We are obsessed with making sense of everything. We feel an urge to find meaning in every situation, in every spoken word, every interaction, every relationship forged. And in our fast-paced, blink-and-you–miss-it lives, we strive to live every moment meaningfully, sensibly, perhaps trying too hard at times.
In my opinion, the bane of our modern lives is trying to be too sensible, practical and rigid. As such, we tend to trash the handful of people who do not live by such norms as ‘senseless’, ‘nonsense’ and ‘crazy’. Thankfully, I am one such person who can safely be labelled ‘crazy’ and I have realised that being ‘stupid’, ‘senseless’, even ‘childish can sometimes be a wonderful thing.
For one, it helps to alleviate stress and keep monotony at bay.
My grandfather was a grand, old man who lived till the ripe age of ninety-two. After the expiry of my grandmother and a few years later, my father, I could often see a desolation in his eyes. No matter how much we tried to keep him company, that did not ease. He must have sensed that in constantly trying to keep him company, we were doing somewhat of a duty to a family-member. Though we had both love and respect for him, he used to get jncreasingly uncomfortable of the fact that I was sitting with him for long hours, probably neglecting school work that I ought to finish.
On the contrary, when a few of his acquaintances and friends came over, his eyes would take on a sparkle. Despite the fact that many of these ‘friends’ were years younger than him, he loved their company. Many a time I have heard their stories and they brought on a smile to my face. Most of these were just silly tit-bits, utterly nonsensical stories. I heard the roars of laughter at times and wondered what these elderly men were feeling so wonderful about. The topics would be varied and some really far-fetched. After these men would leave for the day, a smile would linger on my grandpa’s lips and he would look completely refreshed, as if he had just come out of ‘therapy’. ‘Silly’ I called it back then… Now, I’d call that ‘brilliant’.
Then, it helps reconnect with our inner child
.My child and her father bought two goldfish from the pet shop. On our way home, they were deeply engrossed in conversation regarding not just how to take care of the new pets but also how to communicate with them. Much to my amusement, they had a naming ceremony of sorts where the less golden one was named ‘Goldie’ and the other was named ‘Heart stamp.’ (Don’t ask me why, I have no clue!) Once home, they set up everything religiously and the dad-daughter duo sat in front of the fish tank, ‘talking’ to the two fish, trying to wave to them and see which one responds better when their name is called.
I was observing them, fascinated. When my husband finally placed his palm on the outside of the tank, patiently whispering to them, I actually burst out laughing.
“Do u think its a pup? Are you expecting it to come n lick your hand?” I questioned, amused.
“It won’t, right?” His voice sounded a tad flat, vulnerable and child-like. In that lovely moment, I had a glimpse of the little boy who still lived somewhere deep inside my very sensible, wordly-wise and practical husband. It was one of those rare moments when you want to cry but you don’t know why and you don’t care.
It let’s you be yourself… completely, fiercely and unapologetically.
To me, nothing seems more boring than a person who is trying to pretend that he is sensible all the time. Fortunately, I have been blessed with a few friends who are as quirky as I am and we often rejoice in our collective craziness. It is rightly said that good friends know all of your stories, best friends (read quirky friends) have lived those stories with you:-)
Some years ago, I had gone for a picnic with a few other families. It was a fair ground and owing to the fact that that was a long weekend, the place was packed to the brim. As we were looking for a place to set up the barbecue, my friend and I came upon this carousel with the wooden horses that move up and down as if in a dance motion. The long queue for tickets did not deter us. The two of us ran towards it, much to the chagrin of our husbands. After a loooong wait, we climbed up the saddles of two.of those wooden steeds and grinned delightedly. We did notice the security person stationed there and a few other parents frown at us but we cared not We were not breaking any rules, instead laughing our heads off with the little kids who were shrieking with glee. They were not in the least bothered by the presence of two overgrown children in their late twenties.
Another valuable lesson I had learnt that day…. be yourself! In every damn way. Be your true self with your uniqueness and flaws! The right people will appreciate you for having the courage to so.
I could add on to this but it seems pretty long and I’m falling asleep. No idea if I made much sense in this… but even if I didn’t, that is okaý!