a trustworthy world

Little and large, for good reasons and bad, I suppose everyone carries points of trust within the heart. Friends, enemies, sunrise and sunset -- the range of trustworthy circumstances seems to be woven into anyone's life, axiomatic and sustaining ... I trust my friend, I trust my enemy, I trust that anchovies will taste as yucky today as they did yesterday.

I'm not looking to dissect or diss the scene, but noticed today that when it comes to the bright lights of formatted spiritual life -- the ones anointed as good and trustworthy -- I really don't trust a (wo)man who does not laugh.

Sympathetic hearts, my own included, may go out to those who suffer and weep. In the Bible, I believe, there is a phrase, "and Jesus wept." And I have read that, when looking to the future, Gautama the Buddha likewise wept. Maybe there are other examples.

But what interests me is the unquestioning appreciation anyone might bring to such descriptions. Skepticism or even just a willingness to look things over goes on hold -- the sorrowful arrows of life are trustworthy and common and human and compelling ... no one asks; sympathy is extended as easily as a tear rolls down the cheek. There is understanding and sympathy and trust.

The bad stuff is credible and trustworthy. There is a connective tissue that will not be denied.

But laughter? Well, anyone might long to laugh, but it seems to be sui generis -- you either do it or you don't. Complete. Indubitable. Why anyone else might laugh is a crapshoot. I may trust that we share dis-ease and sorrow, but sharing laughter, trusting laughter in another ... how about that?

I don't care much why anyone might laugh, whether as anointed spiritual luminary or not ... but I do care that they laugh and that it is worth noting. My trust machine seems to insist on it.

"And Jesus laughed ..."

"Gautama got a case of the giggles...."

I like that ... and am happy for them.

No more holy or ameliorating facets.

Just laughter.