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  • katec_nz
    I always love to have a good laugh. Take for example tonight, during a class, just as the soulful mantra meditation was coming to a close and we were on the
    Message 1 of 3 , Nov 6, 2003
      I always love to have a good laugh. Take for example tonight, during
      a class, just as the soulful mantra meditation was coming to a close
      and we were on the last `AUM' I choked on my `uuuuu' sound, this
      invoked stifled laughter from myself and Bhuvah which then spread to
      other members of the class. At the end of just about every class
      there is something good to laugh about. Like the guy in the second
      class this evening who, 2 minutes into the meditation exercise
      decided that he would be much more comfortable if he got off his
      chair and lay out on the floor. I found that quite funny, so did
      Emma. We laughed about it.

      Apparently children laugh approximately 300 times a day – adults 10.
      If you read the posts on the Sri Chinmoy inspiration page you are
      sure to get a lot of laughs. That's how I got inspired to write this
      post. It seems that many students of Sri Chinmoy have very good
      senses of humour and Sri Chinmoy himself has such a wonderful sense
      of humour. I found the following aphorisms by Sri Chinmoy at

      Your pitiful sighs
      Into your powerful

      Enjoy roaring laughter
      If you want to free yourself
      From attachment-forest.

    • dharmaja
      There is always hope for any man who can pitifully cry in the morning and heartily laugh in the evening.
      Message 2 of 3 , Nov 6, 2003
        There is always hope for any man
        who can pitifully cry in the morning
        and heartily laugh in the evening.

        ---- Sri Chinmoy
      • bahlulie_julie
        Hello all! I had a really nice experience when I visited my Nanna the other week. Nan is 82 years old, but has retained what is often referred to as a twinkle
        Message 3 of 3 , May 2, 2007
          Hello all!

          I had a really nice experience when I visited my Nanna the other
          week. Nan is 82 years old, but has retained what is often referred
          to as "a twinkle in her eye" or "that mischievous look." To me, she
          always has a sort of childlike look in her eyes, and loves to laugh
          and joke about, especially at her grandchildren's expense. Her
          wonderful sense of humour is one of her most endearing qualities.

          It was around dinner time when I went to see her, and while she was
          debating whether or not to eat the dinner she had just been served,
          we started to reminisce about `the good old days,' back when my
          brothers and cousins and I were all little children, and would spend
          our school holidays at her tiny unit on Bribie Island, which is just
          an hour and a half north of Brisbane. These were days of complete
          freedom: swimming, biking, napping, eating lollies from the little
          takeaway store down the road, and Nan was free to spoil and indulge
          us without fear of parental backlash… a bygone era of utter bliss!
          We stumbled upon one particular memory that had us laughing so hard
          we cried and woke up one of Nan's roommates, so I thought I'd share
          it. It isn't one I'm likely to ever forget!

          I was about five. One afternoon, my cousin, Tawnee, my Nanna and I
          were all going for a walk down to the shops. Previously, this
          required nothing more formal than a t-shirt and shorts, but for some
          reason, Nan was particularly dressed up in a brand new white cotton
          suit. Naturally a very stately looking woman, the crispness and
          newness of her attire added to the overall air of regal ness about
          her. She had also taken a great deal of care that day in advising my
          cousin and I against wearing our usual outfits of shorts and t-
          shirts, and had directed our tastes towards garments more becoming;
          two blue-and-white dresses that were usually saved for church.

          As the youngest in my family, and in the wider circle of cousins
          (this particular cousin was two months my senior), I was naturally a
          slave to various whims, schemes and often downright naughty plots.
          Being at the time quite timid, I lacked the nous to put a stop to
          what I knew were inevitably disastrous plans, certain to invoke the
          wrath of even the most patient of beings. This was one of those
          times. To be fair, I will never fathom why Nanna chose to dress us
          up so tastefully that day. The walk to the shops was one we usually
          made at least twice a day, and the clothes you wore at home were
          always the ones you wore to the shops. Times were simple. But I'm
          sure Nan had her reasons.

          The first part of our walk passed by uneventfully: we arrived at
          the shops, Nan bought us each an ice cream; we purchased some other
          small items and then left. Nan proposed we walk home along the
          beach. Ready to consent, I opened my mouth to say `yes', when Tawnee
          said innocently "Why don't walk across the road to the park first?"
          Nan agreed, but I remember even at this early stage sniffing danger.
          We walked across to the park, which was really just a tiny
          playground that backed onto a long strip of rainforest and a deep,
          mud-filled gully. You could climb down the grassy banks and, keeping
          to a worn dirt path, follow the gully through the forest for about a
          kilometre or so, as we had often done before. A harmless, gentle

          Predictably, when we reached the park Tawnee requested that we
          climb down the banks and follow the gully through the forest. As we
          descended the bank, I was gripped by an overwhelming sense of
          anxiety, triggered by a child's intuition of knowing when mischief
          is afoot. The anxiety rapidly turned into guilt as I realised I knew
          exactly what was about to happen and wasn't doing a thing to stop
          it. It was only in a matter of seconds before Tawnee gave Nan a firm
          push into the gully, and Nanna, resplendent in her new suit of pure
          white, fell squarely shoulder-deep into a large pool of mud and

          I won't repeat the indignant, nay, enraged splutters emitted by my
          Nanna that afternoon, as she repeatedly reached out her hand to be
          unstuck and was as many times dropped back into the waste amidst
          gales of hysterical, five-year old laughter. I can't adequately
          describe the figure she struck when she finally emerged, small
          patches of brilliant white suit still visible through the mud, and
          lifted her chin defiantly into the air, grabbed us both by the arms,
          scolded us for our naughtiness and marched us home along the beach
          to avoid further public scrutiny.

          Unfortunately, fate saw fit to be in a particularly impish mood
          that day, and no sooner had we removed our shoes and stepped on to
          the sand, then we found ourselves being chased by a vicious
          Doberman, which barked aggressively at us and gave no sign of
          retreating. At the age of five, dogs were my mortal fear, so I
          promptly ran into the ocean, shoes waving wildly above my head, and
          screamed hysterically in fear for my life. The three of us (Nan
          trying to hold on to two five year olds, keep her shoes dry and
          prevent us from all being mauled at the one time) were forced to
          wade waist-deep, or shoulder deep for a five year old, in the rough
          surf for nearly a kilometre until we reached home. The dog was in
          the whitewash the whole time, barking and snapping at us. He must
          have sensed two very naughty children. When we finally arrived home,
          wet, sobbing, filthy and shocked, having made a terrified dash past
          the dog, which still chased us up to the road, Nan discovered she'd
          dropped the unit key somewhere on the beach, and had to run back and
          find it before it got dark…

          Eighteen years later it's still funny. Nan, to her huge credit,
          laughed harder than I did, and says she's never forgotten and will
          never forget that day. I hope I can remain as cheerful and childlike
          when I am her age!

          Sri Chinmoy says about laughter…

          If you take your life
          As a fleeting lightning-laughter,
          Then no black evils
          Can stop the flow
          Of your heart-river.

          (Excerpt from Ten Thousand Flower-Flames, Part 32 by Sri Chinmoy.)


          My louder than the loudest laughter
          Is, indeed,
          One of my life-preservers.

          (Excerpt from Seventy-Seven Thousand Service-Trees, Part 1 by Sri

          To read more of what Sri Chinmoy says about laughter, please visit

          Julie :)
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