Humor is an aspect of emotional intelligence, so if you've got it, use it.

Humor has been called "the best medicine" because it has a positive effect on our emotional system. When we laugh, a positive emotional response happens and our level of stress is reduced. Whether the humor is directed at oneself, at others, or at circumstances which seem out of our control, it creates laughter and laughter unites people.

Humor happens when we experience, observe or hear something ludicrous or absurdly incongruous. It's the element of surprise or the element of realizing a bold contradiction to something we take for granted that makes us laugh. The benefits of humor have been compared to the positive effects of cognitive therapy in stopping negative thinking and depression. 

Humor responds to our deep-seated need to feel connected to others.The closest distance between two people is laughter, and humor is an emotional skill that requires focus, timing, keen observation, awareness of others and a bit of artistry in order to make us laugh. When we get the joke, realize the absurdity, and offer the desired response, we do so as part of the group. For example, when we watch a sit-com or talk show, we are aware of a studio audience which reacts as we do. Creating humor requires perfection--having an eye for the incredulous, the audacity to bring it suddenly and surprisingly to our attention, and the tenacity to see it through until someone breaks into laughter. It connects people because it puts a positive and zany spin on normal activities that we all experience, taking us from the mundane to the absurd all in a matter of moments.

Humor is "the best medicine" because it creates laughter, a most contagious eruption. Making people laugh is not only an art but also an emotional skill that can be developed with practice. When we laugh or create laughter, we increase our ability to connect with others. We also create a sense of well being not only for ourselves but for others, as well.

What secrets does your house contain? You might not know, but your imagination knows for sure!

Writing should be effortless, not tedious, at least not until it's time to edit what you think is perfect. One way to start writing is to start with an image like the one above and let your imagination do whatever it wants to do, having no concern for political correctness or any kind of "correctness," for that matter. Once you have finished writing you can edit, make corrections, change the genre from story to poem or do whatever suits you. What I have written below is called a "brief writing" because I don't wish to call it an essay. I might transform it into a short story or poem at a later time or I might not.

Once upon a time, this was much more than a house; it was somebody's home. It is now the SC Welcome Center but it's still a house and like every house, it has history. Things happened here, some good but others, probably not so much. It would be safe to assume the homeowner(s) had assets of many kinds and secrets regarding such assets. But some secrets make beautiful memories. What secrets does this house seem to know?

I have a love-hate relationship with houses. Despite their calm demeanor, their historic value, their planks and stairs or other evidence of life well-lived, houses have personalities, attitudes and secrets. They invite us or dare us to enter. They can reveal a storied or problematic past or they can exude happiness and well-being. It doesn't matter whose name is on the contract, houses have a life and way of their own.  

Houses don't respect us because we hold the keys or because our blood and sweat helped make them beautiful. Houses do what they do--hold us hostage to a lifestyle, a person or a bank mortgage whether we like it or not. Houses sell or don't sell according to plan. They allow us to leave when they want. Houses are not owned; houses own us. They offer a place for our junk in exchange for sustained upkeep. 

Houses can become homes or they can be home-wreckers, depending on their atmospheric pressure. Houses begin to tell a story from the moment we arrive. Each window shielding some heavenly or burdensome truth, which is never shared if we want the house to sell or if we have neighbors who might tell.

Yet, we love and desire houses, working overtime to have one of our very own. Houses don't just look pretty; they validate our achievements, providing a habitat that reflects who we are or who we wish to become. Being validated is an emotional need which gets fulfilled when we make sacrifices and achieve enough to live a positive, successful life.

Despite their secrets houses are irresistible. They give us something to aspire to and something to think we own. More important, they give us a place to store and show off our assets. Most important, they validate us. So for better or worse, we need houses much more than they need us.

Countee Cullen poem illustrates how the brain works.

Science-based evidence proves that our brains are programmed to help us survive, but being in survival mode every minute of the day can lead to a state of depression or a state of constant fear. To keep us feeling safe and contented, the brain is programmed with a system of checks and balances that helps dampen our fear-response or that heightens our attention when we become too relaxed or too fearless. 

Despite keeping our emotions in balance, the brain is biased toward negativity in order to assure our survival. It remains vigilant when it comes to detecting negative emotions. As a result, it remembers negative experiences longer and in more detail, but sometimes when negative emotions appear, the brain can mistakenly detect a threat where there is none. 

When we face negativity, we respond quickly and we rarely forget. Because the brain is highly sensitive to what it perceives as a threat, negative experiences get stored away for future use. It takes several positive experiences to offset one negative experience. An article published 9/30/15 by the Highland Park Presbyterian Day School explains it very simply:

Brain science research shows that a negative experience has about seven times the impact on our brains than a positive one. We are wired this way originally for survival reasons. If you sense a threat (i.e. a predator in the bushes) an overreaction is a safer bet than underreacting.  

The poem that follows written by Countee Cullen further illustrates the point:

Incident

Once riding in old Baltimore,

Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,

I saw a Baltimorean

Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,

And he was no whit bigger,

And so I smiled, but he poked out

His tongue, and called me, 'Nigger.'

I saw the whole of Baltimore

From May until December;

Of all the things that happened there

That's all that I remember.

The speaker is reflecting on a time during childhood, but it is an experience he remembers in adulthood. The speaker probably never visited Baltimore again. 

Would you?