Finding wisdom in foolishness
Commentary by Janet Marugg | FāVS News
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 been thinking of fools. There are fools that don’t know they are fools, hence suffering them. Then, there are the wise fools. Wiser than me, these 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.
Diogenes’ search for honest man
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.
Types of fools
What does it mean to know so much about fools? 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 as part of our human experience.
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 instead of the folly of a fool.
A clown makes the palace his circus
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.” This reminds me of people who know just enough to be dangerous, the Dunning Krueger effect, the dark side of foolishness is always 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 acid reflux. I exhale a physical sigh. Today’s despair go-to, is Viktor Frankl who reminds me, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” I’m a chameleon.
It’s time to confront my 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. And I am happily detached from today’s Alexander, today’s clown in the palace. Who wants to hang out with a one-act clown pimping recreational cruelty, anyway? 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 shadowy fools.
These are the words of a woman, alone and impermanent, with a lantern looking for other lanterns.
The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. FāVS News values diverse perspectives and thoughtful analysis on matters of faith and spirituality.
