Hearty laughter is a good way to jog internally without having to

“Hearty laughter is a good way to jog internally without having to go outdoors.” Thus spoke Norman Cousins, a man who learned through suffering that the spirit itself can become medicine. In this playful yet profound saying, he reveals a truth as old as humanity and as vital as breath — that laughter, pure and wholehearted, is not merely amusement, but healing. It is a motion of the soul that stirs the body from within, a jog of the heart that renews strength and clears despair. Where medicine falters and the will begins to fade, laughter can awaken life again, for it moves the energy of the body as surely as running moves the limbs.

The origin of this wisdom lies in Cousins’ own life, for it was not born of philosophy, but of experience. Stricken with a painful and degenerative disease — one that doctors believed incurable — he chose to test an ancient law of healing: that joy itself can restore the body. Rejecting hopelessness, he surrounded himself with laughter. He watched comedies, read humor, filled his days with mirth, and discovered that each burst of hearty laughter brought relief. His pain eased, his body strengthened, and his spirit grew lighter. Against all expectation, he recovered. Later, he wrote, “I made the joyous discovery that ten minutes of genuine belly laughter had an anesthetic effect and gave me at least two hours of pain-free sleep.” Thus, his quote is not a metaphor alone — it is testimony to the power of joy as medicine.

The ancients would have recognized this truth well. Hippocrates, the father of medicine, taught that the physician must treat the mind as much as the body, for one cannot be healed without the other. In the courts of kings, jesters were not mere entertainers — they were healers of mood, physicians of the soul. Even the Scriptures declare, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.” For laughter, when genuine, loosens the knots of tension, renews the pulse of blood, and opens the breath that sorrow has constricted. It is the body’s own hymn of renewal, a sacred sound that restores harmony between the physical and the divine.

Consider the story of Charlie Chaplin, the silent comedian who brought laughter to millions in the darkest times of war and poverty. His humor was not shallow mockery, but a rebellion against despair. Through laughter, he gave people the courage to live when the world around them was falling apart. This is what Cousins understood — that laughter is not escape; it is resistance. It says to suffering: “You may touch my body, but you shall not conquer my soul.” In that defiance, the body itself begins to awaken, as though remembering that it was made for life, not decay.

Yet Cousins’ wisdom reaches beyond medicine; it speaks to the very rhythm of existence. To “jog internally” is to keep the spirit moving — to shake free the heaviness that gathers with each day’s toil. Just as still water grows stagnant, so too does a joyless soul fall ill. Laughter stirs that inner water; it cleanses, refreshes, and brings lightness to the mind. In laughter, we remember that we are not machines bound by fate, but living beings capable of wonder. It connects us with others, melts the walls between hearts, and turns solitude into communion.

But note that Cousins speaks of hearty laughter — laughter that rises from the depths, unrestrained and sincere. Such laughter is not cynical or cruel; it is the laughter of life itself, born of love, gratitude, and humility. It is the laughter of the child, the poet, the saint — those who see the beauty in imperfection and the humor in human striving. To laugh thus is to heal not only the body, but the soul; it is to say “yes” to life in all its strangeness and fragility.

So, dear listener, remember this teaching: seek joy not as luxury, but as necessity. Let laughter be your inner exercise — your daily jog of the spirit. When you are weary, let humor lighten your burden. When the world grows cold, let laughter warm you from within. It will not erase sorrow, but it will give you the strength to endure it. For in every laugh there is a spark of divinity, a reminder that life, despite its trials, is still wondrous and worth living.

Practical actions for the seeker: Each day, find a reason to laugh — not the polite laughter of formality, but the deep, unguarded laughter that comes from the heart. Surround yourself with those who uplift your spirit. Watch, read, or recall something that brings genuine amusement. When illness or sadness threatens to dim your light, remember Norman Cousins, and let laughter be your medicine. In time, you will find that your mind, body, and soul all begin to move together — and through that movement, healing will find you, as surely as the morning follows night.