A D V E R T I S E M E N T
Jim Clark / Pamplin Media Group
CherryWood Village residents Keiko Misaki, 76, and Dorothy Horne, 79, practice “fist bump laughter” in the Laughter Yoga class taught by Andrea Crisp.
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The merriment starts at 10 a.m. sharp. Fist bumping. Arm waving. Clapping. Chanting. Singing. Laughing. Lots of laughing, which is the point.
The contagious sounds pouring from the Laughter Yoga class at CherryWood Village retirement community in Southeast Portland lure passersby from the hallway into the activity room to see what’s so funny. Usually they can’t help themselves — they end up joining other CherryWood residents gathered in a circle around Andrea Crisp, a certified Laughter Yoga teacher who leads this half-hour mirth-filled workout every Tuesday morning.
Yes, laughter counts as exercise, according to Crisp, 34, who’s also a certified holistic health counselor and runs a business called Soaring Eagle Wellness in addition to Portland Laughter Yoga.
“The physical act of laughing boosts the immune system and serotonin levels, and lowers blood pressure,” she says.
Laughter Yoga began with Dr. Madan Kataria, a physician in Mumbai, India, who “decided to investigate the idea that laughter is the best medicine,” Crisp says.
Kataria and his wife, Madhuri, a yoga student and proponent, developed Laughter Yoga in 1995. What started as a Laughter Club in Mumbai has grown into a worldwide movement of more than 6,000 clubs in about 60 countries, according to the Katarias’ organization, Laughter Yoga International.
It’s not what westerners typically think of as yoga, says Crisp, who became certified through Dr. Kataria’s School of Laughter Yoga in 2008. “There’s no crazy stretching; the yoga reference is to the deep breathing we do,” she explains.
The program uses laughter as a tool — exercises in simulated laughter blend breathing, clapping and chanting, and inevitably give way to genuine laughter.
“There’s lots of childlike playfulness,” Crisp says as she whoops it up with the CherryWood Village group.
They practice “cowboy laughter” (“Woo-hoo!” “Yee-haw!”) And “lion laughter,” an exercise that stems from a yoga pose, except here they scrunch up their faces, stick out their tongues and show their “claws.”
Then there’s “VISA bill laughter” — you know, when your credit card bill is “so bad, all you can do is laugh and show it to your friends,” Crisp tells the group as she holds her hands together book-like, feigns horror, then bursts out laughing.
Beverly Larson, 85, is a regular at the Laughter Yoga classes. “It sure gets your brain active,” Larson says. “It’s crazy at times, but it’s fun.”
During what seems to be the only serious part of the class, CherryWood residents share things they’re thankful for.
“I’m thankful to be alive,” says Dorothy Horne, 79.
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