Remembering how to be silly relieves tension, removes the masks, and sometimes just keeps us sane.
I saw two friends being silly tonight, just plain childlike. Not immature, not acting idiotically, just playing like children play. No worries, no cares, everything forgotten except for playful actions. One of these friends was a little tired only moments before but I swear she was a different person 10 minutes later, refreshed and revitalized. The thing is their banter and laughter was infectious, you couldn’t help but smile watching these two play. It was during this I wondered when I became so serious, so trapped in my head. When had I forgotten how to play? When had I forgotten how to be silly?
I remember I used to be silly all the time; it was a release of tension. When things got tough I used to get sillier. There were times at work at 1:00 a.m. when I would race around the office on chairs crashing into desks with other colleagues, trying to see who could make it around the floor the fastest. Sure we had deadlines, we wouldn’t have been there at 1:00 a.m. if we didn’t, but we always had time for silliness. It’s what kept us going, kept us awake and charged even on the toughest of nights. I remember being silly and even now I long to be silly again.
I remember the feeling of being silly, the intensity of uncontrolled laughter you just can’t stop. It isn’t that the weight of the world lifted off your shoulders, no, because that implies at some point it could be put back on. No, it is a feeling that there is no world, there is just you, your friends, right now and a thousand different things that shouldn’t be funny you just can’t stop finding funny. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and that roller skating is dangerous, you put them on and act the fool and you can wonder about all the bruises tomorrow. I remember that feeling and even now it still makes me smile.
I remember the freedom that comes from being silly. A relaxing of the guard, the masks that come off and absolutely anything goes. I think friendships must be cemented in silliness, I trust someone that much I am prepared to be myself. Those times of being silly were always with friends, good friends, close friends, friends who mean the world to me. It didn’t matter that to the outside world we were complete idiots, we were friends and that was the only thing that mattered. It didn’t worry us what it would look like playing hide and seek in a nature strip, running around tripping over anything and everything. The only thing that mattered was enjoying the night. I remember that freedom and I wonder if I could fly through the night again like some weird Caspar the ghost, a big one that trips and stumbles a lot.
So I remember now, thanks to my friends, I remember what I have been missing from my life in recent years. I have no idea how I forgot something so important but I think it’s time for me to bring it back. I want to be a child again, not all the time, but just often enough so I can remember what’s important in life. I forgot that some problems are solved by not even thinking of them at all. I forgot that being free means sometimes standing on top of your burdens and using them as a fort. I forgot that sadness doesn’t like laughter. I’ve turned into such an intense serious guy these days but that’s only a part of me. There’s a part of me that’s a child too and I really need to let him play more.
*A minstrel was a medieval European bard who performed songs whose lyrics told stories of distant places or of existing or imaginary historical events. Although minstrels created their own tales, often they would memorize and embellish the works of others. The Modern Minstrel observes the world around him and shares it with us as lyrical story. This series was inspired by Luke Davis, whose eye for story and ear for lyrical prose are featured here.
Also by Luke Davis
|What A Man Wants In A Marriage||What it Takes to See a Man’s Feelings||Have You Seen a Man’s Heart?||Why Date a Man Who Dances?|
Photo: Getty Images