There he goes, that merry Fool. Dressed in his extravagant best, striking out on a new beginning and new adventures, running not away, but toward. Shunning attachments, he has packed only what he needs in a small sack, he carries a white rose of purity, the sun is shining on him, and he's finally on his great quest, singing a little tune, tra-la!
His faithful companion tries to warn him that he's about to step off the edge of the world, but why should he care? What precipice? Because he has no knowledge of the supposed danger, the universe will hold him up and he'll continue unscathed, like a bumble bee who doesn't know it's not built to fly.
In modern card decks he is the Joker, the wild card, capable of fulfilling anything that is required of him. In the tarot deck his number is 0. He exists, yet he doesn't exist. Like a full, pregnant womb from which life is about to emerge, the Fool represents that promise and peril, that innocence.
This is how I look at April Fool's Day. Not a day of practical jokes and pranks, but a day during which I may walk off the edge of some cliff in my mind—always one of my own making—to find I am magically upheld and supported. It's a day when common sense must take a back seat and I must strike out and let my feet take me where they will.
Where would you go, what would do, if you had no understanding of failure, if you knew you could succeed at anything you set your heart on?
Don't look down!