Don't Send In The Clowns, We're Too Tired
Lying in bed with Jeremy the other night we were talking about feelings and how at this one particular point I'd felt as if my heart had opened, broken and this invisible metal shielding came up to protect it. My eyes would almost glaze over and I felt... nothing. It didn't feel right nor good. He thought it was positive. These mechanisms were in place so we didn't have to hurt as much or, in reality, feel as much. I told him I don't operate that way. I don't not want to feel everything. I don't think it's healthy. We try so hard in so many areas of our lives of pretending so many parts. We pretend we're happier than we are, more together, maybe a little richer, more successful. But really it's something other than what we're really feeling.
My mother had called a few days ago asking if I'd accompany her to Alberta to do a reconnaisance mission to see if my estranged brother was alright. I told her I wouldn't go and I didn't think it was a good idea for her to go. She thought otherwise and accused me of being less than compassionate. I told her that everyone has his own time to figure things out. Sometimes it's harder to figure when there's someone over your shoulder questioning, wanting, wishing for more; answers, reasons. People need to come to their own conclusions in their own time. All we can do is support them in their time of needing space to make those decisions. Sometimes, in our infinite wisdom (she spake with a great deal of irony), we know exactly what the problem is and what the solutions are for these individuals, but it takes a great deal of love and compassion to step back and allow them to figure it out themselves. This is a lesson that took me 35 years to figure out. So when Mom asked me how she could demonstrate her love for her son, I told her to keep her love in her heart and when he comes back, and he will, don't hold anything against him for wanting to figure things out and taking the time.
I told her I did very much the same as my brother, Walter, in terms of extricating myself from the family at times. She didn't understand. She didn't really remember. I stopped going to certain family functions just because they weren't fun. No one had a good time. Everyone was trying to convince everyone else of his or her own personal success, whatever that meant to the individual. For me it meant projecting far more happiness than I actually felt, projecting a happier marriage than I really had. This is the problem with clowns.
Clowns have a paid responsibility to make the masses laugh. It's what we think is our mandate. Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry and they just leave. So keep 'em laughing. And on just this topic:
From Leoncavello's Pagliacci, Canio's aria, Vesti la Giubba:
~Consumed with despair on discovering his wife's infidelity, Canio gets ready for performance because the show must go on...
First in Italian, well... just... because!
RECITAR!...
VESTI LA GIUBBA
Recitar!... mentre preso dal delirio
non so più quel che dico
e quel che faccio!
Eppur... è d'uopo... sforzati!
Bah! Sei tu forse un uom?
Tu se' Pagliaccio!
Vesti la giubba,
e la faccia infarina.
La gente paga e rider vuole qua.
E se Arlecchin
t'invola Colombina,
ridi, Pagliacco, e ognun applaudirà!
Tramuta in lazzi
lo spasmo ed il pianto,
in una smorfia il singhiozzo
e'l dolor - Ah!
Ridi, Pagliaccio,
sul tuo amore infranto.
Ridi del duol che t'avvelena il cor.
And in English, for us gloriously sad and loving creatures of beauty and buffoonery:
TO PERFORM!...
PUT ON YOUR COSTUME
To perform! In the throes of delirium
I don't know anymore
what I'm saying, what I'm doing!
Still... you must... force yourself!
Bah! Are you a man or not?
You're just a clown!
Put on your costume,
and make up your face.
People are paying, they want to laugh.
And when Arlecchino
takes away your Colombina,
laugh, you clown, and everyone will cheer!
Turn your agony and your tears
into buffoonery,
your sobbing and pain
into a funny grimace - Ah!
Laugh, you clown,
at your broken love.
Laugh at the pain which poisons your heart.
My mother had called a few days ago asking if I'd accompany her to Alberta to do a reconnaisance mission to see if my estranged brother was alright. I told her I wouldn't go and I didn't think it was a good idea for her to go. She thought otherwise and accused me of being less than compassionate. I told her that everyone has his own time to figure things out. Sometimes it's harder to figure when there's someone over your shoulder questioning, wanting, wishing for more; answers, reasons. People need to come to their own conclusions in their own time. All we can do is support them in their time of needing space to make those decisions. Sometimes, in our infinite wisdom (she spake with a great deal of irony), we know exactly what the problem is and what the solutions are for these individuals, but it takes a great deal of love and compassion to step back and allow them to figure it out themselves. This is a lesson that took me 35 years to figure out. So when Mom asked me how she could demonstrate her love for her son, I told her to keep her love in her heart and when he comes back, and he will, don't hold anything against him for wanting to figure things out and taking the time.
I told her I did very much the same as my brother, Walter, in terms of extricating myself from the family at times. She didn't understand. She didn't really remember. I stopped going to certain family functions just because they weren't fun. No one had a good time. Everyone was trying to convince everyone else of his or her own personal success, whatever that meant to the individual. For me it meant projecting far more happiness than I actually felt, projecting a happier marriage than I really had. This is the problem with clowns.
Clowns have a paid responsibility to make the masses laugh. It's what we think is our mandate. Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry and they just leave. So keep 'em laughing. And on just this topic:
From Leoncavello's Pagliacci, Canio's aria, Vesti la Giubba:
~Consumed with despair on discovering his wife's infidelity, Canio gets ready for performance because the show must go on...
First in Italian, well... just... because!
RECITAR!...
VESTI LA GIUBBA
Recitar!... mentre preso dal delirio
non so più quel che dico
e quel che faccio!
Eppur... è d'uopo... sforzati!
Bah! Sei tu forse un uom?
Tu se' Pagliaccio!
Vesti la giubba,
e la faccia infarina.
La gente paga e rider vuole qua.
E se Arlecchin
t'invola Colombina,
ridi, Pagliacco, e ognun applaudirà!
Tramuta in lazzi
lo spasmo ed il pianto,
in una smorfia il singhiozzo
e'l dolor - Ah!
Ridi, Pagliaccio,
sul tuo amore infranto.
Ridi del duol che t'avvelena il cor.
And in English, for us gloriously sad and loving creatures of beauty and buffoonery:
TO PERFORM!...
PUT ON YOUR COSTUME
To perform! In the throes of delirium
I don't know anymore
what I'm saying, what I'm doing!
Still... you must... force yourself!
Bah! Are you a man or not?
You're just a clown!
Put on your costume,
and make up your face.
People are paying, they want to laugh.
And when Arlecchino
takes away your Colombina,
laugh, you clown, and everyone will cheer!
Turn your agony and your tears
into buffoonery,
your sobbing and pain
into a funny grimace - Ah!
Laugh, you clown,
at your broken love.
Laugh at the pain which poisons your heart.
posted by Comrade Chicken at
5:42 p.m.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home