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Silliness Helps Bring Balance

If you've been with us for the last few weeks, you're beginning to see what we feel about silliness. If you haven't been checking in on us, however, here's what you've missed:





Don't worry, we'll wait while you catch up on all that reading.

...

Good, I'm glad you're back! We're just giving another answer:

Fourthly, silliness is important because it helps bring balance.

I hope you know we're being earnest, if not completely serious. That last sentence made me smile, and I needed it at the moment. You see, even though all this writing and posting amounts to little, there's a feeling that begins at the back of my mind when I think I'm doing something good, especially when I'm glad about my writing. It's small at first, maybe unnoticeable. Quickly, however, it expands like a boil on the neck expands -- and yes, it's just as disgusting. Self Importance. That's what it is.

So the smile was necessary because it reminded me what a joke is capable of doing. In the face of Self Importance, a joke sticks its tongue out to reach the tip of the nose. Or, when presented with Pouting, a joke may become a human blanket. A joke may even take the form of a ridiculous pair of crossed eyes when dealing with an Argument About Nothing Except Who's Right. A joke is a reminder, perhaps even a corrector.

Speaking of Capital Letters, have you read any Winnie-the-Pooh? Our good friend Pooh, who only has fluff for brains, is quick to point out his own failures and write silly poetry. He knows his shortcomings, he loves honey, and he comforts his friends. He is a bear we'd like to sit with because he's stuffed -- and he knows he's stuffed.

Christopher Robin mutters the words, "Silly old bear" when Pooh's lack of brains is especially adorable. It's then Pooh has to admit that maybe he forgot or misunderstood Something Important.

I suppose the gist is that we'd do well to remember we may not be full of fluff, but we are dust. Animated Dust Creatures. Self Importance, Pouting, Argument About Nothing? Well, I guess they've gone, haven't they? And that's refreshing because we're just about to have tea, and those Bothers don't like tea. Or honey. Or Humming an Eating Song.

The joke really is on us, and allowing ourselves to laugh at ourselves in the face of who we really are -- what we're made of -- can center us. What's required is a removal of pride, and the best way for that, I've found, is a little silliness.

Yes, of course, responsibilities do hang around, and even Christopher Robin would agree that we have Important Things to do sometimes. Lots of times. Okay, all the time. But that makes a laugh, a joke, a crooked smile all the more necessary. Those chores don't go away, but just for a moment will you listen to this rhyme I made up? Or will you set your phone down and blow up this balloon? Tell me the one about the talking dog -- will you?

For a moment sit with us and know that you are dust -- we are dust -- and it's such fun to be together. Maybe you'll find all those responsibilities are a bit lighter when you go back to them. Their true weight isn't all that hefty after a laugh.

Comments

  1. I really like this and it reminds me of a story I once listened to about the human condition on how happiness is a sign of wellness.

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