Humour and Candles
with a jest and a jibe
To laugh or not to laugh—that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing them, end them with a hearty chuckle. In the grand theatre of life, humour serves as both a balm and a beacon, guiding us through the tempestuous waters of existence with a light heart and a merry soul.
Humour, that enigmatic sprite, flits and dances through our lives, a capricious jester at the court of human experience. But what is humor? Is it merely the tickle of wit upon the ribcage of the mind, or does it possess a deeper, more profound essence? In my next letter, we will embark on a journey, through the labyrinthine corridors of philosophy to uncover the nature of this delightful phenomenon.
Now, humour is a tricky beast, isn't it? Just when you think you've got it all figured out, that perfect punchline or that flawless comedic timing, the universe goes and throws you a curveball. One person's gut-busting hilarity is another's eye-rolling groan, and trying to pin down the universal elements of what makes something funny is like herding cats - it just isn’t going to happen. I’ll probably have to talk about “jokes” and how objective they are or may not be in another letter.
The mere fact that humour is such a slippery, subjective, and often downright bizarre phenomenon is precisely what makes it such a fascinating topic to ponder. I mean, think about it - we humans are the only species on this big blue marble that can truly appreciate the absurd, the ironic, the darkly comedic. We're the ones who can find hilarity in the most unexpected places, who can turn our own foibles and fears into side-splitting anecdotes. Be grateful, you can laugh—even when nothing’s funny.
Imagine, if you will, a jester in King Lear's court. Amidst the storm and strife, this fool, armed with nothing but a quick tongue and a cap adorned with bells, brings forth laughter from the very depths of despair. In this hypothetical world, humour emerges as a paradox—a sweet sorrow that brings joy even in the darkest times.
In this jest lies a fundamental truth: humour sometimes springs from the well of our deepest pains. The philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer posited that all humour is rooted in the incongruity of our perceptions. The jester, by juxtaposing the tragic with the absurd, reveals the folly of our solemnities and invites us to laugh at the very absurdity of existence. Ever been so perplexed, you just—laugh? There!
And what is it about the human condition that gives rise to this peculiar ability? Is it our self-awareness, our capacity for abstract thought, or our tendency to take ourselves a little too seriously? Or is it something deeper, something hardwired into the very fabric of our consciousness, a survival mechanism that allows us to cope with the inherent tragedies and tribulations of existence?
Philosophers have been grappling with these questions for centuries, from Aristotle's musings on the cathartic power of comedy to Bergson's theories about the social function of laughter. And the more you dig into it, the more you realise that humour is inextricably linked to our most fundamental questions about the nature of reality, the meaning of life, and the human experience as a whole.
Socrates, perhaps the wisest of the Greeks, once declared that the unexamined life is not worth living. Yet, might we also say that the unlaughed-at life is not fully lived? To laugh is to embrace our humanity, to acknowledge our imperfections, and to celebrate the delightful absurdity of our existence. It is through laughter that we transcend the mundane and touch the divine.
In the pantheon of gods, there surely must be one who presides over laughter. Perhaps it is Hermes, the trickster, whose cunning and wit bring both chaos and delight. Or perhaps it is Dionysus, the god of revelry, whose joyous abandon reminds us of the pleasures of life.
Yet, beyond the myths and legends, humour itself becomes a philosophical pursuit. To seek humour is to seek understanding, to unravel the mysteries of human nature, and to find the common thread that binds us all. It is a quest for wisdom wrapped in the guise of folly, a journey to the heart of what it means to be human.
Wit, like alchemy, transforms the leaden weight of our troubles into the golden lightness of being. The sharp quill of Oscar Wilde, the incisive pen of Mark Twain—these are the tools of the alchemist of humour. They wield their words with precision, turning the dross of daily life into the elixir of laughter.
Shall we not, then, dear reader, aspire to this alchemy in our own lives? Let us take the trials and tribulations that fate doth throw our way and, with a twinkle in our eye and a jest on our lips, transform them into moments of mirth. For in laughter, we find not only solace but also strength.
I have not much to say today, I am loaded with anxiety—that one where you are reminded that you are not getting any younger. Sounds familiar? Yes, that one.
Birthdays huh, those annual markers of our journey through life. The one that often stir within us a profound sense of reflection. Tonight, beneath the pale light of a waning moon, I ponder the passing of days with a heart tinged with slight melancholy. Each year, a single thread, weaving together moments of joy and sorrow, triumph and regret. As I stand at this threshold, I cannot help but look back upon the path I've trodden. The laughter that once echoed through carefree days now seems like a distant memory, a ghostly whisper in the corridors of my mind.
There were times, not so long ago, when birthdays were filled with the exuberance of youth, a celebration of possibilities and dreams yet to be realised. Friends and family gathered around, their faces alight with mirth, their voices a chorus of love and laughter. But as the years have marched on, the faces have changed, some now absent, their laughter a haunting echo in the silence of the night. They call it growth; I say our laughter has been tainted. No, tainted is too severe—diluted.
And yet, my friend, amidst this melancholy, there is a quiet resilience, a steadfast acceptance of the ebb and flow of life. For in the shadows of our reflection, we find the strength to carry on, to cherish the fleeting moments of beauty and joy that life bestows upon us. The laughter of yesteryears, though faint, still lingers, a reminder that amidst the sorrow, there is still light.
Laugh, will you? Soulfully, wholly, and unapologetically. For in laughter, we find not only a respite from our cares but also a deeper connection to the world and to each other. In the end, it is our shared laughter that binds us, a reminder that despite the trials and tribulations, we are all part of the same grand, cosmic comedy.
So, on this birthday, I raise a solitary toast to the passage of time, to the laughter that once was, and to the memories that remain. Though the road ahead may be uncertain, and the heart heavy with the weight of years gone by, you and I shall carry forth with the knowledge that in the grand comedy of life, every moment, whether joyous or melancholic, is a precious thread in the fabric of our existence.
With a wistful smile and a heart full of memories, I have written to you, dear reader, that I may feel close to you, to step into the new year with your attentive eyes, embracing the bittersweet nature of life, ever hopeful for the laughter that is yet to come.
The show must go on…