By Lizette Alvarez / Source: NY Times
I was in a vile, despicable mood when I arrived at laughter yoga. It was Wednesday, and my brain felt torn in one too many directions; the usual, only worse. Laughter seemed a remote possibility.
I waited patiently inside a nondescript office at 40th Street and Broadway among a group of wildly divergent strangers, with only my skepticism to keep me company.
“There are some simple rules,” Vishwa Prakash, the laughter therapist and coach who runs this group, told us at the start of the session, which is free. “Let’s be as joyful as we can. Let’s look at each other directly in the eye. And if you don’t know what’s happening, fake it till you make it.”
An hour later I floated out onto Broadway, ready to break into song and speed-dial a few friends to sign them up for the next class. This stuff worked.
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