April began, as it always does, with fools. My friend and a language explorer shared the origin of the word, and I was fascinated.

The word fool traces back to the Latin follis, which means bellows, an inflated sack of air used to stir a fire. From this root, the meaning evolved into “empty-headed,” “full of air,” or one who appears to lack substance.

And yet, the image of the bellows tells a deeper story.
A bellows is not truly empty, it is a vessel that breathes. It expands and contracts, feeding the flames. What appears hollow is, in fact, essential for transformation.

In medieval courts, the fool, or jester, held a peculiar and sacred role. They were the only ones permitted to speak freely, to mock authority safely, to reveal uncomfortable truths.

“Perhaps the fool is the wisest person in the room”, she says.

Through humor and absurdity, they revealed what was hidden, loosened rigid structures, and restored movement in places that had become too fixed.

Alchemy asks us to take up this same role within ourselves. Not as something we achieve once, but as an ongoing practice. To become willing to loosen what feels certain. To dream while we are awake, and to remain awake within our dreams. To recognize that what feels solid may, in fact, be inflated, held in place by habit, belief, or repetition.

This is often where we meet the inner critic.

The voice can feel authoritative, even convincing, however when we listen closely, it carries a familiar tone. Not entirely our own. Something learned, repeated, reinforced. In this sense, it is less an original truth and more a collective echo.

And so, rather than opposing it directly, we can meet it like the fool would, lightly, relationally.
Thank you for sharing. I don’t need this right now.

This response does not shut it down entirely. Instead, it creates space. And within that space, something subtle becomes possible: discernment.

This is the heart of alchemy.
And also the heart of acupuncture.

Where something is stuck, overfull, or depleted, we don’t force change, we restore flow. We bring parts into relationship.

Through curiosity instead of certainty.
Through play instead of rigidity.
Through relationship instead of control.

A small shift, a meaningful one.

To be empty enough to listen.
Playful enough to explore.
And honest enough to transform.

And from there, something begins to move.