Last night, when my husband thought it was wise to send me out of the house for some “me time”, I headed to my favourite bookstore to buy more smart books. As you can tell, I love smart books. I have bookshelves full of them, and a night stand nearly caving under the weight of them.
I had a gift certificate, so I could buy them guilt free.
I wandered through my current sections-of-choice – leadership, women’s studies, spirituality, writing, and inspiration – grabbed a handful of possibilities, and found a comfy chair to get lost in.
After flipping through a few of the books, I felt something familiar creep into my gut. A heaviness. A tight ball that was being wound even tighter by the seriousness of the books I was looking through.
“Ugh.” I thought. “I don’t want to read one more serious or smart book. I don’t want any of these.”
And in that chair, with my arms full of books, I started to weep. I wept because I suddenly realized that I no longer know how to find books that will bring me joy. I only know how to find books that will make me smarter, bring me closer to self-realization, or challenge me to serve the world with greater justice.
WHEN DID I BECOME SO DAMN SERIOUS?!?
It’s not just books. I listen to smart music too – music written by “social-justice-minded” or “plunging-the-depths-of-your-soul” folk artists.
And (I’m embarrassed to admit) when I buy jewelry, I find myself looking for some kind of spiritual meaning behind the symbols I wear, rather than just buying something for pure love.
I’ve even noticed it in my art journal. Instead of simply having fun with paint, I’m trying to inject meaning into every single page.
This is serious people. I think I have a disease. And I might very well be the last to notice it.
My dear friend Michele recently filled out a questionnaire about me (that I had requested) and she said some beautiful things that made me weep. What made me weep the most, though, was this: “While I admire your persistence and the vigour with which you approach your work, sometimes even your ‘play’ seems like work to me.”
Gulp. She’s right. I have forgotten how to play just for the fun of play.
I ask again… WHEN DID I BECOME SO DAMN SERIOUS?!
Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that this past year has been punctuated with serious things like a suicide attempt, breast reduction surgery, and the transition from employment to self-employment. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I’ve spent the past six and a half years writing primarily about social justice issues and visiting some of the most devastatingly poor areas of the world. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I’ve decided to build my career on the issue of wisdom and I feel like I need to be wiser than I am to do it.
SOMETHING’S GOTTA GIVE! I have GOT to bring back my sense of play. It’s time for a shift, people. No, I’m not going to become a comedian overnight, or abandon my passion for wisdom, but I AM going to inject a little more fun into my life.
I started last night at the bookstore. I knew I couldn’t even trust myself to buy a novel (I’d probably end up with a tear-jerker set in war-torn Afghanistan), so I headed to the gift shelves, bound and determined that I would buy the silliest, most impractical, “make-me-smile” things I could find on the shelf.
And that’s why I now drink tea out of an elephant’s trunk and wear mis-matched socks on my feet. It’s time for a little FUN!
Because really, when it comes right down to it, what good is all of this wisdom if we don’t know how to laugh?
I hereby declare December the “Month of Silliness”. I am adjusting my mental image of Sophia – this month she’s got a big stupid grin on her face and she keeps bursting out in random giggles. When I put my head on her chest, I can feel the vibrations from her deep-body giggle.
PLEASE send me recommendations for books, movies, activities, WHATEVER, that are guaranteed to tickle my funny-bone and bring back my sense of ha-ha.
AND… does anyone want to knit me a tea-cozy? My elephant needs a colourful coat! 😉
Ahhh…this is too familiar. I live with a Very Fun Animal, who lives with, as she would say, a Very Serious Animal…me. 🙂
For example, before 10 AM yesterday, I was talking about transubstantiation versus consubstantiation. Now, these things are very very important to me and my seriousness has lots of good things about it — as does yours.
But, yes, BALANCE.
When I teach yoga, dance, and movement, the weirdest thing I have learned about myself, is how FUNNY and FUN I am.
Marcy says when I am teaching movement that THAT is the TRUE ME. So many other people have said this that I have started to wonder.
Where did this Serious Animal come from? She is definitely my protective shell.
Okay…just writing off the top of my head there and see how your post made me think this through?
She IS a protective shell. I am afraid of not being seen as SMART. I am afraid that people will see me as silly.
NO MORE!
I WANT TO BE SILLY!
SILLY!
🙂
Hmmm…now to make a plan. (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA…)
Oh Christine – that’s exactly it! I have built my image around being SMART. It’s what’s gotten me jobs, gotten me published, and it’s just the way I want the world to view me.
I remember once when I had one of my plays produced on stage and people kept laughing and telling me how funny it was. I was completely shocked, because I hadn’t thought of it as being funny at ALL when I wrote it. Weird.
DAMN IT… it’s time for change! Let’s kick this seriousness habit together!
Them socks, they are amazing.
Thanks Michele. I think I’m in love. Too bad they cost $18 or I’d buy a dozen of them.
LOVE your elephant tea mug, and yes, he needs a coat! 😉 hugs!!
Thanks Melita! I’ve already been on Etsy trying to find him a coat, but mostly I’ve found rather ugly tea cozies.
Much is stirred in me with this and your posting on Marcel’s suicide attempt. Love the way in which you share the intensity of your experience and your life. Love knowing more about who you are as you help me express more of who I am in my writing.
A few years ago I had the realization that I wasn’t having fun in my life anymore, there was no joy. It had somehow gradually seeped out of my being and my experience and I barely noticed it had disappeared – years before. And I knew in that realization, I wanted it back. Life is too short, no matter what we go through, to live without playfulness and joy. It is part of the wholeness of who we are. It is part of our vulnerability and, along with the sharing of what could have been unmentionables and are to many people, it is part of what makes us strong, powerful and accessible. Becoming conscious and intentional about it was part of what brought it back for me. Three months after I began the journey back to joy, I was at a conference and someone I did not know came over to me and said, “I just have to tell you, you radiate joy.” Radiate joy! Wow. How cool was that. A few months later, a similar comment from someone I had just met. A few years later, I experience joy almost every day – and you know a lot of my story so you know it is routed in deep journey. When I’m not feeling joyful, I know there is an inquiry for me to be in.
There were a couple of rules that helped me out along the way, that I needed to be reminded of from time to time. You may already know them but I offer them out just in case:
Rule 6a and b:
Rule 6a: Don’t take yourself so f….g seriously!
Rule 6b: Don’t take other people so f…g seriously!
On reading material, my bookshelves look a lot like yours. When I do venture off to something else, it’s usually Arthurian legend. I’ve read most of it and like the various takes on that time. Not that funny though.
Thank you for you, for the work you do in the world, the joy you bring others and for sharing the adventure of your journey so openly and honestly with us. Big hugs and much love, Kathy
Thanks Kathy! I think I need to tattoo your rules on my forearm!
And after my Month of Silliness, hopefully someone tells me I “radiate joy” too!
Hi Heather, that’s it, you’re coming to visit my horse. He will make you smile and laugh, and you will remember joy.
Too bad it’s not summer. I’d let you watch me wear my dad’s farmer coveralls, oversized rubber boots, while I perform Flashdance moves in the water trough (sometimes have to soak the hay).
Now go get yourself a copy of my favourite dumb movies – School of Rock (I challenge you not to sing along) and Nacho Libre do it for me.
I suffer from the smart affliction too – and it’s only been the last year or so that I have been starting to give it up! She’s only a part of you – balancing her out will be so much fun.
Ah yes, Sherri, some time with Spirit would definitely be healing for me. And watching you perform Flashdance moves in the water trough? PRICELESS!
Can I suggest a dose of “Kung Fu Panda”? Seriously fun.
And I should have added…. I’d like to also suggest a clown course. Not a balloon animal, big shoe, fright wig kind of clown. But a playing clown, a silly clown, a heart clown, a clown who finds mistakes and finds it the best thing in the world… check out http://www.nosetonose.info to get a better idea of what I’m talking about. Serious fun, serious play.
Deb – you almost made me cry! I actually used to DO some clowning, back when I was studying theatre. I hadn’t even though of going back to that, but now you’ve made me think.
I loved this! I highly recommend “How did you get this number”, a collection of essays by Sloane Crosley. She has been dubbed the female Sedaris, and not unfairly so. Her first collection of essays, “I was told there would be cake”, was fantastic as well. Enjoy your moments of silliness… we all need those!
Oh yes! I have to check that out! I’ve read “I was told there’d be cake” and thoroughly enjoyed it.
Love this idea, Heather. My best friend Chris Utterback and I used to find out silliness whenever we were together. I once visited her and she presented me with a tiara, that matched her own, which we wore while browsing in small shops in her Connecticut neighborhood.
I also recommend that you visit my friend Karyn Ruth White’s website which is http://karynruthwhite.com. You might treat yourself to her hilarious Kiss My Botox CD. She’s wonderfully silly all the time.
Thanks Barbara. I have a friend visiting from out of town next week, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s male and might not appreciate the tiara, I might take you up your suggestion. He’s always game for silly adventures, so I’ll definitely be looking for a tiara-alternative.
And I’ll check out Karyn’s website.
The pendulum is swinging back and will eventually come to rest.
Yes, you’re right. It’s not like I’ve NEVER been silly, it’s just that it’s been on hiatus for awhile. 🙂
Hi Heather! I always come away with something when I visit here. Thanks for your site and this post. I’m SO with you.
Two things that always get me out of too-serious mode are:
1) Motown music
2) Bollywood movies (the older, campy ones where a whole town might bust out in a huge, choreographed dance number at any moment).
Works for me every time, especially if I sing/dance along.
Thanks Rupa! OOOOooo… Bollywood movies! What a good idea! I haven’t watched one since I was in India, but they make me giggle every time.