Dumb Enough

I wish I were dumb – just smart enough to survive and enjoy life. Not so smart that I’m always thinking, thinking, thinking. Enough thinking! My mind can’t stay in one place. It is constantly making connections. For example, when I had this thought, suddenly Devo’s song “Mongoloid” started playing in my head:

            Mongoloid he was a mongoloid

            Happier than you and me
            Mongoloid he was a mongoloid
            And it determined what he could see

I had never given Devo a lot of thought before Bruce became obsessed with them a few years ago. I just remembered the red plastic flowerpots on their heads (which I’ve since learned are “energy domes”) and listening to “Whip It” with my friend Seth, back in 1980, as we built Lego castles ruled by short, fat vanilla wafer kings and tall, thin pretzel rod queens (both of which were continually being deposed and eaten!)

Then Bruce went through a phase where he played Devo all the time (he’s actually still doing it, but he uses headphones now). He had our (at the time) four- or five-year-old daughter singing all the words to “Jocko Homo” (“Are we not men? We are Devo…”)

 Do you see how thinking too much can take a person off track? Anyway, I had heard the song “Mongoloid” before, but listening to it over and over, I began to feel like the song was somehow describing the life I wanted – simple, with only the minimum necessary amount of thought

And he wore a hat
and he had a job
and he brought home the bacon
so that no one knew

I only wear a hat in the winter. I have a job, but I can’t just go to work, do my job and leave. Not only does it involve a lot of prep work and constant vigilance to look for things that will intrigue and inspire my students, but there is always more that can be done. It is impossible to do enough. It’s very obvious that if I worked harder I could do the job better. So there is always pressure. I’m always thinking about it. And then I go to work and see that there’s a committee which is needed to do this important thing (whatever it is). I think I should join because I know how to do it. But if I were a mongoloid then I wouldn’t have to worry about it. I might not even notice that there was a committee.

Someone is probably horrified A) that I’m using the word “mongoloid” to describe a mentally challenged person and B) that I want to be one. The thing is, though, that we are all mentally challenged. Every day of life is a challenge that we have to deal with, mentally much more than physically. If it rains, you would think that would be a physical challenge, but it is our minds which must decide if we should grab an umbrella or not. Boots? Raincoat? Should I cancel my planned afternoon at the beach or will it have stopped raining by then? Grabbing the umbrella and stepping out the door is the least part of the challenge.

And maybe I shouldn’t even bother with it. Natalie Goldberg writes about how a writer needs to be a little “dumb”. In Writing Down the Bones, she asserts:

 

            In a rainstorm, everyone quickly runs down the streets with umbrellas, raincoats, newspapers over their heads. Writers go back outside with a notebook in front of them and a pen in hand. They look at the puddles, watch them fill, watch the rain splash in them. You can say that a writer practices being dumb. Only a dummy would stand out in the rain and watch a puddle.

I want to be dumb enough to watch the puddle and only just smart enough to write down what I see. With all the excess brain capacity I have now, it’s too easy to start comparing one puddle to another or to be reminded of a different puddle, when I was four year old and the things my parents were saying at the time, which shaped my psychological outlook to this day, and which I can blame for why I haven’t gotten further in life, etc. Or to sigh that this puddle is a metaphor for the state of affairs in Syria. (It’s muddy and everyone has stomped in it…)

To appreciate the puddle, to really see it, involves simply looking at it, and when you’re too smart, it is extremely difficult to just look. Which is why I want to be just smart enough and no more.

            Mongoloid he was a mongoloid

            Happier than you and me
            Mongoloid he was a mongoloid

And it determined what he could see

I want to see what’s there and no more. It would be easier if I had one more chromosome, but instead, ironically, my mental challenge is that I have to use my own brain to circumvent itself. I’m not sure I’m smart enough for that.