Clawing my way back over the humour cliff

I’ve spent the past decade embracing levity in life, but it wasn’t always so.

I was sooooo serious.

I was the first-born who felt enormous parental expectations on my little shoulders. I was the one who took everything about life seriously—and was hugely anxious as a result.

I had to ‘pay my way’ through adolescence, I had to get good grades, I had to prove to my dad that my career choice was a good one even if it went against his wishes.

As I climbed the career ladder, in what was a male-dominated profession, I acted even more serious: no way was I going to be seen as flip or fluff.

I had fallen over what authors Jennifer Aaker and Naomi Bagdonas call ‘the humour cliff’ – and I wasn’t alone.

For me, and at least hundreds of thousands of others, I was caught up in the pursuit of ‘professionalism’ being synonymous with ‘seriosity’!

Want proof? Look at me in the photo below. That’s me, in the striped shirt on the left. This was the team of staffers supporting Queensland’s Premier Mike Ahern back in the late 1980s. I was one of his media advisors and speech writers. We were celebrating the anniversary of his arrival in the top job in Queensland politics yet I know I was wrung out: anxious, over-tired and seriously serious! I got out of politics (for a while at least) soon after.

According to Aaker and Bagdonas’ research, when levity is lost most don’t find it again until their late 70s.

I’m so grateful I bucked that norm, stumbling across Laughter Yoga, age 50. My inner child has not wanted to go back in the box since! 

Today, when workplaces engage me to facilitate Laughter Yoga sessions or workshops, I see it as an opportunity to help people reconnect with that spark of levity and joy.

Here’s the thing: Laughter Yoga isn’t about jokes or humour. It’s about laughing as a physical act—simply because we can. At first, it feels weird. But with practice, it becomes less weird… and more natural. You start smiling and laughing more in everyday life.

It’s not about punchlines or clever timing. There’s no risk of saying the wrong thing or a joke falling flat. Instead, you rediscover your capacity for lightness—and that shift can be transformational.

When you smile more, you’re perceived as more open. That fosters trust.

When you laugh more, your stress levels lower.

And when teams laugh together regularly, they tend to collaborate better—research backs that up.