For the past few years, I've been listening to a podcast dedicated to the talks given by Ram Dass.
For those of you not familiar with Ram Dass, he was a Harvard professor turned spiritual guru in the 1960s. He went on to write a well-received book called Be Here Now, about his experience with meditation, yoga, and spirituality.
Some might call Ram Dass a subject matter expert in these areas, but it's the way he delivers the lectures that I've been most interested in for some time.
The pattern I've picked up on after listening to 20+ episodes is that Ram Dass spends the first 75% of his talks telling hilarious, self-deprecating stories about his own life and spiritual practice. In my experience, being especially funny is unique in both academic and spiritual contexts.
But then, in the final 10-15 minutes, after he's had us belly laughing for the previous twenty, Dass drops the real message. At this point, he's laid all the groundwork — he's done pointing out his own shortcomings — and he moves us into the real lesson of that particular lecture.
I believe Ram Dass knew he wouldn't be able to deliver these final lessons without first helping us open up. Helping us drop our defenses and put down our armor so our hearts and minds are open to hear something new and potentially revolutionary. And he had to do this in a covert way — because if we knew he was disarming us, we would've held on tightly to whatever beliefs we already possessed.
He did it through humor. By making us laugh and smile. And I believe laughter is one of the most vulnerable acts we can engage in. Physically, it's very similar to crying, although it feels very different in real time.
There's a similar process that happens when people get sober. As alcoholics, we hold onto our way of doing things until we "hit bottom." Hitting bottom, unfortunately, is the only way for most alcoholics to realize their best thinking got them exactly where they are in life.
Hitting bottom is tenderizing the meat before it can be cooked. Ram Dass masterfully used humor as a means of tenderizing the meat — of preparing us to transform into something new.
The question I'm sitting with now is: how might we tenderize the meat? When we have something important to say to an audience, our team, or our families — how might we emotionally prepare them to receive that transmission? Not to be manipulative, but to set the table.
Is it humor or self-deprecation? Is it getting vulnerable first so others may feel safe being vulnerable? Like dogs wagging their tails when they meet another dog — what signal can I send to make sure the people around me feel safe, so we can do good work together?