Encounter with The Fool

Last week, somebody named “Robert” left a nondescript message (”Hello Jen, this is Robert, please give me a call…”) on my answering machine. I didn’t recognize the voice, and he didn’t say why he was calling, but I know a few R|Bobs, so I returned the call - and got his answering machine, and left a message, coda.

Yesterday, I finally got Robert on the phone.

“Hi, this is Jen - I’m returning your call.”

Silence.


image courtesy of clarita on morguefile

“Do I know you?” he said.

“I don’t know. You called me,” I said.

“Oh. What was I calling about?”

“I don’t know.”

“It must have been about clowning - or maybe about illustrations. Do either of those things ring a bell? I’ve probably got it written down here somewhere, but I’m terribly forgetful, and my desk is a mess, and I’m just getting ready to leave for Port Hardy to give a performance. Then I’ve got to go some other places on the Island, but I don’t remember where.”

“Uh, performance?” I said.

“I’m a clown. Are you a clown?”

“No, I’m a technical writer. I write software manuals.”

Looking back, I suspect that this was one of those proverbial moments freighted with the weight of an encounter with an archetype. The Fool is important: every society - religious, monarchical, 21st-century-urban-whatever - needs The Fool. The Fool asks the ridiculous questions that cause discomfort among the powerful. The Fool is not satirical - he’s crazy stupid, and wonders why the Emporor is naked - what’s up with that? The Fool is a proxy for the wisdom of innocence, protected by the guise (or reality) of insanity.

“Oh. I don’t really know anything about computers. I’m Max the Clown. Do you need a clown? Is that why you were calling?”

Sometimes I think The Gods (aka The Archetypes) fish for humans, dangling bait and shiny things in those dark pools where we lurk.

“I didn’t call you - you called me. ”

“Oh. Well, if I remember why I called, I’ll call you back and let you know.”

“Okay. Have a good trip.”

D.H. Lawrence and the snake at the watering trough:

“And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords
Of life.
And I have something to expiate;
A pettiness.”



Leave a Reply

CAPTCHA image