Be "ridiculous on purpose" | Angelina Blasich | TEDxProvincetown

In this high-energy and creative talk, Angelina Blasich, a tutu-wearing, licensed mental health professional and co-founder of community engagement group Purposefully Ridiculous, explains the improved clinical and health outcomes from affording ourselves the freedom to "don our permissions" and be ridiculous on purpose. Ridiculate your life! www.purposefullyridiculous.com
#mentalhealth #sharetheshine #tutu #ridiculousonpurpose #ridiculation #communitywellness #angelinablasich #ridiculateyourllife #donyourpermissions #TEDxPtown #TEDxProvincetown #CapeCod #Provincetown

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at https://www.ted.com/tedx

So, for me,

this all started with Jack.

Jack is a 60-something
backwoodsy, hard-working guy,

about 5-foot and spare change,
with a long beard

and a luster of salt-and-pepper hair.

Jack's always been a hoot, and he'd

give you the shirt off his back
before he'd see you shiver.

And, Jack had a favor to ask.

You see, his sister-in-law
and dearest friend, Janet,

was dying of cancer.

She only had a few days left,
and life was feeling so terribly heavy.

Jack wanted to offer this lifelong dancer
an infusion of joy in her last moments.

So, he determined the answer...
was clearly a hospice tutu...

Stat!

(Laughter)

Now, it just so happened
that a co-worker of mine

had recently cleaned out
her mother's old bridal shop

and spontaneously gifted me
with this 40-yard spool of purple tulle.

Because…. I don't sew.

I don't know. No reason.

And now?

Whoa. Reason.

In one night, I made Jack the most
unruly purple tutu I could muster.

It was a magical monstrosity.

Isn't he a vision?

(Laughter) (Applause)

Janet died.

She died before Jack was able
to complete his ridiculous mission.

After her funeral, he returned
this tutu of absurd proportion

with a "Wear it for Janet."

Beautiful people, I didn't
have the words for it yet,

but, Jack was asking me
to “Ridiculate.”

To ridiculate:

“To purposefully participate in communal
acts of shared joy and silliness,

instead of dismissing them
as being utterly ridiculous.”

I was being invited to step
into my courage

and participate in some serious silliness.

Jack was asking me to bring lightness
where life was heavy.

Beautiful people,

life can feel so very heavy
so much of the time, right?

Even when we have beautiful places to go

and wonderful people to love
and things to look forward to,

it can feel almost impossible
to drag ourselves through one more day.

Sometimes, the only thing
that makes a difference

is when we're gifted with even
the briefest moment of joy and levity,

and, we choose to celebrate it.

Those moments
become even more profound

when we share them.

So, let's get back to stories
of tutus, Jacks and Janets.

It was about three weeks
after Jack's Janet died

when my own dear friend,
also named Janet,

went into the hospital
for a fairly routine surgery.

There were complications,
and her heart stopped.

She was resuscitated
and had a long road ahead.

Now, my Janet loves purple.

She loves purple like only people
who love purple love purple.

And here I had this magnificent
monstrosity of a purple tutu.

Oh my God! "Wear it for Janet."

Negative body image be damned -

I donned the purple tutu
and I took off to the hospital.

I "ridiculated." Right?

(Applause) (Cheering)

I stepped away from the "Hell no!"
autopilot of ridicule

and stepped into some serious
purposefully ridiculous engagement.

I afforded myself space to ridiculate.

I was profoundly moved
and set my life on a new path that day.

The act of wearing
this gargantuan tutu in public

also afforded other people
permission to engage.

Instead of just visiting a friend,
I was ridiculating the hospital.

(Laughter)

Patients and their families
waved and giggled.

(Laughter)

This nurse, at the end
of her 16-hour shift,

said I should come back
at this time every day.

(Laughter)

And Janet said it was the best medicine
she'd had in a long time.

(Applause)

We joked about how
this should be my job, right?

Putting on a tutu
and traipsing through hospitals

to share joy and promote healing.

Yeah, and then we laughed
because that would be ridiculous!

Tutus are for festivals
and football games, right?

Except what I discovered was that
every time I don this ridiculous garment,

I afford myself permission

to be the fullest, boldest,
most glorious expression of me.

(Applause) (Cheering)

I stopped just putting on a tutu
and I started to "don my permissions".

Permission to embrace my fears,
to experience freedom in my body,

to dance with my sorrow
and live my courage.

I started to offer myself,
and everyone I meet,

permission to be silly and gleeful,
out loud and on purpose.

These tufts of tulle started out
as a silly support for my own self-care.

But what I've come to understand

is the significant impact
on community mental wellness.

Now, while I stand here
before you today

as a tutu-wearing, hospital-traipsing
ambassador of the “Divine Absurd”…

I'm also a mental health professional.

(Applause) (Cheering)

This is what happens.

(Laughter)

I operate a highly successful
medical program

and I teach for the master
of Social Work School in the university.

Beautiful people, I'm here to tell you:
the science supports the silly.

(Cheering) (Applause)

Research suggests
that the integration of play,

creative expression, movement,
mindfulness and mutual aid

all constitute as "best practice"

in education, practical medicine,
and mental health.

It’s widely documented that laughter
boosts the immune system,

improves circulation
and promotes actual physical healing.

I mean, hospitals
will employ clown doctors

as integral members
of their treatment teams.

Mental health professionals
rely on creative means

to further stalled progress.

And they encourage
the use of mutual aids

for peer support and accountability.

So, let's take this out
of the medical setting.

Most of us don't need a diagnosis
to know that we're stressed out

and, honestly, sometimes
a little bit snippy.

(Laughter) (Silently: “A little bit”)

When we afford for
purposefully ridiculous connection,

we're offering opportunity
to engage all of these

best clinical practice
in our actual lived experience.

We build community offering
each other shared permissions.

We create networks of active support.
We offer space for creative expression

and we break down barriers
of communication.

These public access interventions
create connections

to actual therapeutic goals
and clinical outcomes.

Decreased isolation,
increased movement and motivation

and a host of other supports for self-care

and community mental wellness.

So, I took them back to work.

I started bringing bags of tutus
to my medical program

to hospice retreats,
to community mental health events

and recognition ceremonies.

Along with my partner in ridiculous,
we identified “ridiculation”

as a "tangible act
of joy-filled mindfulness."

(Applause)

We started to ridculate public spaces...
creating pop-up freedom festivals

and community process art.

We'd swoop in all
danceable tunes and tutus

asking people to stop what they're doing.

“Don your permissions, put on a tutu
and dance with us.”

Right now. On purpose.

People of every demographic of age,
race, ability, income described feeling

“safe in their skin”, “liberated”,
“powerful” and “beautiful.”

(Applause)

They said they didn't know why
but this was just what they needed.

They laughed. They danced.
And, they cried.

So many of them cried,
while they danced

in tutus, at the mall.

(Laughter)

In the past three and a half years,

over 3,000 people have halted
their day at work, on the street,

in grocery stores, bars,
nursing homes, and ERs...

to stop what they were doing,
dance, dress up, play

and be purposefully ridiculous.

Let's be clear, beautiful people.
I'm not on a tutu mission.

I really don't care what you wear.
If you don't want to wear a tutu

that's great with me.

I don't care what you wear.

I'm here to ask you
to ridculate your life.

Caw back at the morning crow.

Play peek-a-boo with that toddler
in the long line at the grocery store.

Sing a soothing song to your mom
when she forgets your name.

Make that whisk your microphone

and give her an encore for good measure.

Those sometimes silly,
sometimes tender moments

are small and often over
as quickly as they've started.

Sometimes, they're easy to dismiss
as being ridiculous and unimportant.

I'd like to challenge that dismissal today

and offer that these are
the moments to celebrate

and create in earnest.

Consciously seek out moments
of connection and wonder

and celebrate them on purpose.

This is the “What” we get to live for.

Beautiful people, tutus or not,
it's time to be responsible

for your own ridiculous.

It's nobody else's job
to make you happy.

It's not your kid's job
to lighten your mood

or your partner's job
to motivate your growth.

You are the only one that can choose
to make any given moment

joy-filled and remarkable.

I implore you to recognize, celebrate
and share that choice.

Extol that which is delightful,
enormous and kind.

Find every joy seeker you can
and create a network of nurture.

Hold ridiculously safe space
for each other.

And, lastly beautiful people... move.

(Laughter)

When we're most frozen in fear,
pain, sadness and anxiety

it can feel impossible to move.

Behold this opportunity to know courage

and move through what you are feeling.

If you get stuck, wiggle something.

(Laughter)

Just a little.

Don't hurt yourself...

even if you think it looks ridiculous.

Remember, beautiful darlings...

courage looks gorgeous in a tutu.

Don your permissions and dance.

(Applause)