I met Rachel as Doris at a “Mind, Body, Spirit” festival in Manchester. I was undergoing radiotherapy treatment and was searching for healing. I was disgruntled because nothing seemed to help and was about to leave when I spotted a crazy- looking charlady with a mop and bucket at the smallest stand in the festival (no bigger than a cupboard).

“What on earth do you do?” I asked. “Stand around and talk to people like you, Luv” she retorted. “Want to buy my Doily News? She handed me a doily. Ten minutes later, I was laughing but was no wiser about the nature of Doris’s work. “I have to go and I still don’t know what you do” I began to walk away. “Here!” she said thrusting a card into my hand. “I am running a course in the Lake district for a GP, why don’t you come? The card sat on my dresser and seemed to call to me. Eventually, I telephoned the GP and there was a space for me on a weekend course in December 2005 towards the end of my radiotherapy course. “I will need a laugh” I thought. I received laughter and so much more.
As our clown guide, Rachel set us free to laugh, play and be totally spontaneous. The play became a therapy for some people, who were able to release emotions of grief, guilt and hurt. I had never laughed and cried so much. It was magical, I wanted more of the laughter and play but wasn’t sure about the therapy. Nevertheless I booked on a further short course the following Easter 2006. This time Rachel challenged me into performing solo. I hadn’t a clue what to do and panicked. “Breathe” said Rachel “Don’t think!” What emerged was an honest and funny expression of the battle with an ageing body, which my audience really appreciated.
I got to experience the joy of giving and receiving in communication with an audience. I forgot everything and was fully present to the inner being that performed so spontaneously.

I loved the clowning but was impatient. Everyone seemed to be processing guilt, fear and pain, which we all carry. I had worked with counsellors after my husband’s sudden death and through my cancer treatment; I didn’t want to face any more pain. I was screaming inside. “No more! I’ve been there, done that, got the Tshirt. I don’t want to hear about any more pain. I don’t want to listen!”

Thank God, Rachel did not let me go. She invited me on a year’s course “Playful Presence” I paid in advance for the full amount to ensure that I did not renege. The course began in December 2006 a full year after my first introduction to the “Art of Sacred Clowning.”
The group consisted of 13 very different women, ranging in age from 20 something to 70 something. What on earth could we have in common apart from the fact that we all understood the healing power of laughter?

The first session consisted of more cavorting and prancing about as Rachel led us seamlessly from one activity to another. She intuitively knew when to move us on, challenge us or hold us when we needed support. There was more processing of baggage in the sharing times Members of the group released more and more of the layers that hid their true inner beings.
At that time, I did not realise the importance of this clearing process in discovering the inner clown, who can only help others by reaching through the pain. Again, I was impatient; I wanted to spend more time learning clowning techniques. In the group sharing, my inner thoughts were not very sympathetic. “Why did we have to listen to so much pain? Get over it, move on!”
The second session was similar and although I enjoyed the clowning and getting to know the other members of the group, I held myself back and remained impatient. “Why am I on this course? I’m not a clown. It’s the last thing I want to be” I couldn’t attend the third course. I had to have an operation because I found further lumps in my breast, which the surgeon wanted to investigate. What a shock, I thought I had secondary cancer and knew the implications. I had resisted listening to the pain of my clown colleagues but they heard my pain. They sent me gifts and messages to tell me that my presence would be with them on the course that I could not attend.
On the day of my operation, they made a model of me and they performed their own clown operation. I felt their presence so strongly. The nurses wouldn’t let me wear my red nose to the operating table so I painted a red nose on my paper knickers, which I displayed to the theatre sister and the surgeon. “I am learning the meaning of the word patient” I said. They both laughed and I went to sleep laughing.
The healing vibrations, sent by my clown friends, were magical and I woke up after the operation feeling hungry. I ate a hearty meal in front of astounded patients who were feeling quite sick after a similar operation. They were even more astounded when I walked out of hospital that same day.
That week, I did a 9 mile walk, still stapled together. The following week, I went to have my staples taken out and receive the results of their tests. The surgeon breezed in before I had time to undress. “I haven’t had my stitches out yet” I said. “Doesn’t matter, it’s benign!” he retorted. I gave that great big man a huge clown hug. “Steady on!” he laughed. He wasn’t used to getting so close to his patients. The nurse laughed, “Can I have a hug too, I prayed for you?” “Thank you” I said hugging her. “My clowns prayed too” I felt so supported by all the good wishes and the healing presence of my clown friends. I was floating on air and was so grateful that I had been given my life back. I promised to use my life well.

The feeling of euphoria lasted a week and then I descended into a numb despair .I didn’t know how I could use my life well. What was my purpose? I didn’t have an answer. I had done a lot of searching, read many spiritual books, attended courses, lived in spiritual communities and was still searching for a purpose to my life.
I lead a very full life, I have two children both successful, three delightful grandchildren and many friends. I travel extensively, manage my own successful business and was beginning to take more time to write and paint. I had enrolled on writing courses and at first the creative juices were flowing but now they had dried up. I was emotionally paralysed and angry with myself for being so depressed when I have been so lucky. My tutors were kind. “Take it easy on yourself; you have been through quite a trauma”

The next session of the clown course consisted of a week at the International Clown School in Ibiza, which occurred immediately prior to a walking holiday in Eire. I knew I would have to leave the course early. Yet again, I had crammed my diary without leaving any space.
Again, I asked myself “What am I doing here?” It was difficult to travel to Ibiza so early in the season; there was a five hour wait for a connecting flight at Stansted airport. Normally, I would be impatient but I was glad of that time, which enabled me to re-connect with a couple of members of the clown group also travelling from North to South. We shared our feelings of apprehension. We need not have worried.

The week’s course in Ibiza gave us all the opportunity to grow in confidence, to let go of fears and allow the wonderful beings in each of us to fly! We flew together to Ibiza and we continued to fly together throughout the week. We worked hard in clown school and we played hard in the beautiful villa by the sea that Rachel had booked. We shed our clothes to swim and frolic in the pool and in the sea, which was a particular achievement for me after a disfiguring operation.

I will never forget the evening when we proudly flounced into the pool to the music of Wagner’s “March of the Valkyries. We ate wonderful food, prepared lovingly by Rachel’s friend and we enjoyed an excellent massage given with a whole heart by another of Rachel’s friends. We learned every second from Rachel’s guidance and from each other as we began to understand, appreciate and adapt to our differences and respect the true core of ourselves.

The return journey and the wait in the airport gave me time to reflect on the amazing experiences of a very intensive and hugely transformative week. I came back serene, peaceful and yet energised. I have a huge smile inside me, which I intend to share wherever I am.

At last, I have stopped searching.

At last, know who I am.

I know that all I have to do is be fully present, listen to my inner being and to others and notice what happens because everything that happens teaches us something if we are willing to listen. Most of all I needed to learn to listen and that meant slowing down my busy life, which has always been led by the clock. In my clowning, I threw away the clock and gave myself huge elephant ears so that I never forget to listen.

Rachel was the perfect model. She knew how to listen to her inner guides; she knew how to release us to the truth of ourselves. She noticed the clown in us all even if we didn’t. Patiently and with great sensitivity, she nurtured the clown in every one of us and waited until our confidence grew and we were able to honestly give ourselves in our performance for the old folk in the home in Ibiza. Words are inadequate to express the joy and laughter we experienced in the responses of our audience. I had never experienced such honest connection in my life.

I will never forget the lessons I learned from Rachel and each of the clowns in our group. Such different, talented powerful women, united in their humour, honesty and humility. I want to honour every one of them. I am privileged to belong to our small community of clowns and I suspect that we will fly together many more times.