Mine is a brain that latches, snares and drags through things as if I’m merely along for the ride. The only thing to do is make the best of it. Lately, post-election, it’s thinking of fools. There are fools that don’t know they are fools, hence the suffering with them, then there are the wise fools. Wiser-than-me fools.
The word “fool” is a trickster of a thing, a noun, a verb and an adjective, as well as a homonym ripe with metaphors. Etymologically speaking, the word “fool” comes from the Latin “follis,” meaning bellows or windbag, colloquially full of hot air. As human humor goes, windbags can be the court jester feigning lunacy or the fool sage whose sayings are so simple they are wise.
He’s not for everyone, but my favorite fool is Diogenes. Yes, the Greek street performer philosopher with the lantern in daytime, acting out his search for an honest man, a single authentic human being. And he acted out his judgment on those he saw as suck-ups or sellouts.
The scene: Diogenes is a penniless beggar laying in the sunshine when Alexander the Great, the most powerful man in the world, stops and offers Diogenes a place in his court, gold, a mansion, etc. Diogenes simply grumbles, “stand out of my light.” Diogenes sees Alexander’s offer as transactions of transient favors and refuses him, favoring his freedom and autonomy above all else. It is reported that Alexander later said, “Had I not been Alexander, I should have liked to be Diogenes.”
Another time, Plato (another big wig of the day) saw Diogenes washing lettuces and said, “Had you paid court to Dionysius, you wouldn’t have to wash lettuces.” With equal calmness, Diogenes answered, “If you washed lettuces, you wouldn’t have to pay court to Dionysius.” Plato inspired Diogenes further. When Plato defined man as an animal, biped and featherless, Diogenes plucked a bird and brought it into the lecture room with the words, “Here is Plato’s man.” Hilarious.
The archetypal fool, the Jungian fool that dances through experiences, gaining through failures becomes the sage or savior. The Shakespearian fool shows the successful fool’s secret: that he is no fool at all. The Idiot of Dostoevsky’s portrait is a wise fool, a person able to see their own weaknesses and access an exquisite authenticity rarely acknowledged or valued in our culture. Not knowing allows us to ask questions, to ask, “why?” and that is nothing short of a gift for my human brain.
My Buddhist friends tell me this fool archetype demonstrates a valued state of detachment, to be beginner-minded curious but also detached. Christians tell me to be as a sparrow, as a child. To be completely honest here — and why not be honest because in the end there’s no fooling myself? — I want the world to grow up a bit. It would be refreshing, exquisitely so, to be with people who speak with responsibility, people who act with thoughts to consequences, people more attracted to solutions than to grievances.
There is a Turkish proverb that says, “When a clown moves into the palace, he doesn’t become a king. The palace becomes a circus.” The dark side of foolishness leads to despair. Neurologist Oliver Sacks believed that human beings make meaning for ourselves, for our lives, out of our despair. We do it like an action, a verb, maybe unconsciously, like digestion. Lately I’m feeling a little indigestion. There is nothing to do but burp and breathe.
Historically, people turn to religion, to supernatural begging in times of despair. Church membership grows when people are suffering. But I don’t want to trauma bond with people. My conspiratorial mind threatens long-term acid reflux. Is this the reason we keep people poor, sick and weak-minded? To feed a religious industrial complex? Because we can fix things. And taking advantage of desperation is truly unconscionable.
I exhale a physical sigh. Today, my despair go-to is Austrian neurologist, psychologist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl, who reminds me, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” The ability to adapt is an evolutionary superpower and I’m a human chameleon. It’s going to be OK. All of this external upheaval is another opportunity to confront my real fear, and I might as well come clean. Of all the waiting terrors, my own impermanence is what I fear most. But impermanent I am. And so is the rest of it. All of it. Every wise fool knows as much.
I may be a fool, but I am happily detached from today’s Alexander, today’s clown in the palace. Is there favor from a clown in love with himself? He’ll always be standing out of my light because my light is mine. Like Diogenes, I don’t require, nor do I accept validation from shadow makers. These are the words of a woman with a lantern looking for other lanterns.
Marugg is a Secular Humanist with a lantern looking for honest, authentic grown-ups with lanterns of ideas, solutions and wisdom. She can be reached by email: janetmarugg7@gmail.com.
