Well, some people believe it’s a choice. But they’re the most foolish of all. They seem to have forgotten that they entered the world with a pratfall straight out of the womb. A grand entrance covered in slime to take part in this absurd adventure we call the Game of Life.
So who is the foole? The person who knows she’s a foole? Or the person who denies his foolishness? And why does he deny? Why does he tell others not to be a foole? Why does he fear foolishness so very much?
“If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself,” said Hermann Hesse. Was he a foole? Well, he certainly identified as one with questions like: “Had all that we poor fools bothered our heads about never been anything but a phantom?”
We poor fools. Are we bothering our heads about being foolish? Are we our own phantoms? Is this train of thought running in a circle and threatening to crash into it’s own metaphorical tail? Ouch.
What do we gain by embracing our foolish nature? Full use of our most powerful sense: Humor. We gain clarity about ourselves and our lives. And we gain humility by recognizing that we’re all in this Game together and we’re all pretty darn lousy at playing. We trip. We fall. We say silly things. We fail tests. We fall in love. We get our hearts broken. We think we’re winning and then we’re convinced we lost. We spin. We soar. We fly. We crash. We burn. We bleed. We cry.
And then we laugh. Because we know we are fooles. And we know that we will soon dance. And sing. And play. And love. And ace the next test. And write foolish blob posts.
Has anyone ever told you not to be a foole? What do you think is the best response?