Probably the most personal thing I’m writing here. Probably one of the toughest lessons.
One day a clown taught me an important life lesson.
I had just started university and, at that time, I was insecure and prone to be embarrassed by just about anything. Somehow, I figured that to help me with self-confidence, I would join a theatre club. The thought frightened my a bit, so I figured I’d give it a go.
Every other Wednesday night, a visiting guest would host the session and would and teach us a thing or two. Joining us on stage were professional actors, voice coaches, dancers, singers, writers and so on. I used to enjoy those sessions with them.
On one dark winter evening, a clown turned up in the theatre lobby. A so-called ‘professional’ clown. I thought it was terribly awkward to have a clown here with us and I was skeptical that I could learn anything. He looked completely normal, though. He could’ve been a carpenter or a climbing instructor. He had short hair and wore a jeans jacket.
We all walked into the cold theatre hall, turned on the lights and drew back the curtain. He gathered us onto the stage, and we sat down in a circle.
He began by saying: ‘It’s not particularly funny when a clown slips on a banana skin. If, however, the clown notices the banana skin, carefully steps over it and then by his own misfortune is forced to step back and then slips on the banana skin, that’s much funnier.’
This, incidentally, isn’t the important lesson but it does describe a lot of the predicaments I tended to find myself in.
The actual lesson came as a result of an exercise we did after that. It was a role play exercise between two people. Very simply, it’s a recurring dialogue that goes like this:
Person A: Have you got anything to show me?
Person B: Yes. [Do something stupid, spontaneous, outrageous]
Person A: That was really good [mean it when you say it!]. Have you got any more to show me?
Person B: Yes! [Do something …]
Repeat.
We partnered up and tried this exercise. Then, after a few minutes of practicing we sat down again. The clown announced, ‘Now it’s now time for a pair to perform this on stage in front of everyone’.
I definitely did not want to go on stage to do this so I looked in a different direction and I lowered my head behind someone else.
The clown walked around the stage, spotted me and decided that I should be Person B – the one doing the stupid stuff in front of everyone on stage.
Whilst everyone made themselves comfortable into the padded red theatre seats, I walked into the middle of the dark and quiet stage. It was like re-entering a bad dream: I was on stage, the spotlight was on me and I was being watched by everyone.
We started the role play and immediately everything I did felt awkward and contrived. After a few cycles through the role play, I looked down towards the clown in the front row and asked him if we could finish. He shook his head. I asked him how long this would go on for. He simply responded with, ‘I’ll tell you when to stop. Carry on.’
So, we carried on.
I began blushing, I was visibly sweating, my voice was going haywire and echoing in the silent hall. I dreaded to know what people were thinking. I tried to make funny noises and movements, but the hall remained silent.
The role play went on and on and despite my begging for it to stop, the clown refused each time and assertively told me to continue.
We must have cycled through the roleplay about twenty or thirty times until I became almost bored of my own predicament and I thought, I don’t care anymore what people are thinking about me. At that moment, the clown stood up and said, ‘Okay, we’ve got there. You can stop’.
I was stunned and left speechless. I was just about to do something truly spontaneous.
Leaning against the stage, he turned to the group and explained he could sense exactly when I had ‘let go’. That is, I had let go of my inhibitions and fears. I didn’t need to do anything to confirm this to him, he just knew. In actual fact, everyone knew. It’s just that clowns have had an archetypal role throughout history to be able to ‘speak truth’ and say the things that others can’t.
The clown explained that any awkwardness or fear that you feel will be sensed by the audience – and even reflected and amplified back to you. If, however, he said, you can get up there in front of everyone, and be ready to make a fool of yourself, then you’ll have nothing to fear.
So, in this exercise, we only had one objective: get up there and make a fool of yourself. I couldn’t do it and tried so desperately to avoid it, as if I was trying to dodge the banana skin on stage until I had no other option but to step back, slip, and allow myself to crash through the platform of inflated self-importance, only to land on a soft haystack underneath.
Why was that so difficult?
I only realised much later, that making a fool of myself wasn’t the lesson.
The real lesson is to do something that scares you.
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