Finding the Magic of Life


Clowning around town,
Finding the magic of life,
It lives in your smile,
For the silent mime is watching
your mirror,
The juggler is a balancing act,
The children’s clown finds the levee of humour,
Brings sounds, laughs, squeaks and songs
As rheems of information unravel the rainbow ribbon,
Unfirling a magic carpet,
As we ride high,
For clowns learn to speak in tounges,
Whisper messages in silence,
Finding the gap between our thoughts,
To see we are all universal.

We are here on earth for a short time,
The clown is a magical figure,
The jester is an ancient archetype,
For the clown is a unique character,
Jumping out of the box,
For a unique personality is hidden in every prop,
Testing the boundaries of conformity,
Breaking the rules of unquestioned beliefs,
For those who rule others cannot help but break
into smiles in relief,
For even they cannot resist the humour of the fools,
As the fool is in the mirror of truth
appearing spontaneously in every moment,
In search of love,
For this is the search light that is shone brightly,
That is wild and free,
That can see beyond appearances,
That notices the slightest glances,
To see the magic of a new galaxy born
of swirling mystery which is …
The spiral of your life,
Unfurling your magnificent Self.

So we laugh,
We pretend to cry,
We shine,
We hide,
Colours are dancing around our bells,
As the heart is singing,
We come to greet all persons witho9ut fear or favour,
For no-one is excluded when the ego has left the room,
Only humility stays and plays with all without agenda,
That sees no gender,
No power,
No specialiness,
For it is the moment that is special,
It is the smile that is priceless,
It is the eyes that never lie,
That is the real disguise,
When we love for no reason.

A cacophony of noise and merriment,
We arrive in a fanfare of amusement and intrigue,
For the festival is the carnival of life giving all an excuse,
To stop what they are doing,
And simply be,
Free to enjoy the moment.

For to be a clown,
Is the dream that comes true,
My friends all knew the moment of this transition,
For all were inspired to this artform,
For there is no job description,
Just an indescribably joy,
For work flies out the window of pain,
Leaving a voice of potentialities that are infinite,
And this is the life form that has no form in flight,
That knows only art as information,
For art is re-creation,
Transforming to see first
reaCtion into Creation,
An alchemy of pure gold,
And as we create the world in our own image,
Imagine the world we create,
It is one of gross national happiness,
Finding real wealth in joy,
Transactions are rewarded through giving,
Seeing all others as myself,
For what I give them returns to myself,
And the magic of the moment is that there is no control,
There is no role,
Only a moment of organised chaos,
That requires no payment,
When the gift is love,
When the eys are not cunning but kind,
For in this world the blind can see,
And they set each other free,
To believe
in goodness.

The old paradigm no longer exists,
It is in the past,
The reflection of fear still lingers for some,
For they are still seeing their shadow and calling it the other,
As the puppet was on strings,
A string theory of chaos,
For the new world finds joy in puppets,
Where they are used to interact in unity,
To rediscover your own purity,
To bring others out of themselves,
For the inside is the outside you see,
To provide a channel to articulate what you mean,
To find a voice in a choice,
Moving you from fear to love,
As it feels good to be the dove,
Always the jester chooses truth,
And this is roof of love,
The metaphorical white gloves,
Demonstrating a sleight of hand,
A show and tell of renewable magic tricks,
Revealing the illusion
not the smile,
For when you sit with this awhile,
You will find a gentle smile emerge in recognition,
Like a rising sun on the verge of a reconciliation,
A breakthrough,
For the eyes are always kind,
When one reminds all that we are one,
And this is the fun,
When others don’t get,
The joke r,
For this is the wild card in the deck,
That you decide what it means,
For always jokers are mirrors
Reflecting the physical or the Self,
For this depends on your eyes,
Seeing what you think on reflection,
Of feeling the formless,
Beyond the universe of your

Mohandas Gandhi

“You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”


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