Transcriber: Ian Edwards Reviewer: Leonardo Silva
So, for me,
this all started with Jack.
Jack is a 60-something backwoodsy, hard-working guy,
about 5-foot and spare change, with a long beard
and a luster of salt-and-pepper hair.
Jack's always been a hoot, and he'd
give you the shirt off his back before he'd see you shiver.
And, Jack had a favor to ask.
You see, his sister-in-law and dearest friend, Janet,
was dying of cancer.
She only had a few days left, and life was feeling so terribly heavy.
Jack wanted to offer this lifelong dancer an infusion of joy in her last moments.
So, he determined the answer... was clearly a hospice tutu...
Stat!
(Laughter)
Now, it just so happened that a co-worker of mine
had recently cleaned out her mother's old bridal shop
and spontaneously gifted me with this 40-yard spool of purple tulle.
Because…. I don't sew.
I don't know. No reason.
And now?
Whoa. Reason.
In one night, I made Jack the most unruly purple tutu I could muster.
It was a magical monstrosity.
Isn't he a vision?
(Laughter) (Applause)
Janet died.
She died before Jack was able to complete his ridiculous mission.
After her funeral, he returned this tutu of absurd proportion
with a "Wear it for Janet."
Beautiful people, I didn't have the words for it yet,
but, Jack was asking me to “Ridiculate.”
To ridiculate:
“To purposefully participate in communal acts of shared joy and silliness,
instead of dismissing them as being utterly ridiculous.”
I was being invited to step into my courage
and participate in some serious silliness.
Jack was asking me to bring lightness where life was heavy.
Beautiful people,
life can feel so very heavy so much of the time, right?
Even when we have beautiful places to go
and wonderful people to love and things to look forward to,
it can feel almost impossible to drag ourselves through one more day.
Sometimes, the only thing that makes a difference
is when we're gifted with even the briefest moment of joy and levity,
and, we choose to celebrate it.
Those moments become even more profound
when we share them.
So, let's get back to stories of tutus, Jacks and Janets.
It was about three weeks after Jack's Janet died
when my own dear friend, also named Janet,
went into the hospital for a fairly routine surgery.
There were complications, and her heart stopped.
She was resuscitated and had a long road ahead.
Now, my Janet loves purple.
She loves purple like only people who love purple love purple.
And here I had this magnificent monstrosity of a purple tutu.
Oh my God! "Wear it for Janet."
Negative body image be damned -
I donned the purple tutu and I took off to the hospital.
I "ridiculated." Right?
(Applause) (Cheering)
I stepped away from the "Hell no!" autopilot of ridicule
and stepped into some serious purposefully ridiculous engagement.
I afforded myself space to ridiculate.
I was profoundly moved and set my life on a new path that day.
The act of wearing this gargantuan tutu in public
also afforded other people permission to engage.
Instead of just visiting a friend, I was ridiculating the hospital.
(Laughter)
Patients and their families waved and giggled.
(Laughter)
This nurse, at the end of her 16-hour shift,
said I should come back at this time every day.
(Laughter)
And Janet said it was the best medicine she'd had in a long time.
(Applause)
Putting on a tutu and traipsing through hospitals
to share joy and promote healing.
Yeah, and then we laughed because that would be ridiculous!
Tutus are for festivals and football games, right?
Except what I discovered was that every time I don this ridiculous garment,
I afford myself permission
to be the fullest, boldest, most glorious expression of me.
(Applause) (Cheering)
I stopped just putting on a tutu and I started to "don my permissions".
Permission to embrace my fears, to experience freedom in my body,
to dance with my sorrow and live my courage.
I started to offer myself, and everyone I meet,
permission to be silly and gleeful, out loud and on purpose.
These tufts of tulle started out as a silly support for my own self-care.
But what I've come to understand
is the significant impact on community mental wellness.
Now, while I stand here before you today
as a tutu-wearing, hospital-traipsing ambassador of the “Divine Absurd”…
I'm also a mental health professional.
(Applause) (Cheering)
This is what happens.
(Laughter)
I operate a highly successful medical program
and I teach for the master of Social Work School in the university.
Beautiful people, I'm here to tell you: the science supports the silly.
(Cheering) (Applause)
Research suggests that the integration of play,
creative expression, movement, mindfulness and mutual aid
all constitute as "best practice"
in education, practical medicine, and mental health.
It’s widely documented that laughter boosts the immune system,
improves circulation and promotes actual physical healing.
I mean, hospitals will employ clown doctors
as integral members of their treatment teams.
Mental health professionals rely on creative means
to further stalled progress.
And they encourage the use of mutual aids
for peer support and accountability.
So, let's take this out of the medical setting.
Most of us don't need a diagnosis to know that we're stressed out
and, honestly, sometimes a little bit snippy.
(Laughter) (Silently: “A little bit”)
When we afford for purposefully ridiculous connection,
we're offering opportunity to engage all of these
best clinical practice in our actual lived experience.
We build community offering each other shared permissions.
We create networks of active support. We offer space for creative expression
and we break down barriers of communication.
These public access interventions create connections
to actual therapeutic goals and clinical outcomes.
Decreased isolation, increased movement and motivation
and a host of other supports for self-care
and community mental wellness.
So, I took them back to work.
I started bringing bags of tutus to my medical program
to hospice retreats, to community mental health events
and recognition ceremonies.
Along with my partner in ridiculous, we identified “ridiculation”
as a "tangible act of joy-filled mindfulness."
(Applause)
We started to ridculate public spaces... creating pop-up freedom festivals
and community process art.
We'd swoop in all danceable tunes and tutus
asking people to stop what they're doing.
“Don your permissions, put on a tutu and dance with us.”
Right now. On purpose.
People of every demographic of age, race, ability, income described feeling
“safe in their skin”, “liberated”, “powerful” and “beautiful.”
(Applause)
They said they didn't know why but this was just what they needed.
They laughed. They danced. And, they cried.
So many of them cried, while they danced
in tutus, at the mall.
(Laughter)
In the past three and a half years,
over 3,000 people have halted their day at work, on the street,
in grocery stores, bars, nursing homes, and ERs...
to stop what they were doing, dance, dress up, play
and be purposefully ridiculous.
Let's be clear, beautiful people. I'm not on a tutu mission.
I really don't care what you wear. If you don't want to wear a tutu
that's great with me.
I don't care what you wear.
I'm here to ask you to ridculate your life.
Caw back at the morning crow.
Play peek-a-boo with that toddler in the long line at the grocery store.
Sing a soothing song to your mom when she forgets your name.
Make that whisk your microphone
and give her an encore for good measure.
Those sometimes silly, sometimes tender moments
are small and often over as quickly as they've started.
Sometimes, they're easy to dismiss as being ridiculous and unimportant.
I'd like to challenge that dismissal today
and offer that these are the moments to celebrate
and create in earnest.
Consciously seek out moments of connection and wonder
and celebrate them on purpose.
This is the “What” we get to live for.
Beautiful people, tutus or not, it's time to be responsible
for your own ridiculous.
It's nobody else's job to make you happy.
It's not your kid's job to lighten your mood
or your partner's job to motivate your growth.
You are the only one that can choose to make any given moment
joy-filled and remarkable.
I implore you to recognize, celebrate and share that choice.
Extol that which is delightful, enormous and kind.
Find every joy seeker you can and create a network of nurture.
Hold ridiculously safe space for each other.
And, lastly beautiful people... move.
(Laughter)
When we're most frozen in fear, pain, sadness and anxiety
it can feel impossible to move.
Behold this opportunity to know courage
and move through what you are feeling.
If you get stuck, wiggle something.
(Laughter)
Just a little.
Don't hurt yourself...
even if you think it looks ridiculous.
Remember, beautiful darlings...
courage looks gorgeous in a tutu.
Don your permissions and dance.
(Applause)