Yoga and Clown

It was just about a year ago that Scott called me a clown. He meant it as a compliment. He's a clown and he recognized my clown.

I even took a clown workshop last summer and found that indeed, I have some clown. As I recall, I got myself into a bit of trouble after that workshop because I really let go of a couple of filters and said things people weren't used to hearing and I had a bluntness that came with my clown. But my clown didn't go to bed at night - she stuck around.

Yoga is about letting go of what's not you. Clown is also in part about letting go of what's not you. Letting go of inhibitions, filters, concepts, and more. Clown challenges the edges of the container. Good yoga does that too. Busts the container open or even obliterates it.

If you've been in the presence of some good gurus or teachers and you're familiar with clown, you'll see the similarities. They don't play by the rules - or rather, those are their rules - they don't play by the common rules.

I squash my clown when I teach. I think I really get the Jack-in-the-Box idea - that box is kept closed under pressure. Turn the crank enough and out pops the messy clown. I squash my clown a lot of the time actually. We all do. It makes things civilized.

I just came back from a clown show at the Fringe Festival. It was really inspiring. The main thing I got was that the performer found relief in her clown. She found her clown and it brought total relief to her. My clown rattled a little as I left the show. I hope I can keep the lid on it tonight while I lead yoga and meditation.

Living from a Broken Heart

One of the things that Pema Chodron said on the last day of the retreat I was at just over a week ago is to stay tender and open in life. In fact, she said, "live your life from the place of a broken heart." It's not depressing or sad even really. But it's about being open to your life - to what you like and don't like, to what's there and what not's there. It's a really tender place to be.

Letting my heart be broken means seeing what's really there. Seeing the humanness in people. In myself. It means I make mistakes.

When I took the clown workshop a couple of months ago one of the things Nick said was, "we love you when you're confused." The clown can be confused and people love him/her. Sometimes being tender and open means being confused, not sure where to turn, not knowing if it's going to work out. Resting in that place takes a lot of strength. It takes something to sit while you're tender and open and uncertain.

But something happens in that space. Some kind of softening and connection to other people emerges. Compassion, even friendliness towards others and ourselves. Pema writes a lot about that, about cultivating friendliness towards ourselves.

Clown Pose

So this weekend I've been in a Clown Workshop ;) Yep. I'm taking Clown. Don't ask, it just came up and seemed like a good thing to do at the time. It still is! However! We'll go from being sitting on a cold floor to all of a sudden running around in barefeet pretending to be riding horses in a ring. (It sounds weird as I read what I'm typing, but trust me, it seemed right in the context.) And we'll start jumping around and then go sit down for an hour and back and forth. I should have stretched first.

There's a place for yoga in Clown. At least in Clown Classes. We could do some asanas first and maybe a few after! Imagine a savasana after all that clowning around? Heaven.

Clown Pose itself has been interesting. It's a pose that requires being present and connected to the surroundings while having an intention and I would say a commitment, although we haven't talked about that. The pose, whatever it is, is the form and the being present inside of it gets us to have whatever vibration that pose is, that prana diagram, that experience, and there's freedom in that. That's exactly where it is, in fact.

So I'm learning Clown Pose. It's got a big stretch to it for me. Lots of sensations to breathe into!