Sillyness is Serious Business

I know we like to skim through blogs

because we live life on fast forward

but this is worth the  time spent for our health!

It is the underlying  theme for my blogs

I’m Learning to be SILLY

I make up silly songs and silly jokes. I use my time in silly ways, like juggling and working picture puzzles and building model airplanes. My imaging and visualizing and daydreaming are silly. I’m amazed by the world.

I didn’t used to be silly. I was responsible. I was efficient. I was productive. I was serious–deadly serious.

What’s the difference? Silliness is much more responsible and efficient and productive, that’s the difference.  Being serious is what’s really silly.

I could do serious imaging about weighty matters, and people I don’t like, and injustices that make me angry, and how the world is going to the dogs, if it hasn’t already. I know how to do serious thinking about great problems for which I have no solutions.

I used to do that serious kind of visualizing. I imagined what I’d say if someone did something nasty. I argued with imaginary opponents about angry issues. I awfulized the breakdown of the car or the death of a friend. I anticipated getting caught in a traffic jam or in the slow line at the bank. I spent a lot of time being serious. It made me sick. Now that was really silly!

If we’re silly, however, that means we’re serious about being healthy. Norman Cousins found that when he laughed at the silliness of the Three Stooges, he began to get well. Serious medical people said that was silly. Wasn’t that silly of them?

At the very least, silliness keeps me from thinking depressing thoughts, the sorts of images that lower the numbers of healthy agents in the body. Prayer is the same way. If I’m praying for myself or for others or for the world, even if the prayer is doing nothing else, it’s using my mind and energy so they can’t see images and think thoughts that are negative, that will make me sick. Of course, some people think prayer is silly, too. They’re right, of course. Prayer is silly and silliness is prayer–and they’re both good for us.

When children begin to have too good of time, adults say, “Now you’re being silly,” or “Don’t be silly!” I think adults are jealous of children. We aren’t allowed to be silly, so we don’t want them to be, either. “Get that silliness out of your head, child. Be serious. Be mature. Live a life of drudgery. Show how adult your are by getting sick and dying young.”

Attitude makes a difference. Silliness is the best attitude. You get sick on serious, and you get well on silly.

Jesus said, “You can’t enter the kingdom of heaven except as a child” (Mark 10:15 and Luke 18:17). How silly. All children do is play. Why does he think we spend our whole lifetimes trying to mature, to stop being like children? Children are silly. They don’t understand how serious the business of life is.

Ah, the “business” of life. But life isn’t a business, is it? It doesn’t have a profit-and-loss sheet, a bottom line.

Life is given to us as a joy. Little children understand that. There’s no business to what they do, they just do it. They look in wonder at the world about them and start laughing and roll down the hill.

I’m sure Jesus had childlikeness, not childishness, in mind. Childishness is when we think of no one but ourselves and our own immediate needs. It’s a stage we need to grow out of if we’re to live well with other people. Childlikeness, however, is a stage we need to grow back into as adults, the stage when life is such a wonder and so much fun that we fall down laughing at it.

We want to be childish when we first hear that we have cancer. We’re scared and hurt, and we can’t think very far beyond ourselves. Getting well is moving from that childishness to childlikeness.  Cancer helps us to get into heaven, because if we want to get well, we have to become like children again. Indeed, our task as adults, and especially as patients, is to become more perfect children.

It would really be silly not to be silly. No one gets well that way. It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.

McFarland, John Robert. Now That I Have Cancer I am WHOLE. Kansas City:Andrews McMeel,2007 Print (141-143)
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s