That’s definitely the feeling here for me today. Confused, foggy, not my usual focussed self. Well, to be fair, I’m utterly focused on one thing (care for another during crisis), which leaves little room for my own mind, brain, thoughts and feelings, here in this space of writing. So, let’s just see what there is in here, shall we?
Discombobulated as a word is meant to be a ‘fun, fancy’ way of saying confused. Is it fun? Can we look to find the fun in it? I’d say a definite yes. Ultimately this human drive to be effective, efficient, good at stuff, achieve things, can all get really rather dull and even foolhardy… could we say for just a moment?
How about letting loose, cut loose, be a little more free and silly once in a while.
So perhaps I’ll take a moment to step outside, into the fresh air, and dance a silly jig or sing a silly song. I suspect that might make as much sense and do me as much good as pretty much anything else right now, in this moment.
Irreverent, that was a word someone else used. How about being just a little irreverent towards the entire socialised process of being human, growing, learning, doing. It’s all just so terribly serious!
How about we just remember what it is to have the freedom of a child, to run, leap, laugh liberally, including at ourselves when we trip and fall flat on our faces. To pull faces, to blow raspberries, to stop ‘adulting’ and remember how flippant and ridiculous we can really be.
How about remembering that at some point each day we all of us end up squatting on a porcelain bowl, pants, skirts, trousers, knickers around our ankles, knees splayed, feet akimbo, doing what animals do every moment on the earth but in a nice, neat, washaway device we created to make it a more palatable, more discreet and serious business?
How about remembering what we actually look like when we first roll over from sleep? How our wonderfully bleary eyes squint and widen, rub and squish, to ‘make them work’. How our hair (or lack thereof) looks first thing, glorious mayhem or perhaps a bit of odd shadowy stubble. How we stumble like Bambi to the bathroom to begin that ridiculous ritual of, preparing ourselves to be fit for consumption, presentable, acceptable… to whom? Lovers, family, colleagues… zoom?
How about the last time we did something so ludicrous we laughed aloud at ourselves? Put your toast in the fridge instead of the butter, took the wrong car keys out with us, put our underwear on inside out? Human, being. So busy being a human doing, we forget.
Have you ever stopped and realised just how completely silly we look when we get het up over something? Some little thing that for no apparent reason ‘presses a button’ and ‘gets us worked up’. Perhaps it’s only afterwards we stop and bashfully realise how daft we look when we rant, red faced and apoplectic about who did this or that. Perhaps it’s only when we see someone else doing it, really see how it looks from the outside, we stop, chortle at ourselves for our ridiculous nature and the bizarre socialisation that inspires such acts of human buffoonery.
What really matters?
Is it the way we look, present ourselves to the world? Is it that nobody sees the silly moments where we’re actually just animals, in bed, or on the loo? Is it the momentary flights of feelings we have that in hindsight just look fairly ridiculous?
Or could it be fun, irreverence, silliness for its own sake.
Let’s all be children again once in a while, set yourself free, cut loose from the shackles of what ‘should be’ and how ‘we just must’… and just BE, instead. Laugh, dance, pull a really good silly face, do something for no other reason than that it feels good and makes us smile.
How about that, for one, somewhat simpler meaning of life?