Lessons From The Arcana: The Fool

The magic lies in the fact that you’re not supposed to know what’s next and begin, regardless.

The Fool

Listen.
There is a quiet murmuring
a hum, a tender tug that beckons me
There is no battle between
my head and heart,
for this, I trust the unknowing.
And my gut is like a dog
nipping at the heels of uncertainty
I bid farewell to mindless routine,
     the beast, the casualty.

The sun tells me
it's only the beginning,
and faith is ever blind,
as it should be.

se.

---

This is how the journey is supposed to begin.

You’re supposed to feel like you want to hurl your guts out to the ground, and all this nervous, erratic feeling inside you would just become earth-coloured mush expelled out of your body. You’re supposed to feel silly. Stupid, even. Why would you want to risk everything at this very moment? What is a reward or winning in the beginning? Again, it’s supposed to not delight the intellect. It’s supposed to feel like a wild dog, ravenously residing in the pit of your stomach—the more you deny its existence, the more it festers in its hunger, and your desire to hide from the truth fails to make you stay any longer.

Precisely, the fool does not linger.

He is a dreamer, doe-eyed and blind to what everyone would deem as danger. Perhaps curiosity is a fault, but it does bring us out of our comfort beds and into a new world of possibilities and wonder. The surrender to the great unknown. It is intrinsic for humans to insist on safety, but isn’t evolution part of us as well? Beyond our innate need to stay safe and be clever with our choices, there is also this wild courage and the desire to evolve. To chase the promise of the horizon that there can be more, that the world is wide, and that our lives can expand into something bigger than they already are today. Some would call it insatiability, but would it be so poetic and cliché to say it’s falling in love with the sunrise and the longing after its setting? And you never love with logical knowing. It’s always a gut feeling, a wisdom in your bones that only that silly fistful of beating flesh inside your chest knows. And the reasons are always unexplainable—unable to be rationalised by words and math and scientific equations. Think magic, think inklings and intuition. Would you have allowed yourself to bask in life’s little moments if you knew the exact values of effort needed for every little aspect? If you knew how difficult it was to complete that book? To get over that first heartbreak, to fall properly in love? Would you have let yourself live every single acquired experience thus far?

Under The Tuscan Sun, 2003

You’re supposed to do it scared. You’re supposed to do it with doubts running around your head. You should feel like a complete fool for going against the grain. Above all, you are supposed to live it—to begin, regardless.

There is no guarantee in this life besides change, and The Fool embraces this. He doesn’t hide or run or deny. He doesn’t act superior to the universe and attempts to be one step ahead of every surprise. He doesn’t insist on being clever. He surrenders. He steps on the precipice with a growling hunger for the new—for things to change—and trusts the unknowing. He answers the calling. And this is how the journey is supposed to begin.

---

Thank you for reading my little musings and poetry! It means a lot to me that you are here, reading through my diary of sorts. Know that I can’t wait to read yours too :)