The Fool’s Guide to Absolutely Everything (Even If You Don’t Ask for It)
Hello, dear reader! Welcome to my very first advice column. I don’t know why they gave me this job, but I’m certain it’s because I’m the most trustworthy person in the whole tarot deck. I found the card with my picture on it—it’s a little man with a knapsack and a flower, and I think he’s about to fall off a cliff, but that’s just a trick of the light.
So, here’s the thing. My deck has been archiving every unsolicited advice column it can find. It started last Tuesday when I dropped my cards in the recycling bin by accident, and now they’re all stuffed with clippings from newspapers, magazines, and a very stern letter from a woman named Brenda who wants to know how to stop her neighbor from playing the bagpipes at 3 a.m. I don’t know who Brenda is, but I love her energy. She sent a follow-up that just says, “The bagpipes are inside my soul now.” I think that’s beautiful. I told the deck to file it under “Music.”
Anyway, I’m supposed to write the advice column I wish I’d found when I started. And I started about ten minutes ago, so this is very fresh. I wish someone had told me: You don’t need to know anything. That’s the whole secret. The Fool doesn’t know what’s coming next, and that’s why he gets to see the sunrise from the cliff’s edge. If he knew he was about to fall, he’d never notice the daisy growing out of a crack in the rock. And daisies are very important. They’re the only flower that looks like a sun with a napkin on its head.
Now, let’s do some real advice. I’ve shuffled the deck and pulled three cards. The first one is The Tower. This usually means sudden upheaval or something coming down fast. But I think it means you should build a tower out of your problems. Stack them up. Put a flag on top. Then stand back and admire how tall your mess is. That’s called “perspective.” The second card is The Moon. This is a very confusing card. It’s a moon, but there’s a dog and a wolf and a crawfish. I think it means you should howl once a day, even if you’re indoors. It clears the lungs and confuses the mailman. The third card is The Sun. This is the best card. It means everything is fine, and you should eat a peach outside. I don’t care if it’s winter. Eat a frozen peach. It’s the same thing.
Now, a letter from the archives. It says: “Dear Fool, I’ve been trying to find my purpose for ten years. I’ve tried meditation, career changes, and a hot air balloon ride that ended badly. Please help.” Oh, I love this one. Here’s my answer: Your purpose is to keep looking for your purpose. That’s it. The searching is the whole point. If you found it, you’d just stop walking, and then you’d miss all the other things. Like the time I found a quarter on the sidewalk and used it to buy a single grape from a vending machine. That grape was my purpose for exactly three seconds. It was perfect. Don’t let anyone tell you your purpose has to be big. It can be a grape. It can be a bagpipe at 3 a.m. It can be a nap on a cliff.
One more letter. This one is from a very serious person. They say: “I feel like I’m always making the wrong decision. How do I know if I’m on the right path?” Well, first of all, there is no right path. There’s only the path you’re on, and the path you’re on is the only one that has your footprints on it. So if you’re walking, you’re doing it correctly. If you’re not walking, you’re doing it correctly too, because you’re probably sitting in a very comfortable chair. The only wrong decision is the one you don’t make because you’re too scared to pick a card. And I mean that literally. Pick a card. Any card. I picked The Devil once, and it just meant I was too attached to uncomfortable shoes. So I bought better ones. And now I walk better.
In conclusion, dear reader, I have no idea what I’m doing. But neither does anyone else. The difference is, I’ve decided to enjoy it. I’m The Fool, and I’m writing this from the edge of the cliff. The daisy is still there. I’m going to name it Brenda.
So go ahead—fall. You might land on a flower.