Tears of A Clown

We are blessed with a visiting student from Europe lately.  She is an energetic young lady who has an unusual profession as a clown.  She performs with a troupe, but teaches children acting classes on the side.  When asked how she became a professional clown, she says that she started out studying acting.  By a twist of fate, she got to try out clowning.  It is so fascinating and intriguing that she jumped ship and switched to clown school instead.

The first day she came, the other students on the mat were all mid to upper kyu graders.  I thought they could use a challenging class.  But our clown's Aikido experience was only two weeks of "Introduction to Aikido".   What am I going to do with her?  After watching her during warm up, I decided to take the chance and let her try to blend in with the class.  She did not disappoint me at all.  Is it her acting training?  Or could it be clown school?  Not only did she follow the movement sequences quite well, she managed to capture the feeling part of the demo also.  She may not be as familiar with the techniques as the other students, but she was able to follow the class without much problem.  I was quite impressed.

We ended class with kokyu-ho (paired breathing exercise).   In a seated position, the uke holds the wrists of the nage to push at nage's center while the nage works on uprooting the uke by coordinating his breathing and body movements.  I paired up with our clown.  I played nage first.  It did not take much for her to fall over.  I could see in her eyes that she was not happy.  She tried holding me down harder, but it did not change the outcome.  I could feel a feisty fire lighting up inside of her.

When it was her turn, like most beginners, our clown stiffened up and shoved at me forcefully.  I did not move -- because her force went right into my feet.  It actually helped me feel even stronger.  Getting no results from pushing, the clown tried pulling her arms up.  She is a strong girl with big biceps.  Unfortunately, they are not enough to lift a grown woman off the mat.

"What did I do wrong?  It's not working!"  The clown pinched her lips tightly together.  I gestured to her that we switch roles.  Like before:  I moved; she fell down.  I asked her to try again.  "Don't push hard.  Just focus on moving yourself.  I promise I won't try to stop you." I assured her.  Nevertheless, the clown decided to push at me with even more force, but it only got her stuck even sooner.  The clown grimaced.

"Why are you fighting so hard?  Why?  Before you started it, there was no fight.  Don't fight.  Forget about me.  Just move yourself."  Tears came down from the clown's face.  I could tell immediately it had nothing to do with the practice at hand.  It was something else.  Something inside is eating our little clown.

As I get to know her better, our clown tells me that her family life was not very desirable.  Her brother ran away from home at a very young age.  She also left home pretty young to work and travel in different countries.  Hunger and poverty were frequent themes in her life.  The reason she comes to DC is to see her brother who escaped home.

The many stories our clown recounted explain the complicated look in her young eyes.  It also explains her feistiness on the Aikido mat.  Like many, she is simply reenacting her real life on the mat.

I cannot change our clown's life for her.  We all have our own paths.  As her Aikido instructor, all I can do is to try to show her that, sometimes, the more you fight, the more you need to fight.  The more you think you need to overcome something, more things will appear for you to overcome.  Life is just so.  Therefore, as much as possible, do not to start a fight.

Our little clown is going back to Europe soon.  I hope she comes back to see us again.  Perhaps, by then, she will not have to fight so hard all the time like she used to . . .







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