I am an inherently silly person. I am also inherently creative. What happens when silly and creative interact? I get a life filled with wonderful conversations with anyone I’d like to talk to, because convention and propriety are for others. It’s not that I don’t take things seriously, it’s just that I’m predisposed to seeing absurdity where many see solemnity. A very wise teacher of mine, the late Allyn Lyon, told me when I was criticized for my silly proclivity, “It’s better to laugh, then spend your days crying over the inevitable heartbreak we encounter.” It was not too long after I learned that when I felt my heart break, it actually meant that it had broken open. This then presented me with a choice, closing myself down, so I never had to feel that suffering again, or opening my heart further and recognizing the opportunity of being fully in the world. It’s a realization that things are not as serious as they might seem, and that it’s a time I can face my fear. I also found that an open heart was also the key to unlocking a fearless creativity, not restricted by the sadness that existed all around me.
Creativity flows from and through that opening. It is given license to move beyond the stuckness that prefers to close things down and feel safe. It uplifts rather than buries and the laughter further opens the breach in my heart to let even more possibilities in, to be silly and bring that lightness to help cut through the darkness.
I used to teach a writing course on how to make your characters funny. Being funny first of all requires a courageousness that is willing to look foolish. In the archetypes of the tarot, the Fool is the first symbol, uninhibited and open to the world. Young and fresh, with an unvarnished view of the road in front of him. There are those who see foolishness as unholy, but for me it provides the path to living this life fully, without social constraint.
We meet constraints in every situation in which we find ourselves. It’s become popular to refer to these constraints as guardrails. Limiters that keep us on the straight and narrow. I’m not advocating for removing all constraint. There are those among us whose lack of regard for others require them, but I would propose that the hearts of those who only think of themselves are not open. Perhaps they’re thinking, If I can’t be happy, no one can. There is no laughter in the halls of that life, and subsequently little creative thought.
It’s not that I ignore or am willing to sacrifice poignancy in lieu of solemnity. Beauty is filled with the poignant, heart throbbing moments around us. Nor that I am unwilling to be moved by a mother’s love for her baby, or the tenderness of those aiding those who need it. But then that is a time when we meet the other, and when we can open our hearts further and uplift the other.
I recently had a conversation with a dear friend, one of my dearest, who I have known for over 50 years. Judith reminded me of one of our earliest experiences together, in the hallways of the Mark Taper Forum’s offices, where we both worked. She and I were playing a soccer match in the narrow corridors with a dodge ball. The Taper was one if not the leading theater on the West Coast, and our very tolerant employer. It was chockablock full of creativity and creative people, and for all the ruckus we created that day, laughing and shoting out “goal,”no one complained that we were interrupting an important phone call, or disturbing the negotiations at hand. They knew this was what facilitated the work at hand. Our willingness to be silly was an expression of the work others were doing, it opened their hearts and hopefully freed the path of the creative. Well, at least no one came out of their office and stopped us.
What I have found, is that the uplifted sense of being silly and bringing forth laughter, not just for myself, but others as well, opens the heart to the creative spirit. And from that fearless place we find the courage to open further.
I once made a short film called, The Buddhist Comic. Its full title was, The Buddhist Comic, Seven Minutes and Nineteen Seconds of Suffering. I had coerced a friend of mine to video me sitting on a meditation cushion, meditating for 7 minutes and 19 seconds. I then recorded a voice over, as if inside my thoughts, of me doing the world’s worst comedy routine. It probably wasn’t the worst comedy routine. I had written what I thought were some pretty good Buddhist jokes. I posted it on YouTube and it got over 4000 views, more than anything else I have ever posted.
At the time, I gave a copy of the video on a DVD to a friend who’s wife was a professional comic. He dutifully watched me sitting for 7 minutes and 19 seconds, but for some reason the audio had been dropped from the recording, so he was simply watching me meditate for the length of the video. During his ordeal his wife would walk by and ask, “Anything?” He would tell her, sadly, “No, nothing.”
When he relayed this story to me, I realized my work was complete. What better than to have him watch a comedy routine of a guy meditating for 7 minutes and 19 seconds without any sound. It cracked me up. It has been said by many comics that when an audience doesn’t respond to their jokes it was funnier to them than if they had gotten great guffaws. The late Andy Kaufman, arguably one the most creative comics to ever grace a stage, notoriously performed to make himself laugh rather than his audience, who would often sit dumbfounded by his performance.
Now, that was not the intention of the Buddhist Comic, which still resides on YouTube, but when it does receive that response, especially when the audience can’t hear what the Buddhist Comic is saying, and watches anyway, I got to admit, that’s pretty silly. It certainly encouraged me to be even more creative in my next projects.
My father was the jokemeister. He was adored for his silly humor and his creativity as a prominent copywriter for some of the country’s leading ad agencies and the products they promote. As he told it, he had been called in to try and come up with an ad campaign that could salvage the failing Ford Edsel. He brought his pitch to the client. Over a picture of the distinctive front of the Edsel were the words, “The Grill of my dreams.” Ford hated it, and not too surprisingly, the Edsel died an ignoble death.
One would think that the most difficult thing for a creative person, and a comic, is when the audience misses the funny part. A laugh is a precious thing to arouse. If the first pie in the face doesn’t make them laugh, the second is sure to do so. But then, such are the gifts of the gods.
In many respects, taking the road more silly is an act of courage, as is living a creative life. Those who don’t understand ask begrudgingly, “is that what you do?” Yes, it is, I open my heart, and it opens yours. Ever been around someone with a truly open heart? It’s nice isn’t it? That could be all of us if we were courageous enough to be just a little bit silly.
It’s good to be silly.