Something new
Making a house of mirth and light
One never knows what the internet is going to bring us each day, but just now I’ve read the bizarre story of a man in 1975 dying from laughter (too much extended hilarity led to heart failure—!?!). The phrase that stuck with me from the 4-sentence snippet reads as follows: “…a medically recorded case of extreme mirth…”
Can you even bring to mind what a state of “extreme mirth” might be? What it looks like? What it feels like? What it sounds like?
I’m reminded of the character of Uncle Albert in Mary Poppins—the man who can’t stop laughing. His lighthearted glee floats him to the ceiling. I imagine this could be considered a textbook case of extreme mirth.
But maybe it’s something more subtle, too. Something less fatal and more life-giving; something quotidian, folded into the rhythms of everyday life. More of an inner feeling that moves and motivates us to an existence that actually feels good within and without. A sensation that alights and enables us to float towards a life we love—and keeps us afloat even through the difficult times. A life that aligns with who we are uniquely made to be, in whatever ways we can muster, given the circumstances we’ve been handed.
A few evenings ago, as we were playing a game all together before bedtime, my 3-year-old looked at me and said, “My favorite feeling is being at home with you guys.” Extreme mirth.
The summer of 2024 was a time of high bliss for me—for our whole family, in fact. I rode one long wave of adventure, beauty, discovery, delight, freedom, and detachment from all the real and imagined things that had been weighing me down for such a long time. Extreme mirth.
Most days towards sunset we make our way down to the beach, for fresh air and movement and deep breaths. On the best days, these moments gift me with a vision of my smallness in the universe. This comes hand-in-hand with a reminder of the outsized role I play in forming how my boys both see and love themselves, and then love the world and other people in accordance with that view. Weighty, terrifying, but also, extreme mirth.
One of the most important tools for me over the last couple of years in changing both my internal and external state of being has been a lot of pointed question-asking. Not always questions asked by others, necessarily, but often questions asked by myself, to myself. Wading through these questions—living the questions, as Rilke would say—has brought me a fresh sense of awareness, clarity, precision, and awake-ness to my life that has allowed me to start shaking free of a lot of damaging habits I didn’t even know were there. It’s a stupidly simple concept, but it turns out you can’t make a choice about how you’re going to act or react anew until you’re aware of what you’re doing in the first place.
There’s something potent in recognizing one’s own agency and learning to become the architect in your own life (with the understanding that we can make choices towards who we become, but are ultimately never in control of the whole shebang). I’m reminded of a quotation from Kierkegaard that I had hanging on my wall for years—We create ourselves by our choices. When you make this shift in your mind, you stop letting life happen to you and you start moving towards a life of your own design.
Moving towards a life of your own design means choosing how and when and where you spend your time (with whom, especially), how you steward your resources, what thoughts and ideas you give your energy to, what ladders you choose to climb (or not), what and whose opinions and suggestions and input you value…and what you let just slip off your back.
This is a not a one-and-done kind of deal. It’s an every day practice of returning to center and making choices out of a grounded, emotionally-regulated space. By emotionally regulated I mean: noticing, managing, and taking responsibility for my own emotions and reactions in a healthy way. I get to choose how I respond to life (while also acknowledging that other peoples’ unregulated behavior is not my fault or responsibility and sometimes requires confrontation and/or healing—often both). At this point in my life, however, I mostly get to choose what comes in and what I filter out.
All of this work, this practice, this emotional sorting out of what it means to be a co-creator in one’s own life—it all leads to freedom. It leads to embracing complexity, nuance, and contradiction in one’s entire being. It leads to a life of extreme mirth, even if you’re sometimes crying as you’re full-belly laughing. It means allowing yourself to be a whole person in all of your messiness and singularity. It means not getting caught up in the swirling eddy of what so-and-so is doing, or what what’s-her-face might think of you. It’s the feeling of total aliveness…total presence to the life that is unfolding before you, without concern or comparison to what anyone else’s unfolding might look like.
The point is—a life of extreme mirth can be full of beauty, joy, intensity, love, spontaneity, lightness, hilarity, humor, ridiculousness, deep emotion—but it’s absolutely not determined by fear. It’s not a tiptoed existence just trying not to fall flat on your face, or maintain others’ expectations of and for you.
It’s more like a headlong dive into the abyss—maybe you’ll fly, or maybe you’ll hit rock bottom at some point. Either way, you’ll likely discover that the things we are told will bring us fulfillment and meaning are mostly bogus. And moving towards a baseline of extreme mirth is a sure bet for a lot of laughter, whatever circumstances you may find yourself in.
I can still viscerally feel a dream I had when I was maybe nine…I jumped off a cliff (or was swept off? Or pushed??) but instead of plunging at terminal velocity, I wafted gently through the air like a feather. I landed quietly. My return to earth was like being embraced by a soft pillow. The danger I expected was a fiction.
So once you’re free, what then? When you realize the free-fall is nothing but an opportunity to meet yourself more clearly, what happens?
For me, this embodied freedom has been an invitation to embrace my own complexity, my weirdness, my other-ness (which I have often felt intensely) more completely. It’s led to listening to my dreams instead of shushing them away. It’s led to something new, which is actually not so new, but truly just the culmination of the experience of being in my own body and mind over the last almost 40 years.
I’m calling it a creative studio, but it’s really just a big (metaphysical) sun-filled house where I finally let myself do and be whatever it is I want to do and be (alongside my partner in all things, Ryan). It’s a place to stop feeling hampered by this title or that (or the need to be readily understood by all people) and to move towards what moves me—and to help other people more honestly move towards what moves them.
It’s a space to explore all the things I love and all the things I’m good at—and to bring them together in service of others. It’s a workshop, a playroom, an art studio, a thinking place…and most importantly, a generous container for dreaming. A place for me/us to dream and even more significantly, a space to give others permission to see and hear their own creative dreams take shape, maybe for the first time.
ATELIER SUNHOUSE is my answer to the questions I’ve been living for a long, long time, and I can’t wait to see where it moves me. Maybe it will move you, too. I invite you to learn more about what we’re up to, and, perhaps, how we can meet a need of your own.
Most pertinently, among many things we are offering a curatorial gifting service for the holidays (and beyond) should you be in need of some nearly last-minute assistance…for big groups or small, corporate or private, personal or professional needs. We’d love to help make this season more full of mirth, and less a time of frenzied stress.
I’m also sharing some questions here that have served me well—perhaps something to ponder as this year draws to a close. I hope they will move and motivate you towards whatever new space or place you need to go, too.
- What does freedom mean to me? Is it tied to security, adventure, expression, feeling uninhibited, independence, control, space, dominance, ability to choose…where or how do I feel most free?
- What would it look and feel like to be rich in time and freedom?
- What risk or risks would I take if I felt I didn’t need anyone’s permission or approval?
- What would it mean for me to get out of my own way?
- Who are the characters from books and/or movies that I felt inextricably linked to when I was younger? Who did I feel most reflected and mirrored my true being? Can I feel that character within me now? Have I amplified or quieted that self inside me?
- How would I speak to myself differently if I knew that I was already perfectly loved, perfectly secure, perfectly acceptable? How would I speak or act differently to others?
- What would I afford myself if I embraced my own complexity, nuance, and contradictions?
- If I let compassion and mercy for all beings guide my way and my days, where would it take me?
- What changes would occur in my life if I stopped doubting myself? What would it mean to trust myself fully?
- What miracles would I begin moving towards if I stopped living into limiting beliefs about myself (like…I can’t do that because…or, that’s not for me because…or, I don’t fit in here/there because…)?
- What parts of my younger self need to grieve or be celebrated—and also be comforted by the me of now? What would I tell those versions of myself, given the time and space to do so?
Thanks for being here.
With care,
Julie
