The Circus Diary

THANKFUL

June 7, Surround by the greenest grass

I think the Polish are my heroes.

They have such a difficult job. I mean, they basically do everything.

They set up the ring, sleep around 1am or 2am at the earliest. Up at 6am to set up the tent until 11am or so. Sometimes they sleep for another while, they're up for dinner at 4:30pm, dress for the show, and during it have to carry all the mats, floors and other stuff, and clean up poop and everything else. Then they take everything down, pack it all up, and drive again and I sleep while Pavel drives. All this with fairly good attitudes, all in all I mean. Of course, mostly they're grumpy and seem angry at each other, but they are working constantly. And their language sounds different to me, strange. Maybe I sound strange to them. Maybe I'll get used to it, I think I already am. Maybe, in time, I'll like hearing it and that doesn't seem impossible anymore.

They're mostly nice to me though, even when they move the trailer with the bathrooms when I'm using them on purpose! Just last night they did that, shaking the whole thing, but it's almost worth it to see them laughing at me when I come out. Circus life is really something else.

Though they sometimes pretend to run me over with a truck. That's a something else in all-caps. But it's only scary when the lights are so bright you can't see which way to go or know if there's another truck behind it. I can imagine Mom's frightened, wide eyes when I told her. It's probably much more dangerous than the gentle elephants who really just go out to play every night in the ring.

To sum up: it's crazy to walk around and find my truck before we start the drive to the next platz, but at least I can greet in Polish fairly well.

The Circus is this beautiful reflection of diversity, like a mismatched family that doesn't speak one language, and if they do, it isn't mine.

But the family part...that, I get.

There are Russians, Mexicans, Romanians, Danish (obviously), Hungarians, Poles, clowns, males, females, humans, dogs (a little bald thing that really is an alien, I think), goats, llamas, horses big and small, sea lions, elephants. One of the smaller elephants is actually a bit mad. He swings his head from side to side constantly and even in sync with the music sometimes and never stops. Like, Mad Hatter mad.

Yesterday I watched the four Russian guys doing their gymnastic balancing act backstage and I thought to myself: I deserve a hot, strong guy like this. Strength in his arms to hold me, width in his chest to lean into and be encircled by. I deserve exactly what I want! Nothing less. No bad habits like smoking or drinking or cursing like a sailor. If I can speak using a fair amount of my vocabulary without the f-word for a sentence or so, can't the rest of the world?

And, Dear God, if at all possible, could my true love speak a little English?

But then again, I'm not too demanding. My parents both spoke the same language yet managed to say everything and anything and never enough and nothing. Maybe words are overrated.

The confidence I have now is so much more than I've had before. Like, when I look at myself getting ready, I smile in the mirror. I have confidence to do my job and act serious and long-suffering as I help a clown entertain kids, patience to tolerate distractions (and sometimes enjoy them) without missing a beat. Confidence to laugh if I do make a mistake or trip jumping over the ring. No fear of people watching or scrutinizing me, it doesn't motivate me anymore.

There's just a lot less fear.

Later, Still in the sun

I'm sitting alone behind our trailer during the intermission. It's restful, being still in the middle of all the bustle. I've felt an amazing sense of peace since yesterday. I can't explain it. I still feel it. Everything will be okay. I know it in my heart, deep down in the still center of my being.

We've got a special show coming up soon. The Danish royal family are coming to the show! I could go for royalty. Even the son of a duke would do! Haha!

The kitchen for the Polish was across from Uncle's trailer, which is why I hung around having some spicy kind of herbal tea with him after lunch. It's nice having people around, even if they ignore me and speak a different language. Then I had a nap. My mind had worn itself out thinking. Uncle Victor made pancakes for dinner as a treat, probably because he got a call from my mom. I overheard him reassure her that I'm safe and not upset from talking with Dad a few days ago. It's nice that he cares about me. It's more than nice getting to know him, he's actually pretty funny and has lots of fun stories about his years in the Circus.

June 8, 8am, Drinking hot cocoa with a dash of the nutmeg I found in the back of Uncle's kitchen cupboard

I don't have a broken heart anymore. I had one, before. But isn't that what matters? If you can make something beautiful out of something painful?

Something better is coming, I can feel it.

It's not officially summer and I'm already used to endless sunshine. Who knew Denmark had such beautiful weather? It makes me feel brighter, like the light is filling my heart and my body and my soul and I just want everyone to be loved. I feel beautiful.

Yesterday when I was outside journaling (surprise, surprise), Ivan came around the far side of the tent and talked with me. He mentioned going out together again, and I asked him if he could just forget about this and he said he wouldn't forget, because I'm so beautiful.

Doesn't he realize beauty is skin deep!?

Last night I sat on a blanket on the ground, watching the tent come down, and I was overheated from a hot day but still a bit chilly in the shade. It would have been a perfect moment to have someone's arms wrapped around me. A moment I didn't have. So, I was a bit cold.

I was up early again this morning because my trailer was parked right beside the tent and at 7am they're drilling tent poles into the ground.

June 9, After the show watching the tent come down

When the sun shines like this...wow, this the most beautiful evening ever! There's a feeling like my skin is tingling that connects to my heart. I feel, for the briefest of moments, a certainty. Within that very real stillness, a silent joy. I feel it. All around.

Love. It's love, and it's beautiful. It surrounds us and is waiting for us to give it a home in our hearts.

Write to know. Well, then, will I know about myself ever? Because after all these years of writing in a diary, I don't really understand why I do the things I do. But maybe it's so my granddaughter will know.

Sometimes the prospect of life seems so, well,exciting.