Sue, I signed on: reckoning that 2.1 pension crowns a day to a fanatical woman on the other side of the world was a proper insurance policy that assures that somewhere the good continues. Having declared my true believership, your stories adjusted some; deeper, my bottomless weeping could begin...
I know the turf; nowadays I merely skirt my clown legacy by engaging innocent passersby in all sorts of conspiracies -- fortunately I live at the juncture of two car-free laneways with a steady stream of two legged creatures just by my window. At this point, I still have enough civility in reserve that the psychiatric ambulance team have yet to put in an appearance.
I will continue to absorb your stories and if encouraged throw in my own...
The text of my tears was a new one. In a year where they have been dropping like flies, death is a frequent accompaniatice; the shift facilitated by your impertinent balloons, came out as ' I miss my self.' More, if coaxed.
Thanks for your response. I did much weeping as I developed my clowning. I would play and perform as Pierrot and have a wonderful time. The next day I would be sick and weeping. The performing unleashed a sense of grief that I needed to process. I realized I was gaining insights and becoming stronger. I think this is part of what the heart of clowning is about.
Sue, I signed on: reckoning that 2.1 pension crowns a day to a fanatical woman on the other side of the world was a proper insurance policy that assures that somewhere the good continues. Having declared my true believership, your stories adjusted some; deeper, my bottomless weeping could begin...
I know the turf; nowadays I merely skirt my clown legacy by engaging innocent passersby in all sorts of conspiracies -- fortunately I live at the juncture of two car-free laneways with a steady stream of two legged creatures just by my window. At this point, I still have enough civility in reserve that the psychiatric ambulance team have yet to put in an appearance.
I will continue to absorb your stories and if encouraged throw in my own...
The text of my tears was a new one. In a year where they have been dropping like flies, death is a frequent accompaniatice; the shift facilitated by your impertinent balloons, came out as ' I miss my self.' More, if coaxed.
Hi Bembo,
Thanks for your response. I did much weeping as I developed my clowning. I would play and perform as Pierrot and have a wonderful time. The next day I would be sick and weeping. The performing unleashed a sense of grief that I needed to process. I realized I was gaining insights and becoming stronger. I think this is part of what the heart of clowning is about.
Warm regards,
Sue