Glad to have been a Fool
- Whitsunday Oracle
- Jul 28
- 6 min read
Updated: Aug 2
So over the weekend I found out this year's Miles Franklin Literary Award was won by Siang Lu, for his book Ghost Cities. You may be wondering, and rightly so, what this has to do with tarot, of all things, and I would like to quietly direct you to this marvellous quote from Lu, from the article linked above:
"One must accept failure, embrace failure, make a friend of it. We are fools for art. But I am glad to have been a fool."
Ahhh, and there you have it: naïve, idealistic Fool, mad court jester and crazy clown - the Fool opens the Major Arcana series in Tarot, yet he isn't number 1: he is 0, the nothing, the void; zero is neither positive nor negative, yet can be either.
The Fool is often depicted standing at the very edge of the abyss, and taking one confident step forward: what a leap of faith one must have to move forward where the ground can't be seen!
As the Fool opens the journey through all the archetypes of the Major Arcana, perhaps we shouldn't dismiss his mad demeanour so casually: he is part of the process of development, of maturing, of becoming. He does indeed, as Lu knows too well, hold a crucial lesson for those who dare to take that leap. No guts no glory, as the saying goes - although, as many find, there are no guarantees except that if you don't take the leap your heart propels you to, you will never get to find out where it takes you, and regret may eat at you for the rest of your days - but you will also miss out on life's lessons about failure, and what it means to be human and to fail.
When the Fool comes up in readings, he is often a pivotal card of advice in the trusty horseshoe spread I use: for many, he holds their dream, their fire, their vision of a goal beyond the mundane and ordinary, to venture forth into the unknown with no map, no guide and no plan. Yet in a world where everything - sacred nature and people included - has become commodified, branded and optimised for sterile content, following the Fool can be a very scary proposal - or perhaps, just perhaps, a delicious taste of rebellion against the insatiable corporate machine.
For the Fool asks you to do something that goes against the very grain of our consumer culture: do something not only that has no guaranteed return, but something that - almost always - has no intent (and certainly no respect) for marketable, commodifiable output.
Artists know the Fool well. Perhaps that is why he makes an appearance in art and music, for surely one must indeed be touched by folly to go against the grain and pursue art and creativity instead of financial stability. The Functional Melancholic calls it choosing meaning over metrics, though his message isn't directed solely at artists, it's a message to all of us, as we seek our way back to authenticity, joy, meaningful life and relationships.
Left to right: The Fool albums from The Fool (1968), Bladee (2021) and Jain (2023)
I personally came across the Fool as audio inspiration circa 2010 in the form of Warpaint's otherworldly album, right bang in the midst of personal upheaval and abandonment of the life I had known up to that point: I had deserted the last thing that tethered me my to my previous life - an unfulfilling career (though calling it a career, at 29, is quite a stretch) and instead plunged wholeheartedly - for the first time in my life - into pursuing those things that really mattered and that I loved: yoga, tarot, astrology, copious amounts of reading and just generally enjoying my own sweet time. What a Fool!!
Glad to have been a Fool too, absolutely so (and didn't it pay off handsomely later on), but gosh was it a painful blow to my ego - seeing peers climb career success, start a family and build wealth, while there I was, scraping by again on low wage jobs at 30, unsure of my path yet deeply nourished, for the first time, by art, music, study of esoteric and occult topics, and people who had always lived at the fringe of society yet had the light in their eyes and a warmth to their humanity. The later was quite the revelation to me, a child of stifling suburbia, middle class aspirations, and social status conformity.
Once, many years later, when I was reading tarot at a festival, the Fool arrived for a sweet lady, in the mid-life years of life, as guidance for her to follow her dream to sing and make music (she had already received significant positive feedback and encouragement). At a time when her peers were checking their dividend returns and superannuation balances, her pursuit of a music path made it sound like a crazy mad woman endeavour, a "mid life crisis", a total Fool indeed, yet it was far from a temporary lapse of reason: it was a deep call to awaken what it means to be a creative human being, to live an authentic life that aligned with who she really was at her core. The surrounding cards (again, that trusty horseshoe spread) were very encouraging.
Here's the thing: following the Fool makes you feel ALIVE. Even better, it encourages you to forge your own path, not that of others, or what others may think you should be doing. The Fool asks you to do that very cliché thing of following your heart - with the small disclaimer that you better be damn sure you are indeed listening to your heart, and not what your ego wants (I can't recall who astutely pointed out, plenty of new age spiritual coaches telling us all to follow the sign, except what they really mean is the dollar sign).
Sure, cynics and sceptics may snigger, it's all very well for Lu to say he's glad to have been a Fool, since why, it's paid off for him rather nicely, conveniently ignoring the fact that it took Lu over 200 rejections, and almost 10 years to get to this point.
"Accepting the Miles Franklin at an event in Sydney on Thursday, Lu recalled how he would print out every rejection letter and stick it to a glass window between his office and bedroom, where his newborn baby lay sleeping.
"This book, and its difficult journey into being, taught me how to be a man," he says. "Because I finally understood in that moment how to make sense of my failures.
One must accept failure, embrace failure, make a friend of it. We are fools for art. But I am glad to have been a fool."
Fear, and thus fear of failure, the Fool knows not. Perhaps his madness is divine indeed, for he has glimpsed the eternal, the Maya of Buddhism, the illusory human perception of life, and is now laughing madly at the absurdity of it all: the seriousness of people weighed down by the price of cheese, fake eyelashes, personal branding, elitist aspirations and social status, all the while forgetting that we were given this earth as heaven to enjoy, to look after and to protect for those who come after us.
It seems to me as of late, if you show too much genuine joy for life, it irritates those who love to dwell in the sanctimonious depths of busyness and self-righteous martyrdom - and you'll be seen a Fool, a stigma only surpassed in our socio-cultural wasteland by being labelled poor.
And so, should the Fool appear before you, take a leap of faith into the big, wide unknown. Ask yourself, when was the last time you felt unencumbered joy, and openness to life? Were mesmerised by the mystery of our world, oceans and stars and all? Lost yourself to music, poetry, cinema or art? Went on a road trip with no plan, no destination and no goal other than to feel the freedom of the open expanse with the music blasting on the radio? Gave time to that one dream you've held for so long, it feels like it's slipping away and you're only just holding on to nebulous fragments as you wake up? Or just decided to embrace a different path, because good heaven knows the one you are on is slowly draining you into a fog of oblivion, and you know, as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow, if you don't, you'll become another vacant zombie, all consuming yet never evolving?
I leave you with my favourite quote about the Fool from William Blake:
"The Fool who persists in his folly will become wise"
Until next time,
Monica
