I see magic in their eyes, the world in their weirdness and freedom in their movement. The person behind that costume made a choice – to make a living being laughed at; and that empowers me. They tour the towns, cities and countryside and stand for hours in front of an otherwise bored world. It’s a thankless job, pays so little and takes every drop of emotional energy out of a human being. Yet, they do it.
You, the person on the other side of the circus ring, think that they get to hide who they are. But wait a second, isn’t it what you do too? Sure, you don’t wear a costume.
Hey, go back and look at your life, you have grown a skin to live under. It’s called a doctor, an engineer, a CEO, a chef, a parent, a driver. You have become good at what you do, to shy away from the world when you aren’t good enough. When life throws its challenges and makes you ride a rocky boat, this skin masks you from the world’s judgement. It lets you be.
And that’s what a clown lives for too – to be. Their skin is the one that makes you laugh, lighten up and vent out your frustration; while it hides their own misery and pain.
Clowns. I think about them and feel at home. Where’s my furry costume now?