Begav mig ut på min morgonpromenad så snart jag läst Karins inlägg som bland annat handlade om skrattmåsar — och bar så med mig tankar som räckte för hela promenaden, och mer därtill.
Det var skrattet som fastnade i hjärnan på mig, och jag hade inte ens hunnit över gräsmattan förrän jag hörde mig själv nynna på "Kokaburra Sits in an Old Gum Tree", och genast spårade skrattet ur, och jag befann mig på en massa olika platser...
Med fast hand föste jag iväg alla icke skrattande tankar och försökte nu tänka efter hur många skrattande djur jag kände till — det var inte så många: skrattabborre (som enligt Wikipedia är en vattensalamander) och skrattgrodor, se'n var det stopp, men jag mindes barnböckerna om dockan Skratt-Maja av Ebba Edskog. Böcker jag inte minns mycket av, men det gjorde inget för nu befann jag mig mentalt i Sydtyskland på en ljuvlig promenad när jag plötsligt hörde något jag aldrig tidigare hört. Efter en stund kom jag fram till en damm och förstod efter en stund att det var grodorna i dammen som lät. Nej, de skrattade inte för jag tror att det var klockgrodor jag hörde.
Jag vill inte kalla det vackert, snarare som melodiska mistlurar, men även om ljudet inte var så vackert, så är minnet av den höstdagen vackert.
Laughter,
Best medicine,
Happy life!
Laugh Laugh Laugh,
Don't take the strain into heart,
Lead a happy life!
Laugh out loudly,
Don't give chance for others to laugh,
Lead a contented life!
Laughter is the quality,
Offered only to the mankind
Who thinks what is right!
Best medicine,
Happy life!
Laugh Laugh Laugh,
Don't take the strain into heart,
Lead a happy life!
Laugh out loudly,
Don't give chance for others to laugh,
Lead a contented life!
Laughter is the quality,
Offered only to the mankind
Who thinks what is right!
Tänker tillbaka på de olika skrattminnen som livet skänkt mig, och det slår mig att de roligaste stunderna har inte varit när vi skrattat mest.
Jag känner folk som skrattar mycket — men inte hör de till de gladaste människorna här i livet — många tycks sätta likhetsteckan mellan skratt och glädje.
Kanske kan man läsa mer om sådant i "An Essay on Laughter, Its Forms, its Causes, its Development and its Value", av James Sully. Än så länge har jag bara nosat på den, och tycker att den verkar intressant för den tycks ta upp varenda tänkbar aspekt på skrattet.
Perhaps, the stoutest obstacle to the smooth flow of social intercourse is the tendency in men to lay stress on their personal importance. The superior airs, which seem with some to be as much de rigueur as their correct attire, are sadly inimical to companionship, whether the would-be companion be a man’s wife or a contributor to his journal. The one sure safeguard against the stupid clogging of the social wheels, which this chronic stiffening of the figure introduces, is the gift of a lively humour, whose alert eye would at once note a possible laughableness of deportment for onlookers. One may see this function of humour illustrated in that instinctive readiness of one who has had a perfect social training to dismiss laughingly from conversation the first appearance of an allusion to himself and his claims.
In all this, though there may be no conscious aiming at an end, social utility is not wholly wanting. Yet just because it is an individual temper, humour confers its chief benefits on its possessor in the privacy of life. Its solacings and its refreshings come to him through the channel of a new and genial manner of reflecting on his mishaps and his troubles.
Most men who have developed any appreciable fund of humour must know how the petty annoyances of life can be laughed away, almost as soon as they are seen advancing. When, for example, your lost pencil is discovered in its hiding-place between the leaves of a rarely consulted book; or, on the other hand, after endowing it with various sorts of mischievous flight, you perceive it lying close by you on the desk, where it has been dutifully complying with its proper law of inertia; you may snatch a compensating laugh from a moment’s reflection on the small ironies of things, or on the vast wastefulness of the world in the matter of hypotheses. Your vexation at the children who are at play in the road in front of your bicycle and refuse to retire till your bell rings a third time, instantly gives way to an agreeable smile as you sympathetically shift the point of view by recalling the fact that they are on their proper playground. The dreary ugliness of a London street in winter will now and again be lit up as with sunshine for you if your eye is focussed for the amusing, as when the driver of a slow van goes on nodding in blissful ignorance, while the driver of your ’bus behind, justly proud of his vehicle’s speed, pelts him mercilessly with the most awakening of epithets.
Laughing Child, 1620-1625
Frans Hals
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