If a (wo)man would persist in (her/)his folly, (s)he would become wise. William Blake 
Come to the edge, he said.
We are afraid, they said.
Come to the edge, he said.
And they did, and he pushed them, and they flew. Apollinaire
I have been noticing a pattern in my life lately. To use Jungian terminology, something seems to be “constellating.” As I recall, it started just before April Fools Day when, in reference to writing, a friend quoted Marshall Rosenberg who said, “Anything worth doing is worth doing badly.”
Days later, in conversation with another friend about the writer’s need to risk humiliation (or one might never write or publish anything,) she paraphrased author Simone de Beauvoir who said she would feel ashamed if she was never willing to make a fool of herself. For de Beauvoir, the shame isn’t in making a fool of herself, it is in not being willing to do so.
Though I found these bits of conversation thought provoking, they don’t exactly qualify as a pattern. And I might have forgotten about them if other events hadn’t occurred that seemed related, for example attending a talk in which the presenter spoke of the (holy) foolishness in Zen Buddhism and Christianity.
Fool that I may be, I began to take this topic seriously. And even more foolishly, perhaps, I decided to write about it.
My timing is wrong. April Fools Day is over. I am behind the times. But I keep stumbling across the subject of the fool. I am thinking that maybe he has something to say to me.
I understand the fool as an archetype – a universal pattern – that influences us all. Who hasn’t played the fool? But many of us get down on ourselves, call ourselves names, and kick ourselves (or worse) when we make fools of ourselves over love, money, choices, things we said, being a klutz, or naïve, or making some faux pas. And although we might recognize our own foolishness, most of us try to hide it from others. We aspire to look ‘pulled together,’ professional, successful, perfect, so nobody will ever know our secret.
But the fear of looking like a fool is something that prevents many of us from taking risks and living our potential. The practice of always protecting our vulnerability creates pain because it keeps us alone and locked in a prison of our own making.
Being willing to play the fool is one of the most liberating things we can do. It is also one of the most human. And the fool in us knows how to find our Way in life.
The Fool card* in theTarot deck is universally a young man with an animal companion (often a dog) at his side. The animal represents the individual’s instincts, and the ability to trust them as guides. In some decks the Fool is blindfolded which suggests, even further, the reliance on messages other than just the intellect and physical senses. He travels light with his belongings at the end of his stick. In the Waite deck he is perpetually at the edge of a precipice, always in danger of stepping into the abyss, yet trusting life. He is a wanderer, a pilgrim, a seeker. He knows, not only how to follow his instincts but also his heart (symbolized by the rose he holds.)
In fairy tales it is inevitably the foolish or “dummling” brother who marries the princess or finds the gold. Linda Leonard writes about the “son who appears stupid, bumbling, and incapable in comparison to his older brothers who are handsome, strong, and capable and who deride their younger dummling brother with sarcastic cynicism. Yet in the fairy tale it is the dummling who is able to complete the tasks and not the stronger brothers.”1
And,
“Perhaps his most central quality is his receptivity. He doesn’t need to control. The dummling follows the feather, which when tossed into the air yields to the natural air currents; he is open and receptive to nature and its flow – he is able to wait and not force things. And so he can be open to unknown and new things that appear in his field of vision. That he is not afraid of appearing foolish before the collective eye enables him to act with trust and be receptive to what comes.”2
The fool is in tune with an invisible force that guides him step by step along his journey. Because he is unconcerned about others’ opinions of him, he is able to live his own life on his own terms.
Though most of us resist being fools ourselves, we tend to love the bumbler in fairy tales and in movies. We feel our own tenderness toward one who may be less than brilliant but is kind to the creatures of the world. Our hearts are warmed by the person who is willing to sing joyfully out of tune, who persists in their folly because it’s what they love, the one whose vulnerability is there for all to witness.
Today, in a Gestalt class I was teaching, a student, during her class presentation, read a quotation by Fritz Perls:
“Friend, don’t be a perfectionist.
Perfectionism is a curse and a strain.
For you tremble lest you miss the bulls-eye.
You are perfect if you let be.
Friend don’t be afraid of mistakes.
Mistakes are not sins.
Mistakes are ways of doing something different, perhaps creatively new.
Friend don’t be sorry for your mistakes.
Be glad for them.
You had the courage to give something of yourself.
It takes years to be centered; it takes more years to understand and be NOW.”
Perls recognized that being the fool is healing. It is common in Gestalt therapy, for the therapist to recommend to a client who is afraid of being a fool, to deliberately be one.
The same goes for Albert Ellis, founder of Rational Emotive Therapy. Ellis encouraged people to practice “shame attacking” exercises to counter this fear and inhibition (for some, it is terror.) Examples of ‘attacking shame’ might be wearing shoes in public that don’t match or a jacket that is backward or inside out. For others, singing on the bus might be a fool’s edge. Or dancing or skipping along the sidewalk.
There are two main benefits to this type of practice. Firstly, we realize we have survived it – it didn’t kill us, and secondly, we can practice being supportive to ourselves. If others criticize or make fun of us, we can tell ourselves that it is o.k, we aren’t our shoes or our jacket, and we will still be our own friend. If we can manage that, we are free.
Being willing to be a fool is a great antidote to procrastination as well as writers block and artists block. Welcoming the fool, therefore, can do wonders for our creativity. The fool is key to greater intimacy in relationships, and just generally being open to life. If we open our heart to the fool within us, we are likely to experience greater freedom and enjoyment.
Being willing to be the fool is particularly relevant for those who consider themselves to be contemplatives, or who wish to be, because being a contemplative is a “foolish” path. Ambition, competition, achievement, and other qualities that are rewarded in our culture, may not be experienced much by the contemplative. There are rarely financial benefits to being a contemplative and there is little, if any, glory – for our external self, at least. It is a counter-culture lifestyle, not because contemplatives are deliberately rebellious, but because they are not aiming at meeting the expectation of the world. It is an authentic way of being; a way for many to be most true to themselves and at one with life. The rewards are internal, not external.
As the Blake quotation above suggests, being foolish is the way toward wisdom. Process Worker, Amy Mindell writes about the wise one, “Appearing stupid, he goes about like one who has lost his way.”** Mindell adds, “Of course, the sage is not stupid at all. She or he knows that nature will show itself when it is ready.”3 In the East, ‘beginner’s mind’ is the mind of the adept.
Is there some action you would take if it wasn’t so foolhardy? Is there something you wish to say but you are afraid to sound foolish? Is there a longing in your heart you have said no to because you are afraid to look like a fool?
I encourage you to go ahead. Be a fool and know that you will be in the fine company of all those who have had the “courage to give something” of themselves; all those who have taken the risk of stepping over the edge, only to discover they can fly.
* * * * *
* The Fool is one of the Major Arcana cards in the Tarot. They represent archetypes.
** Mindell is quoting Allan Watts.
1 Leonard, L. (1982) The Wounded Woman: Healing the Father-Daughter Relationship. Boulder: Shambhala, p. 105
2 Ibid., p. 107
3. Mindell, A. (1995) Metaskills: The Spiritual Art of Therapy. Tempe, Arizona: New Falcon Publications, p. 112