Hook
We track biomarkers and habits for predictors of longevity, and yet, no one tracks how often we laugh.

Context
I can tell you my resting heart rate. I cannot tell you how many times I laughed last week. But most people can see the nature of my heart by the kindness of my face, my words, and my smile. Laughter paves the way for the gentleness of my heart to be shared and shown freely.

The research literature shows something quite startling:

1. People who laugh less than once a month have nearly double the mortality risk of those who laugh weekly.

2. Older adults who laugh almost every day have lower rates of functional disability.

3. Watching something genuinely funny improves vascular function.

4. Social laughter improves pain tolerance.

This is not about mood; it’s about longevity. It’s a direct correlation between the dispositions our hearts and our own cardiac morbidity and mortality.

Insight

When we laugh:

· Internally:

o Blood vessels dilate

o Stress hormones drop

o Endorphins rise

o Muscles relax

o Parasympathetic nervous system activation shifts us out of threat mode and into relaxation and flexibility

· Externally:

o Nothing changes.

o Circumstances are undisturbed

o Responsibilities stay the same

o Bills remain

o Diagnoses stand

o Conflicts persist

But the dispositions of our heart become more willing, flexible, and adaptable. Laughter is not about escape; it’s physiological nurturance. Adaptable systems overcome and endure.

Application
If laughter were a health metric, how consistent would you be?

Reflection Question
What would change if you treated laughter like medicine instead of an afterthought?

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• Laughter disrupts the tension of life’s circumstances without distorting reality.

• Play broadens our perspective and interrupts perfectionism.

• Joy and seriousness are allowed to coexist.

“If necessity is the mother of invention, play is the father.”

- Roger von Oech, A Whack on the Side of the Head: How You Can Be More Creative.

“You can learn more about a person in 1 hour of play, then 1 year of conversation”

- anonymous, falsely attributed to Plato.

Observation

I laugh a lot. In fact, it’s a defining characteristic. I am known amongst friends as the person who laughs at all things—bad puns, good jokes, joyful moments, even the terrible ones. I don’t laugh to trivialize the severity of a moment, but to bring levity into the seriousness of life.

When I met my wife, she was smiling and laughing. I have often said, “it’s as if all of the Earth’s joy is surging through her body.” She has a disarming, slightly crooked smile, welcoming eyes, a face that can light up a room, and together, we laugh constantly. Our home is loud, playful, occasionally inappropriate, and rarely solemn for long. We find humor in trivial things—parenting missteps, our own intensity, and even our deepest hurts. Our children often roll their eyes, but they always join in on the fun. It would be easy to mistake that disposition for avoidance or immaturity, but it’s not.

Some of my most meaningful clinical moments were created through laughter. I remember sitting with a dear friend and client in the middle of her profound existential distress. We had moved through grief, fear, questions about purpose and mortality. At one point she paused, and deadpan said, “life doesn’t have to be so serious.” The laughter followed. That deep, freeing laugh that reminds your Spirit that it’s free. We spent the next several hours laughing about the absurdity of being human.

Nothing about her circumstances changed. But everything inside her shifted. She felt lighter, unburdened, and liberated. Her shoulders relaxed, breathing slowed, and vision expanded. In that moment, by inviting in laughter, her life, her perspective, and her vision changed.

That moment—and specifically—that sentence has stayed with me ever since.

Revelation

There is a difference between denial and disruption. Denial distorts reality; laughter interrupts our identification with it.

When we laugh, the body responds—blood vessels dilate, muscles relax, endorphins release, cortisol lowers, social bonds strengthen. Large longitudinal studies have shown that people who laugh regularly have lower rates of cardiovascular disease and all-cause mortality than those who rarely laugh.

The research validates what I think we all naturally know. Laughter is good medicine. It frees us from the shackles of our perspective, loosens the grip of perfectionism, and unlocks the prison of reputation management. It allows us to see ourselves not as projects to perfect, but as humans participating in something messy and alive.

I often laugh at serious moments, not to trivialize them, but to stay grounded within them. Laughter reminds me that I am not the center of the universe, nor the sole architect of outcomes. It’s the permission that leads us out of catastrophizing, disrupting our vicious cycles before they distort our reality and skew the perspective of our circumstances.

The ancient wisdom of the Old Testament acknowledges this eternal truth, “A cheerful heart is good medicine” (Proverbs 17:22). The New Testament reminds us to “count it all joy” when facing any trial (James 1:2)—not because suffering is amusing, but because endurance forms something deeper within us…resilience.

Meaning

Laughter is play expressed and shared. It’s infectious in the air, spreading faster and further than the cleverest microbe. There is nothing childish about it. In developmental psychology and evolutionary biology alike, play strengthens flexibility, adaptability, and survivability. It is rigidity that causes stress, strain, and fracturing.

Seriousness can quietly harden into self-importance. We begin to believe every misstep is catastrophic, every awkward moment defining, every failure permanent. But laughter breaks that spell.

It allows us to laugh at ourselves instead of worshiping our image. It invites silliness, which keeps us grounded and humble. It creates relational warmth, signaling “everything about this moment is okay.”

As a family culture, we lean into this. We tease kindly, we exaggerate our flaws, and we celebrate ridiculousness. It does not diminish maturity or responsibility but rather humanizes it.

Joy and suffering do not have to be opposites or antidotes. They can sit at the same table because laughter does not betray truth, it helps us bear it.

What to Carry Forward

• You are allowed to laugh in serious times.

• Levity is a practice, a right, and a responsibility.

• Play keeps the heart young, nimble, and adaptable.

Reflection Question

Where can laughter soften tension without losing sight of what matters?

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Key Takeaways
• Not every relationship is meant to last forever.
• Grief does not mean the connection was a mistake.
• Liberation comes from honoring what was without trying to resurrect it.

Hook
Holding our past lightly gives us space to grow through transitions while still honoring the grief we carry.

Context
I’ve lost entire groups of friends more than once. Childhood friends when I chased something that looked cooler. High school friends when I left for college and told myself I was shedding baggage. Friends through divorce. Friends through sobriety. Each time, I minimized the impact, saying I was better off, convincing myself I didn’t care. But those friendships shaped me. They held versions of me that were trying, failing, and growing.

Insight
Transitions don’t only apply to roles like parent or spouse. They apply to communities and identities. When a season closes, we’re tempted to rewrite it as unnecessary or immature. That instinct protects the ego, but it blocks real integration and compromises integrity. Liberation is not about pretending we’ve outgrown people or places. It is recognizing that each era carried what we needed at the time. When we hold those seasons with gratitude instead of embarrassment, we stop compartmentalizing ourselves. We become whole.

Application
Think of a relationship that ended. Instead of explaining why it had to end, ask what it gave you.

Reflection Question
What past connection deserves acknowledgment rather than denial?

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Key Takeaways
• Human beings need connection beyond the self.
• Stillness helps us remember what we’re connected to.
• Meaning is sustained through relationship, not effort.

Hook
Most people aren’t really looking for answers, they’re looking for something to believe in and belong to.

Context
We live in a culture that evangelizes self-sufficiency, progress, and control. These priorities can take us far, but they also make contentment exceedingly elusive. For many, it shows up as a vague sense of absence, a pang that something essential has slipped away. I use the term “God-shaped hole” not to indicate a lost belief or rejection of faith, but rather as a hunger for something steadfast, grounding, and infinite.

Insight
Across traditions and throughout history, people have returned to stillness when traditional methods–language and effort–stop working. It is not intended to escape life, but to feel grounded in it. In those moments, something immensely larger becomes present. Some might describe this as God or non-duality. Others might call it love, unity, or the infinite. What matters is not the name, but our experience of being in relationship with something that isn’t limited by our own identity or capacity. That relationship sustains joy when life is generous and steadies us when life delivers suffering.

Application
Reflect back on last week’s The Practice. Take a few minutes today to sit without trying to improve or solve anything. Notice where you feel held when you stop reaching.

Reflection Question
What helps you remember that you’re not carrying life on your own?

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• Pain is information. Suffering is education.
• Transformation begins when we are willing to get uncomfortable.
• Integration transforms suffering into strength.

Hook
Nobody said healing was easy.

Context
This season has a way of surfacing what sits under the surface. Old memories, unfinished grief, and the quiet weight we carry into rooms filled with expectation. In my work, I often see the same pattern play out: someone names a wound they’ve spent years ignoring, numbing, outrunning, surviving. The moment they speak it aloud, everything shifts. Not because the pain disappears, but because it finally has space to move. That first acknowledgment can feel intense or destabilizing, but it’s clearing a path for recovery and rebuilding.

Insight
Trauma isn’t just the event, but what we are burdened with and the quality of resources we have to navigate it. It becomes a pattern that shapes how we see ourselves. Accepting it threatens our identity so we compromise our beliefs and behaviors to survive. That’s why the early stages of healing can feel more like rupture than relief; it is the very place transformation begins. The crack can be small, but it lets light in. What once was a source of suffering becomes the fuel that strengthens our unfolding back into wholeness when held with truth rather than avoidance.

Application
Notice one part of your life where discomfort shows up. Instead of resisting it, get curious about it. Ask yourself honestly: what is it trying to reveal?

Reflection Question
What part of you is asking to be seen so transformation can begin?

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