“You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm” (Colette)

There’s a fascinating phenomenon called the “Third Man Factor” where people who find themselves in life-threatening or harrowing circumstances report feeling an unseen and reassuring presence alongside of them as they’re guided to safety.  To people of faith, this unexplained comfort is believed to be divine intervention, and to skeptics, it’s shrugged as a coping mechanism or form of hallucination.  Whatever this manifestation may be, those who experience it claim it was the factor that kept them alive.   

As I started to think back on the many invisible presences I’ve felt at my side, I began to wonder … if an invisible presence can help to save our life, can an alternating presence help to embarrass it through foolish prompting?  There have been many times in my life when I’ve done something completely against my rational thought, only to wonder why.  For instance, there was a time when I allowed an ungainly and butterfingered hairdresser to play mad scientist with my hair, which I’ve always sought to protect as my crowning glory. I went against my #1 rule in commissary exchange:  The person selling the service must positively represent what they’re offering.

Butterfingers transformed my light brown hair, for which I requested subtle blonde highlights, into a discounted Halloween wig you’d find at Party City.  With a dark, muddy base color that resembled soggy coffee grounds, and alarming tangerine-colored chunks splattered throughout my hair in a patchwork pattern instead of the customary vertical streaks, the Bride of Frankenstein looked chic in comparison to my Pepé Le Pew from a Grunge Universe. After my hysteria subsided, the next morning I could do nothing more than take a personal day from work, wrap my hair in an oversized scarf and hide behind Jackie O styled sunglasses, praying that a skilled hairdresser who didn’t seem to have a personal vendetta against me would be available to transform me back to refinement.

Are foolish acts a way to humble our egos, to remind us that alongside our hubris hides a court jester who’s more than willing to bring us down to earth? Foolish acts and foolish choices have been around since days of the Cavemen, when I suspect some prankster in a loincloth tried to reinvent the flame only to burn his ass. 

Foolishness has its place in the world.  Just not when you’re over the age of 40.