The clown arrives as if the warmest of summer rains, emboldened by the light, had been poured into a fancy form and condensed just right. For he was the very impression of bright laughter and sunny smiles, as if with his innocence he was born to set each inner-child free to play, to awaken long slumbering souls.
The clown looks for all the world as if she was born of summer light that day, as if she were the seed of some pretty flower in accelerated time lapse reality.
If I'm gonna be the serious leader, the one who walks to the most steady drum, that's alright. But, I am a clown too, that's another part of me that'll need room for expression and play. We are all complex and simple in these ways. Different needs arise and different times. We wear different hats for different roles. We switch gears, switch modes, switch operating systems... however you want to say it. If I have the room to remain my most ridiculous self in private, I can be your commander in public. Can't put a lid on funny. Just can't.
Making clowns scary was a one-time shocker that made a name for a horror writer, but it's been over done, over baked and its time to get back to clowns as funny, light hearted and sweet. Clowning around is a thing we all need. It's an important part of society, alone with magic, storytelling and art.
Clowning around is so underrated, there's some great brain biochemistry released by such innocent antics and you can get it for free. So, next time you think of the old class clown, perhaps give them credit for being a social doctor and healer. They never knew it, but they were putting everyone else in their mental health elevator.
If you've ever seen a child squirrelling to get into mischief, as if they've got some grand idea they have to put into motion, an idea they are quite certain will be marvellous and funny - then you've got a great idea of what the clown looked like. For she stood there as if all her days she'd been a firework dreaming of the finest way to light of the sky, yet as she sparked the fuse to flame a gust of wind would hush it and ask her to dream once more. As such she was a mosaic of countless priceless ideas all vying for their time in the air.
Part of me is ever the clown, ever finding mirth in the everyday expressions, ever seeking a moment to dance upon stages real or imaginary. Perhaps that's the creative part of me, perhaps fun and a sense of play is essential for such intelligence.
The clown comes alight from within as if a thousand funny notions are struggling to be expressed in this very moment.
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