why is god laughing? by deekak chopra - excerpt
DESCRIPTION
In this refreshing new take on spirituality, bestselling author Deepak Chopra uses a fictional tale of a comedian and his unlikely mentor to show us a path back to hope, joy, and even enlightenment—with a lot of laughter along the way.TRANSCRIPT
Th r e e R i v e r s P r e s s N e w Yo r k
The
Path to Joy
and
Sp i r i t ua l
Opt im i sm
W HY IS GO D
L A U G H I N G ?
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Copyright © 2008 by Deepak Chopra
All rights reserved.Published in the United States by Three Rivers Press, an imprint of the Crown
Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.www.crownpublishing.com
Three Rivers Press and the Tugboat design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Originally published in hardcover in the United States by Harmony Books, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group,
a division of Random House, Inc., New York, in 2008.
Library of Congress Cataloging- in- Publication Data
Chopra, Deepak.Why is God laughing? : the path to joy and spiritual optimism /
Deepak Chopra.p. cm.
1. Optimism. 2. Joy—Religious aspects. I. Title.BF698.35.O57C46 2008
204'.4—dc222008002972
ISBN 978- 0- 307- 40889-1
Printed in the United States of America
Design by Lauren Dong
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Paperback Edition
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To purchase a copy of
Why is God Laughing?
visit one of these online retailers:
Also available as an Audiob
Read by Deepak Chopra
ook
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C O N T E N T S
Foreword by Mike Myers 11
Why Is God Laughing? 13
The Path to Joy: Ten Principles of Spiritual
Optimism 151
Acknowledgments 189
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Photo by Mark Seliger
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F O R E W O R D
I’ve had many heroes in my life. My father was
the first; Deepak Chopra the most recent. There was onehero in between who taught me about laughter. Hisname was Del Close.
Del Close was one of the founders of the Second CityTheatre in Chicago in 1959. He is the father of modernimprovised comedy as we know it, a leader of the Ameri-can satire boom, the inventor of the “happening,” a phi-losopher, a theorist, a great teacher, and most importanthe was funny— and he knew funny. Bill Murray, JohnBelushi, Chris Farley, Stephen Colbert, Amy Poehler,myself, and many others have all benefited from histeaching and his philosophy that comedy equals truthand truth equals spiritual growth. Plainly put, “ha-ha” isrelated to “ah-ha,” the sound one makes upon the realiza-tion of truth.
They say that the truth may set you free, but I findthat the truth can be very painful at first. As Lenny Bruceonce said, the equation for comedy is “laughter = pain +
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time.” Del would call the plus time “distance”; Deepakwould call it “detachment.” Both would agree that to beenlightened you must travel lightly.
Laughing feels good. In a fast-paced and entertainingform, Why Is God Laughing? lays out the spiri-tual/healthful nature of laughter as well as the mindset ofdetachment, gratitude, and brave truth-seeking that fos-ters such laughter and the inner peace that results.
My first hero, my father, used to say, “Nothing’s sobad that it can’t be laughed at.” An intense man, he stillfound humor in the darkest moments. My father livedthrough the Depression, the “Phony War” in 1939,World War II, the Cold War, and ultimately his own warwith Alzheimer’s. But even in his dementia he could findhumor in his own condition: so strong and innatelyhuman is the need to laugh.
Henri Bergson, in his essay Laughter, said that laugh-ter is an autonomic response from deep in the reptilianpart of our brain, and that it is triggered by the realiza-tion of our own mortality. In these pages Deepak hasmanaged to dramatize this brilliantly in the form ofMickey Fellows, a comedian forced to face his darkestfears. Deepak shows us that there is darkness in the worldand that comedy is a candle; he encourages us to meditateon the candle and not the darkness.
Why is God laughing? He gets the joke.— Mike Myers
F O R E W O R D
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1
Grace shines like a sliver of light. It pene-
trates the universe, undeterred by distance or dark-ness. You won’t see it, but it knows where it is
going. At any moment someone may be touched by itsmysterious power.
Even Mickey Fellows.On this particular day Mickey was speeding through
the Valley in his black Cadillac Escalade, keeping half aneye out for police. The L.A. sun glared off the freeway,but for Mickey, sitting behind his tinted windows andwraparound shades, it could have been twilight.
“Say that again,” he muttered into his cell phone.“The club owners aren’t happy. They say the new
material isn’t funny. They want the old Mickey back.” Itwas Alicia, his agent.
“Screw ’em. They should kiss my derriere that I evenbother to show up.”
Mickey Fellows had movie offers from two studios.His last divorce had made the cover of People magazine.
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The only reason he worked the comedy clubs at all was tokeep his feel for the audience.
Alicia didn’t back down. “You don’t want to play itthat way. You may need those clubs some day.”
“God forbid.” Mickey lit up another menthol Merit.God has the advantage of witnessing every lifetime at
once, erasing all differences. If you could look down onthe human race from an infinite distance, you’d seeEveryman was on the freeway that day. Like the rest of us,Mickey gave little thought to his soul. He didn’t want toface painful truths, so he managed to distract himselfalmost every waking hour.
At this moment, Mickey figured it was time for alaugh. “I’ve got a good one for you,” he told his agent.“My grandfather’s eighty years old, and he still has sexalmost every day. He almost had it on Monday, he almosthad it on Tuesday, he almost had it on Wednesday.”
Alicia was silent.“I think I have another call coming in,” said Mickey.“No, you don’t.”“I’m not kidding this time,” Mickey said. “Hold on.”
He pushed a button. “Hello?”“Is this Michael Fellows?”“Who wants to know?” Strangers were always get-
ting his number.
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“I’m calling from Cedars- Sinai Hospital.”Mickey felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. He
gripped the wheel tighter. “Yes?”In the few seconds between an impending disaster
and its crash to earth, an amazing number of thoughtscan race through your mind. Mickey saw himself at hisannual physical the week before. His wife’s face flashedbefore him, as clearly as if they hadn’t been divorced forfive years. Cancer, AIDS, car accident. Fate’s wheel wasspinning, and the arrow was about to stop.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fellows. It’s your father.”“Did he fall? Someone’s supposed to be watching
him,” Mickey said. He had hired a full- time housekeeperfor his father, a placid Guatemalan lady who knew littleEnglish.
“Your father got the best care in the ER. Everythingpossible was done to revive him, but he couldn’t besaved.”
Mickey didn’t hear those last words. As soon as thevoice said “everything possible was done,” a roar inMickey’s ears drowned out everything else.
“When did he die?”The voice on the phone, a woman’s and probably a
nurse, started to explain, but the roar kept blockingit out.
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“Wait a second,” said Mickey, pulling off onto theshoulder of the road. He breathed deeply, and shook hishead, like a swimmer knocking water out of his ears.“Could you repeat that?”
“He was brought in unconscious by EMS. It was amassive coronary. Your name was in his wallet as nextof kin.”
Mickey felt faintly nauseous. “Did he suffer?”The voice tried to sound reassuring. “If it’s any com-
fort, this kind of heart attack is usually quick, less than aminute.”
A minute that felt like hours, Mickey thought. “Allright, I’ll be right there. Will I find him in the ER?”
The woman’s voice said yes, and Mickey hung up. Hepulled back out into traffic and raced to the next exit.The news had come as a shock, but he didn’t cry. Hedidn’t know how to feel, really. Larry. The old man.Mickey’s mother was a breast cancer survivor, so if any-one died early he figured she’d be the one. His father hadalways been tough as nails. A joke popped uninvited intoMickey’s head.
A middle- aged woman drops dead of a heart attack. Whenshe gets to Heaven, God says, “There’s been a terrible mistake.You’re not due to die for another forty years.”
The woman wakes up and goes home. She figures she’s got
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such a long life ahead of her, she might as well look good. Soshe goes in for plastic surgery— face- lift, boob job, tummy tuck,the works. Two months later she’s crossing the street and a bushits her.
This time when she gets to Heaven, she says to God,“What’s going on? I was supposed to live another forty years.”
And God says, “Mabel, is that you?”Usually Mickey found comfort in his own jokes, but
this one was followed by a wave of guilt. It was no timefor humor, yet that was how his mind worked. Hecouldn’t help it.
The ER waiting room was a tense place, the air heavywith suffering. Desperate faces glanced up at anyonepassing by, hoping it might be a doctor. Mickey marchedup to the admitting desk. When the nurse heard hisname, she said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Fellows. Thisway, please.”
She led him through a set of swinging doors anddown a corridor lined with gurneys. On one of them aboy with his head swathed in bloody bandages satupright, softly moaning. They stopped at the swingingdoors at the end of the hall, and the nurse stood aside.
“Are you ready?” she asked.“Give me a moment, will you?” said Mickey.
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“Take your time. The doctor will be right insidewhenever you’re ready,” she murmured.
To settle his nerves, Mickey tried to imagine howLarry’s face would look in death. Instead, another jokepopped into his head.
God and the Devil were arguing about the fence that sepa-rates Heaven and Hell. “Your side’s falling down,” said God.“Just look at it.”
“So what?” said the Devil.“We’re both responsible for keeping up our side. Mine is
perfect.”The Devil shrugged indifferently. “So what are you going to
do about it?”“If you force me to, I’ll get a lawyer and sue you,” said God.The Devil only laughed. “Give me a break. Where are you
gonna find a lawyer?”Mickey chuckled, then he caught himself. “Jesus,
why can’t I act normal?” he muttered.“Pardon me?” said the nurse.“Nothing. I’ll go in now. Thank you.”Somehow, in his entire thirty- seven years, Mickey
had never seen a corpse. The lights in the room had beendimmed. A shape lay under a sheet on a table.
Jesus, Dad. You couldn’t give me a heads up?It was amazing how death stilled the air around it.
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Mickey pondered that and tried not to shiver. The smellof disinfectant made the room feel colder than it was.Minutes passed. Mickey pinched himself, trying not tothink of another joke.
A Catholic, a Protestant, and a Jew die and go to Heaven.At the pearly gates St. Peter says—
Somebody coughed softly next to him. “Mr. Fellows?I’m Dr. Singh.”
The joke flew out of Mickey’s mind. He turned to theIndian man in green hospital garb with a stethoscopearound his neck.
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” the young doctor mur-mured. He looked like he could be twenty, except for hisbristly black beard.
Mickey felt a twinge of guilt. He thinks I was praying.The doctor made a reassuring motion with his hand.
“You can come closer, if you want,” he said. Neither ofthem spoke as the young doctor pulled the sheet back.
It wasn’t nearly as hard to look as Mickey had feared.His father could have been sleeping. Larry’s color wasn’tpale yet. Even at seventy he was a demon for keeping agood suntan all year.
“He looks peaceful.”Dr. Singh nodded. “Do you want to know exactly
what happened? I wasn’t on duty when he came in, but
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I’ve reviewed his chart. Sometimes family members wantdetails.”
“Just a few,” Mickey said. He wondered if most sonswould be reaching under the sheet to grab their father’shand. Larry’s hands were folded over his chest. Would itbe creepier if the flesh felt warm or cold?
“It was an acute myocardial infarction. A massiveheart attack, at around two this afternoon. Paramedicsshowed up inside of five minutes. But your father wasprobably dead before he hit the floor.”
Mickey said, “So it was quick.”“Very.”Maybe that accounted for the expression on Larry’s
face, which wasn’t really peaceful, Mickey observed, butslightly surprised. If your heart was exploding and allyou felt was excruciating pain, would you just look sur-prised? Suddenly Mickey had a new idea that caught himoff guard.
I’m not dead, you chump. I’m just fooling, and I went to alot of trouble here. You get the joke, don’t you? You, of all people.
Mickey had to fight his sudden impulse to kick overthe table and knock his old man onto the floor.
That’s not funny, you sick bastard, he’d shout. And Larrywould explode into one of his big belly laughs as he gotup and dusted himself off.
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Then Mickey caught the doctor’s expression out ofthe corner of his eye. Was that nervousness Mickey saw?The young doctor might be green— maybe he hadn’tseen that much death himself. Mickey couldn’t tell. Butone thing he knew for sure. The situation definitelywasn’t a joke.
Three days later Mickey went to close up his father’sapartment. It was a small one- bedroom, part of a retire-ment complex in Culver City. He paid off Lupe, theGuatemalan housekeeper. She was the one who had foundLarry’s body.
“There, señor,” she said, pointing to Larry’s favoritechair, a Barcalounger that Mickey remembered fromwhen he was a boy. It had been through the wars, thedark blue leather arms worn and cracked
So that’s where you bought it, Mickey thought.After Lupe left, giggling with embarrassment— he
had slipped her an extra hundred and hauled her batteredvacuum cleaner out to her car— there was no reason tostick around. Mickey pulled the blinds, shutting out thelast feeble rays of twilight. He turned the thermostatdown and looked around.
Anything else?
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A B O U T T H E A U T H O R
Deepak Chopra is the author of more than fifty
books translated into over thirty-five languages,
including numerous New York Times bestsellers in
both the fiction and nonfiction categories.
www.DeepakChopra.com
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To purchase a copy of
Why is God Laughing?
visit one of these online retailers:
Also available as an Audiob
Read by Deepak Chopra
ook
www.ThreeRiversPress.com