by Orrel Lanter
Berkowitz began teaching juggling as a way to alleviate stress two years ago after finding that the high tensions of the emergency room were becoming detrimental to his own peace of mind.
Juggling doctors (1-r) Simonton, Allen and Berkowitz (Michael Taradash photo)
For three days medical professionals from around the globe are here to challenge the mores of traditional medical treatment in managing and preventing disease. They are learning how to de-stress their own lives with humor. Simonton began on a very serious note, speaking of his own speciality - the importance of imagery in the treatment of cancer. "Studies implemented in the past five years are finding how strongly emotions influence health," he said. It was the remarkable recovery of former Saturday Review editor Norman Cousins that sparked renewed interest in the medical community in the emotional side of health. Cousins wrote "Anatomy of an Illness" in 1979 to chronicle his use of laughter as a weapon in overcoming a terminal illness.
Simonton began research with cancer patients in his Pacific Palisades, Calif., clinic. He directs patients to shift their focus in order to loosen the tenacious grip of pain and fear that cancer creates. "Laughter and play break up hopelessness," Simonton declares. Learning to juggle was a personal insight for him as well. "I spent 35 years learning that I couldn't juggle," he recalls. "Only to have a pediatrician friend teach me in 15 minutes one day that I could." He then told the thousand people in the audience that it was time they, too, learned to juggle. He innocently passed out marshmallows and asked people to toss them up and catch them. Self-consciously at first, they began throwing the white puffs gingerly from hand to hand. As they gained confidence and relaxed, the horseplay began. Someone was hit with a maliciously tossed marshmallow. Someone laughed at that. Retaliation ensued and quickly escalated. The room looked like the inside of a popcorn popper, with marshmallows launched from every corner. Simonton on the stage was an obvious and frequent target. For 20 minutes it was "Animal House." When calm finally returned, Simonton closed his lumpy umbrella and said, "Occasionally our inner voice of health takes a bizarre turn. This amazing display is an excellent example!'
Besides workshops, the conference hires clowns, mimes and face painters to create an atmosphere of playfulness that invites people to unwind. One such entertainer was Dr. Barry Berkowitz, a former Berkeley, Calif., emergency room physician, who roamed the conference wearing a white lab coat and juggling a hypodermic syringe, bed pan and stethoscope. All the while he tossed out one-liners from routines he uses in his anti-stress seminar called "Juggling is Good Medicine." Berkowitz began teaching juggling as a way to alleviate stress two years ago after finding that the high tensions of the emergency room were becoming detrimental to his own peace of mind. "Juggling is a metaphor for letting go of the weight of problems we place upon ourselves," Berkowitz says. "I developed a juggling workshop for medical professionals and corporations aimed at reducing those tensions." People crowded around him while Berkowitz continued his "Incredible Medical Juggle. "As a doctor and a juggler I'm always battling against inevitable forces - death and gravity," he said, flashing a grin. "Only now, if I make a mistake you can boo me, but you can't sue me!" The audience groaned good-naturedly, obviously delighted to be getting personal instruction from the affable Berkowitz.
Dr. Steve Allen Jr. instructed under the seminar title "He Who Laughs Last, Lasts." It was packed. Son of entertainers Steve Allen and Jayne Meadows, he maintains a family practice in upstate New York. He began his talk with a brain-twister. He said, "Never underestimate the unimportance of everything." With that he passed out scarves to 500 people and proceeded to instruct them in "Health Through Creative Silliness." His "guilt-free drop" quickly became a crowd pleaser. Scarves floated lazily around the room with frantic hands plucking at them. Occasionally it accidentally developed into a two-person run-around. But to Allen's absolute un-surprise, all did learn how to juggle... after a fashion. But the instant benefit was the fun most people had in turning the kid inside them loose again. "My goal is not necessarily to teach people how to juggle, but to get them feeling playful and laughing," he said. "I try to do two things. One is to lay the intellectual and emotional groundwork for humor, which really does have positive biological benefits. The second is just to let people know they can be playful and should seek it out each day." Simonton and Allen are speakers at each of the institute's seminars. At the next one, scheduled for March 17-20 in Anaheim, Calif., Allen will appear with his father (who is not a juggler) to make a presentation on "Entertaining Healers and Healing Entertainers."
The younger Allen said stress reduction seminars have become a larger and larger part of his professional life since he learned to juggle from the Klutz book in 1982. He now does 30-40 seminars a year, including the two with Simonton at The Power of Life and Play conferences. "I was asked to speak on employee health at Cornell shortly after that," he said. "I figured people would learn better if they had a good time, so I took alone 300 tennis balls. It turned out to be the best thing I did there. "Then I met Dave Finnigan at the IJA Purchase convention and he asked me if I had tried using scarves instead of tennis balls. I came back with about 100 dozen and have done programs now for 75,000 people!" The three bearded doctors, together, looking a bit like the Smith Brothers of old cough drop fame, did much to enhance the lighthearted mood of the weekend. Participants agreed that if this was the beginning of the decline of somberness in medicine... it showed exceptional promise!