I am standing in front of a group of people who are at various stages of dealing with cancer. We have come together for something called “The Hope Workshop” and because this was the first time I had presented it, I was more than a bit nervous. No one was laughing at my jokes and if I tried, I could probably hear crickets.
Everyone looks really serious and concerned.
They listen as I talk about what is going to happen. How we are going to laugh, how we are going to share “the wisdom in the room”, how we are going to do exercises to help us feel good. It feels a bit like the atmosphere on the first day of school and I must admit that I am a bit nervous and excited. The Hope Workshop has begun.
The next two and a half hours fly by, if you have ever been on stage in front of an audience or ridden a bike at high speed or heck, done anything that is truly engaging; then you know what it’s like to give yourself to something in the moment and just run with it. That’s what it’s like in The Hope Workshop. A group of people come together and very quickly become comfortable with each other. Complete strangers laugh, share stories and share vulnerability.
Quicker than I think possible this disparate bunch has become a group of friends that is eager to help each other. Suggestions come fast and furious and I try to capture them all with an old school sharpie on a flipchart. People are eager to share what they have learned on their “journey with cancer”.
Before I know it, the group leaps ahead of me and tackles issues I didn’t even know were on the table. I try to look like a calm workshop leader as someone shares an insight on a challenge that very few of us have faced. I am in awe of the life changing collaboration that’s happening right in front of me.
At the end of the night, folks tell me that they feel happier, lighter, that they even learned something. They thank me, which feels a bit odd because quite frankly, they helped each other with their insights, courage, and bravery.
It was my absolute honour to present A Spoonful of Laughter to the L’Chaim Cancer Support Group for Jewish Women last night. From the moment I walked in people were telling me jokes. “Oh, You’re the comedian? I’ve got a joke for you! A postman and a raccoon were walking down the street and…” And so it went. I was in stitches.
Taking a group of people who have had very little to no experience doing Improv through a workshop can be an adventure but these ladies went for it with incredible trust and enthusiasm. We talked about the medical benefits of laughter and how laughter can be such a powerful and positive tool for healing in our lives. As always at about the 20 minute mark the energy in the room shifts in a palpable way. We transformed from a bunch of individuals concerned about how we look in front of others to a unified group that is ready to share and take risks. Frankly, I love it. I’ve seen this happen again and again with groups of 15 to crowds of well over 100. When that happens it sets the stage for very good things to happen. We could see bits of this last night when by the end of our evening people were sharing their stories about the cancer journey, laughing at each other’s jokes and generally having a blast. Who knew a cancer support group could be such a good time?
Sometimes the best days start almost driving into a cornfield.
You remember that bit in the office where Michael and Dwight are in a rental car and following a GPS? They scream at each other in confusion and Michael ends up driving straight into a river? Well that almost happened to my friend Geremy and I recently on the way to a gig for Young Adult Cancer Canada. We were on our way to Cobourg to a retreat centre and were frantically looking for our destination. We were lost and the GPS wasn’t helping. We sped through the rolling farmland which would have been beautiful if we weren’t freaking out because we were late. I kept telling Geremy. “Its going to be OK, Its over the next hill , I know it!” He was less enamored of the technology. “I don’t know man, this doesn’t feel right!” The clock was not our friend as it ticked ever closer to the time we were actually supposed to be performing. Suddenly the GPS perked up and sounded particularly sure of itself as it announced “Please take a sharp left. Your destination is 10 metres away.” We looked to turn left-into a corn field. This didn’t look like any retreat centre I’d seen. We managed not to ruin the farmer’s crop and after pleading for help from people in a van buying eggs (no really), we ended up being literally escorted right to our destination. Score one for actual human contact!
We essentially walked in and started our presentation immediately. A room full of remarkably enthusiastic people greeted us and we had an absolute blast. We opened with some Improv and laughter exercises which got everyone cookin’ and then Geremy taught everybody to make homemade ice cream. Seriously. Homemade icecream. That’s what I call a good Saturday morning, and we didn’t even drive in to a river.
Hats off to the terrific people at Yonng Adult Cancer Canada. Your courage and positive energy are inspiring.
I had just grabbed my second coffee of the morning and was propping myself up with some much needed caffeine when I heard someone calling my name. “Rob Rob! Wait!”. A friend of mine rushed into the elevator and stopped the doors mid close. She piled on slightly out of breath and immediately started cracking me up on our way down to ELLICSR in the basement of TGH. A surgery she was scheduled for had been delayed and she did a hilarious imitation of the physician who delivered the news as Christopher Walken. I was in stitches.
She was funny, smart and better than many comedians I’ve seen on TV. The kicker was she has cancer and is going through treatment.
What gives? What is going on that someone I know who is going through a huge challenge in her life is bright bubbly and downright happy? On the surface it makes no sense at all. According to conventional wisdom, she should be ringing her hands and feeling terrible about the whole thing, yet she managed to cheer me up while I was going back to work. Was this some kind of Jedi mind trick that she was playing? Perhaps. Is she some kind of super being who can transcend pain and struggle? Maybe. My friend is very resilient but I also think that her mood really speaks to how we as people tend to get on with our lives regardless of what is going on. She was able to find comfort, hope and dare I say it, even a bit of happiness in her day. To me it was this big event and I think to her, she was just going about being herself.
I’m not saying we should all expect this of ourselves. Heck, not at all. There are times when we are sad or angry or having a tough day when it is completely natural, normal and healthy to express the fact that we feel lousy. I also think that there are times when we can sneak a little bit of happiness or even joy into the process in spite of what is going on. If we can pull it off, we’ll look like Jedi Masters. I’m sure Obi Wan would be proud.
“Sketch and improv comedian Robert Hawke was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in May 2005. He responded not with self-pity, but with comedy.” Justin Skinner
I had just grabbed my second coffee of the morning and was propping myself up with some much needed caffeine when I heard someone calling my name. “Rob Rob! Wait!”. A friend of mine rushed into the elevator and stopped the doors mid close. She piled on slightly out of breath and immediately started cracking me up on our way down to ELLICSR in the basement of TGH. A surgery she was scheduled for had been delayed and she did a hilarious imitation of the physician who delivered the news as Christopher Walken. I was in stitches.
“Sketch and improv comedian Robert Hawke was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in May 2005. He responded not with self-pity, but with comedy.” Justin Skinner