STORY
There was once a clown called Seyya. She was distant, but had a warm heart.
Her father, Koko, was also a clown. Her mother had left the circus not long after Seyya was born, Why?, a conundrum, the only knowledge she had of her mother’s existence is that she became the owner of a world record; the longest time anyone kept their eyelids open, submerged in saltwater.
Seyya’s biggest fear was that one day she would wake up and find herself old, like seventyfour or so. Waking up, without having had the feeling that she was ever really, really alive. It was a feeling deep down that she didn’t live a life that was shaped by herself, that she was riding the wave and playing the hand she was dealt. Seyya feared she had never experienced a true waking moment, or worse, that her life would dream over and that she would die before realizing there is more to life.
Most conversations, endless complaints about the same issues; there is never enough space in the car, what to do with all that cloth?, our shoes are too big and the sunflowers are forever crying... a void of almost meaningless random bickering.
This was an effort for Seyya who embodied lots of extreme empathetic behavior. So much so, that she was afraid to get close to individuals, groups of people, even ideologies. She decided that she would rather stay lonely than to face the music of a painful acquaintance. Seyya once heard a pack of wolves howl at night and afterwards she was feeling blue for a week. She was disillusioned by her own life, the vicious circle of guilt, guilt for the acceptance of comfort, not challenging the path and not trying to have an opinion at all.
The circus life was easy, do what you are told, stay in your lane,do what you are told, play your role, and that’s it.
One day, after arriving in a small and rather peculiar village, the circus got to work, pitching the tent in the town square. They finished quickly and rushed to the changing rooms backstage. The lights blinked and Seyya was looking in the mirror when she felt a change of wind. She followed the cold air as her worries started to spiral out of control. She peered through the curtain. The circus didn’t look right. The tent had crooked poles, holes in the canvas and there was filth all around the stage.
When the crowd started entering, they were not excited, sharing an indifferent mood. As Seyya understood, most of them were not willingly present. The disinterest that shone off them was obvious; she heard negative comments, their preoccupied minds rattling on. She heard the villagers bragging about the harvest and their newly acquired wealth and worried that it would affect the genuine magic the circus usually unveils.
Seyya, while peeking out, concluded that these people have it figured out, a plan, a drive. She felt inspired. A couple of moments later the clown routine started but they kept on talking, seeming to care more about next year's crops. Seyya felt very uneasy and awkward getting on the stage, and in the middle of her performance she fell on her knees. Looking up, with colorful tears in her eyes, she saw her father. Koko cued the band to stop, and comforted his protegé drowning in the sound of jibber jabber from the audience. She wiped her tears and rose up. Seyya entered the moment. She grabbed a microphone and a loud sonic feedback silenced the crowd for the first time. And after that little window of silence Seyya started an empathetic plea, a speech, she talked about her fears, the distractions, the feelings she was struggling with.
But then abruptly her father snached the microphone away, and told a little joke about a mirror, whereupon the audience as one, simultaneously died, from laughter.
Ever Since, Seyya was never the same.
Seyya created and embodied a new role, a new character, a new persona every next day. She wanted to be a different person. For a full year she reinvented her clown persona without once repeating the same backstory or characteristic. Every night she would go to sleep reinventing herself in a different way. One day she was a dog with four legs, the next a chilean miner, a crop-circle enthusiast, a prancing pony with a secret, a sinking stone losing direction,... She was never bored again, she felt alive.
And then, one rainy random Tuesday, Seyya was a bradypus , which is a three-toed sloth. That day her mother came for a surprise-visit to her house, to get the swimming goggles that she had forgotten on the coat rack when she left all those years ago. Her world record breaking mother rang the doorbell, and when then father opened the door, he stood open- eyed, perplexed, he froze on his feet, literally. She came in without giving him any attention, snatched the goggles from the rack and looked over to Seyya.
She sighed and asked: What are you doing?
Seyya the clown replied: (ggguuaaaarrgghh)
This, obviously, is the sound a sloth makes. Mama frowned: What is wrong with you?
Whaaaaaaatt dooooo yououou meeeeaaaann?, asked Seyya.
I’mmmmm aaa Sloooooth tooodaay wiiiitttthhhh noooooo prooooblemssss..
M: Open your Eyes, Open your eyes
preached the mother flamboyantly, as if that was her catchphrase.
M: You can not live like this, without self, you have to ..
S: BUUUUUUTTT,
M: and stop talking like that, so slow, sloths can not talk anyway.
and then Seyya broke character.
S: who are you storming in here , caring about my business after all these years. I can be everything, I will learn and feel everything. Who are you?
ladiladilaa,bluhbluh, blablabla, drama drama drama.
S: Why do you even care? Why now? Why today? As a sloth?
M: Maybe you don’t know this, but people follow you, not because they love you and want you to succeed. But because they want to see how long you can keep up with this daily mental self-imprisonment, they want to see your crack, uh they want to see you crack, they want to see you close your eyes.
S: You are wrong, you are selfish, a shellfish and jealous and you are projecting your own unhealthy competitive mentality to what I'm doing. I’m not gIorifying my own individuality, I do what I do, not to be popular, I do it because I want to connect with everything and everyone, on this living plane.,by asking questions. I don’t know you at all, mother, but if you come back tomorrow i’ll ask you some questions, And I’ll try to be my best version of you for a day, and we can all go for a swim in the sea, somewhere warm, so we can unfreeze father. So his nose will turn red again and hopefully his eyelids will be able to eventually close again.
by Joos Vandueren
