Rich Thinking: On the Edinburgh Fringe, the release of laughing together, being in a state of flow, and bravery.

It’s 11am in Edinburgh and I’m watching an NHS psychiatrist talk about diagnosing ADHD — he’s testing material for his new book. Then comes a heckle from the audience: “That section was a bit long.” Turns out it’s true — plenty of us are finding it hard to keep our attention.

I’m not mocking mental health, and nor was he. I’ve had my own experiences, and plenty of psychiatrists have too. His set reminded us about the absurdities and admin of life, without ever mocking the people living with the conditions he described.

I head to the Fringe every couple of years. The wider Edinburgh Festivals claim to be the world’s biggest arts festival — a giant pop-up that takes over the whole city for a month. I’ve seen brilliant new acts in sweltering August attic rooms, and endured painful hours I’ll never get back in a pokey broom cupboard with four other people.

That’s the joy of the chaos.

Studies show that we enjoy films and theatre differently in a communal setting. Shared laughter triggers stronger emotion. And the jeopardy of walking into a room wondering “Will this be good?” is very different to switching streaming services at home ten minutes in, because it’s not grabbing us.

Touching on the stuff of life in a room together — the things we sometimes don’t talk about — and laughing at our daftness, gives us clarity and perspective.

There’s a kind of flow state to being an audience member, like when you’re fully absorbed in work or hobbies you love. Being present. And it’s rude to look away when someone’s trying to make you laugh.

For performers, The Fringe is structured anarchy. There’s a framework — the one-hour slot, the flyering, the scramble to get people through the door — but almost no rules on content, location, or what makes a hit.

Those rerformances take creativity and bravery.

We’ve all got boundaries, a brief, and a bit of bravery. So how might we share the absurdity of what we’re doing? Try new ways of looking at things, amid our own chaos. Laugh, join in, understand. And then move on to the next gig.

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On mental health, psychiatry and the absurdities of life