Sorry to disappoint you all before I start, but this is not a deep and meaningful scientific examination of the public face and hidden face of the clown.
Well, maybe just one clown.
Painting the face isn’t necessary. There is no need to create a mask of bright colours to hide what is underneath. Decoration isn’t necessary.
Looking in the mirror, what we reflect back is as good a mask as anything Dulux could accomplish. Even the eyes can conceal, with practice.
So, what is shown is not necessarily what is seen. And with good reason. There is always a need to disguise the real opinion of work colleagues, committee members, strangers; just to retain civility and peace.
And also to contain, enclose, control the screams, tears and twisting pain in heart and thought.
Significant effort has been spent over so many years compartmentalising the silent screams, the voiceless shouts of whatever emotional spasm is trying to escape. And, with distractions and supportive relationships, it is always, has always been, controllable. Mostly.
Today, sat at a corner desk, a little more joky, and chatty, and not the usual grump. And observing this, and wondering why. And feeling the pressure on the dam walls building slowly, and the silent noise grows in volume.
And looking at Instagram and Facebook to find those hooks of peace, of love, of places of comfort. And holding them tight, and feeling the pressure subside.
And losing some of the clown’s face now, because the turbulence has subsided.
Clown face is a useful tool. Because nobody needs the bloke in the corner letting the reality of his thoughts out.
Little triggers can cause big surges, but so far the makeup holds firm.
And it will continue to, even under the unexpected pressures that appear from nowhere. The face of a clown is a powerful thing.
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