Oh, how I wept!

With joy, love, and gratitude, perched in the back of a theater cafe.

I crept back into the small room full of music, Molly singing and playing something sweet and grounded, folksy and original. Holding a yummy brown ale in a glass bottle, I climbed up onto a chair in the back instead of resuming my seat in the front. We had already performed our mid-show clown segment as The Yarnballs, and the second half of Molly’s musical offering was coming to an end soon.

From my little corner, I could see all of the swelling hearts scattered in this cafe theater taking in Molly’s music. I love seeing a stage framed by heads. I love the view of faces in an audience. One lady across the room had her eyes closed; her chin tilted back, the corners of her lips gently tugging at a silent smile as she gently swayed the smallest of sways. Up front, beside my now-empty chair, I could see Bluffles, enraptured. Leaning back against the purple wall, I continued to gaze around the room, opening my ears to the melancholic beauty of Molly’s guitar and song. And there she was. My heart could see her, clear as day, sitting in an empty chair across the room, smiling with her whole body, full of light and love and wow—my Mom.

I wept. Tears flowing with joy and gratitude for this moment, for my life. A waterfall of presence pouring down my clown-white face.

Our whole bit had been about feelings: losing them, gathering them, having them, treasuring them. About arriving to a space without any and being honest about that. Putting on a show with such a truthful premise has felt emboldening.

I suppose it shouldn’t be so surprising that my heart was busted open with this act, by the cooperation of these gentle neighbors making up the audience and by Molly J Clown, who so supportively invited us to take the stage. In so graciously sharing their feelings with us, it seems the audience created a container where now I could get in touch with mine.

The music played. The tears poured.

Over these past few years, I usually feel wildly unprepared in the way of feelings. More often than not, I feel closed off, without the depth of vibrant love to share and give that I used to be so familiar with.

When I was younger, I had far too many feelings. Or, it felt that way, at least. I was a mess of feelings. I couldn’t stop the flow and often leaned into less-than-safe ways of processing them. It was a demolishing lifestyle, but also who I’d always been. My relationships suffered. My trajectory wavered.

And then, I found clown. And could channel all my love, grief, and passion into an art form that connected me with a profound gratitude for humanity.

Finding the way of clown felt like slipping on a lost sock I’d been hunting all my life for.

And then, March 2020 came around, and then the following years and all the ripples from all the hate and disillusionment stemming from the masses’ gargantuan choices during that time…

I started performing again here and there, but the world was changed, and so was I. And so was my relationship with it. As such, showing up full of love to share and magic to gift was no longer my truth; I was scared and angry, alone, and cut off, and I needed to be honest about that.

To protect myself during these years of such socio-political disarray, I created an impenetrable shell of apathy that has left me soaking in stale grief.

My magic, my gratitude, my love and wonder, and my curiosity had begun to atrophy. I tried but never felt safe enough to break through this fortress. Faking it until I could make it only ever went so far. The arrows of love I loosed into the world would hit my walls and return in flames and sorrow.

I decided to move slower in my re-approach to the stage. To not force it. To take my time discovering how I relate again, where the roots of my love may find water that will truly love it back.

The music played. The tears poured. Fissures in my fortress were opening, and I could feel again. I could feel myself connecting with the world around me again. My little auric tendrils peeking out to play. I could feel my spirit embody a space again, and oh, again, it is the way of clown that saved me. That created a space of hope and joy and safety in truth.

The music played. My tears poured, out letting a hot stew of gratitude and love I’d been yearning to feel for so very long. So long, I’d gotten used to discovering a new life without it.

My patience and dedication to seeking authentic places to be in integrity are paying off. However far and few between those places may be.

I could see her there, my mother, smiling, laughing, in joy. With me. I cried. Oh, I cried! I was open, safe, full of love, and surrounded by magic and heart. My first clown performance in my new town this weekend was such a gift. And gosh, how I look forward to gifting this place with more clown!

A hui ho,

Julia