached that point through laughter, in the absence of the individual I felt wronged by. Nevertheless, it was still exceedingly powerful.

Through tears of joy, and gut busting laughter and the litany of home truths shared, one after the other, after the other, it occurred to me that the entire audience was being healed of their own pain, anguish, embarrassments, and were literally being validated by these incredible men in their honest portrayal of life growing up. It also dawned on me that if I had been able to reach this point, as a non-migrant, married to an ethnic man, that perhaps our son would also be touched the same way: through comedy and humour, to reach deep into the soul and help move him through to forgiveness, just as it had done with me the night before.

I have had such an interesting life journey, none more interesting than the past 18 months where my spiritual lessons have increased twenty-fold. Where suddenly so many things are falling into place, and where I have been able to enjoy the grace and ease of a beautiful existence, totally in love with life and my lover.

On a journey as I have been on – the fast-track to heaven as I’ve been known to call it, I have enough knowledge within to know that it was very important for my own development to move through to forgiveness as and when I could, because without that I would be shackled by my own self-made prison cells. Even so, it was difficult to ask that of myself. I never asked to be abused physically and verbally in a way that ended a marriage of ten years, and certainly never in front of my children. How does one get to that point of forgiveness when violence has been experienced and witnessed in such a way? I didn’t know the answer to that, but I did know that it was something to aspire to… when the time was right. How auspicious then, when afflicted with the flu, and tired and run down from a hot and heavy move of my lovers’ belongings into my new home that we should accept the offer to join them, at the Greek Club for a night of entertaining humour. Who knew that this night, the evening my lover moved into mine, that I would be released of resentment through such incredibly funny anecdotes, reflective of the experiences I had had in the 10 years’ prior that helped explain a lot of the foibles and misunderstandings away.

I felt that if I had been able to reach this point, then, very possibly my son, who is on his own journey in life, might also be able to reach a point of forgiveness towards his father in the same way I had. I purchased their DVDs and gave them to my son, who to my delight was also seen rolling around the living room floor in stitches at life as a migrant kid. As far as forgiveness goes, who knows, but I could see that the humour had reached a special place deep in my son’s heart and soul, and for me, that is absolutely priceless.

Inner work, on a spiritual journey, doesn’t have to be uncomfortable, or doom and gloom. It doesn’t have to involve a church, or abstinence, or silence, or any of those things. Simple validation using humour as the vehicle to reach a point of acceptance has proven just as enlightening as a week long sojourn in the Bali hills. Namaste.