Whimsy,
by definition, is a whim, freak, or caprice; but this definition does
not take one to the heart of the matter. Whim, on the other
hand, provides four meanings as a noun and two more as a verb, one
intransitive, one transitive. I am not referring here to the
ornithological whim which is but another local name for the wigeon.
whim, noun:
1. A pun; double-meaning.
2. A sudden turn or start of the mind;
a capricious notion; a humor; caprice; fancy.
3. A fanciful or fantastic device,
object, or person.
4. Any of various machines for
hoisting.
Let
us forego the fourth definition (at least until we are hoisted on our
own petard); and put aside the verbal usage as well. Whims
and to whim are rather rare these days. 'A sudden turn of the
mind' suits my purpose best; but note that the word seems to range
widely from madness and mayhem to joyful meandering. Behind the freak
lies chaos; bolstering the joy lies wholesomeness. I have written
elsewhere that wholesome and integral seem synonymous to me; and so,
too, the words wholesomeness and integrity.
The
etymology of the word whim places its origin in the
Scandinavian languages. In Norway, kvim
is foolery, as in our Tom Foolery, acting the fool, pretending to be
mad. In Denmark, vimse
means to be giddy, skip or whisk about.
A selection of synonyms for whimsy
gives some idea of the range of the word:
bee, caprice, crank,
fancy, freak, humor, kink, maggot, megrim, notion, vagary, vagrancy
This
brief introduction is necessary to support my notion that making a
decision is, for the most part, a whimsical endeavor. Deciding, of
course, is an integral part of all behavior; so that one might
conclude that most of human behavior is, well, freakish or fanciful.
Think not? And just how did you come to that decision? Make a list,
did you? Pro and con and what-have-you. Enumerated this and that,
skipping about until giddy; then, finally, pulling the trigger.
Deciding.
This
business of decision is a function of one's mind, and can be lumped
under the general rubric of problem solving. Just how one goes about
solving problems is not well understood by neurologists,
psychologists, or the fellow down the block. While it is a myth that
one only uses 10% of the brain, the fact remains that homo sapiens
only understand about 10% of the brain's function.1
How
problem solving actually comes about falls largely into that cloudy
90% area of confusion. Einstein, when confronted with the abstruse,
use to go for a ride on his bike. "Intuition is a sacred gift,"
he said. Intuition. "The rational mind is a faithful servant."
Reason. I would have added '... but
a faithful servant ...' The intention is to downgrade reason from
all-powerful to merely another tool, blunt though I find it, to shape
one's thoughts. Trying to decide whether to fish or cut bait, for
example, is a common metaphoric conundrum that rarely succumbs to
reason. Listing pros and cons is enlisting the aid of that
faithful servant, reasoning. This method will barely get you to the
door; but allowing intuition to have its say (how is that done, you
ask? How much time do you have?) is receiving the gift. Wham, bam,
the door slams open. Decision made. Problem solved. Why didn't I
think of that! A bit whimsical, this business, don't you think?
If
you are struggling with your intuition, not hearing those little
voices, it should come as no surprise. All of modern society from
public schools to corporate management, from parenting to
politicking, is a wet blanket thrown over intuition to keep it down.
If not used, one loses the knack.
You
get your intuition back when you make space for it, when you stop the
chattering of the rational mind. The rational mind doesn’t nourish
you. You assume that it gives you the truth, because the rational
mind is the golden calf that this culture worships, but this is not
true. Rationality squeezes out much that is rich and juicy and
fascinating.
Anne
Lamott
And
from 1500 years ago, while the Greeks were poisoning the well of
Thought with reason, Chinese mystics were telling stories like 'The
Empty Cup.' Many versions of the story exist. Here is mine:
The Magistrate went to the Master
seeking advice on the latest outbreak of lawlessness. The Master bade
him sit and prepared tea. "The District is all
higgledy-piggledy," the man said. "I have done all I can,
and am now at an impasse. What should I do? What can I do?""
He wrung his hands in agitation. Sweat beaded across the man's broad
forehead.
When tea was steeped and stirred, the
Master placed a cup before the portly Magistrate. He began to pour.
As his guest looked on, the cup filled. The Magistrate became
increasingly anxious. The Master poured. As the cup overflowed,
spilling over the table and running off into the man's lap, he pushed
himself up with an oath. "Fool," he cried. "What are
you playing at?" The Master merely nodded his head. "Just
so," he said. "Like this cup, you are much too full of
yourself. Emptiness must precede wisdom."
A
mind replete with facts, opinions, anecdotes, and preconceived
notions, will fail to recognize wisdom. Every time. Such a man with
such a mind will not even accept the mildest piece of advice, or the
most gentle rebuke. He is lost in the hurly-burly of his mind.
Whimsy,
I would suggest, is the function of an empty head. And the back side
of whimsy is ... wisdom.
DID
YOU KNOW?
A
petard is a bomb, and to be hoisted by one is to be blown up.
Shakespeare coined the phrase '...hoisted with his own petard...' for
Hamlet,
and it has since become something of a cliché.
Anne
Lamott is a writer, educator, and political activist from northern
California.
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