Singing the Sacred Clown

Uzume: Stripper Goddess and Sacred Clown

Once upon a time, the Japanese sun goddess Amaterasu had a fight with her brother. I don’t remember exactly what the fight was about, probably one of those sibling conflicts that feels monumental at the time, and in retrospect is revealed to be a mere trifling.

But at the time, Amaterasu didn’t find it a trifling. She was so upset that she hid away in a cave, denying the earth her life-giving light. The other gods and goddesses saw the impact of Amaterasu’s tantrum. They surrounded the cave, cajoling her to come back out and save the earth. Their efforts were to no avail.

That is until the goddess Ame No Uzume reached the scene. She quickly saw that the prodding and pleading was having no effect. So, she instructed the others to bring a mirror and put it at the mouth of the cave. Then she climbed onto a rock, opened her robe to bear her naked flesh to all. When she began dancing and gyrating with all her naughty bits swinging in rhythm, the other gods and goddesses couldn’t help but laugh at her antics.

The laughter piqued Amaterasu’s curiosity, and she came to the edge of the cave to see what was happening. When she reached the mirror, her own splendor was revealed. For a brief moment, she stood in awe. That moment was just enough for the other gods to grab her and pull her out of the cave.

Uzume as Sacred Clown

I appreciate Uzume and her particular brand of sacred clown energy. When life has thrown me curveballs, I usually don’t want someone cajoling me and assuring me that it’s really okay. I don’t even want simpering sympathy. I want a friend who will help me see the ridiculousness of it all. To make me laugh and see my own splendor and pull me out of the funk. I want Uzume.

Uzume’s magic is the magic of the sacred clown, a divine being who shares many attributes with the Trickster (about whom I’ve previously written in this blog). But where the Trickster teaches humans about our own foibles through his antics, the sacred clown’s main goal is to make us laugh.

Laughing Little Gods

Laughter shifts our perspective and taps into our younger self.

Laughing Little Gods was a song originally written by Alane Crowomyn for a ritual honoring the different phases of a god. The Divine Boy verse was written for that ritual. Later, Donna Pauline and Alane sat in a hotel room playing with new music, and Alane captured a rough recording of Donna singing this song.

As the Crow Women started working on the Pantheon album, Alane had added the maiden goddess verse and had our studio magician Doug Eagle retrieve the original vocals from Donna and make them usable for a full recording. I had the honor of voicing the maiden and layering a round with the young god and youthful laughter.

(Editor’s note: Find the Pantheon: Honoring the Pagan Divine album on bandcamp.)

A women in a yellow dress and crown of flowers lifts her head in laughter. — Donna Pauline in “peals of laughter, shouts of wild joy.”

I felt a wave of emotions in the studio when suddenly Donna’s voice resounded in my ear. Between that original rough track in the hotel room and our recording sessions for Pantheon, Donna crossed the rainbow bridge. I’d been listening and practicing with the recording. But singing along in the car while running errands was nothing like having that voice piped directly into my brain through the studio headphones. (And if you know anything about Donna Pauline, you know what I mean by That Voice.)

Then, in my moment of grief, the song allowed me to laugh. I embodied the “maiden full of sacred laughter, happiness as big as the world.” Because happiness and grief can share space, and each enriches the other. This is perfectly exemplified in those moments after the funeral when friends and family gather to share memories—often humorous and even somewhat irreverent—about a departed loved one.

Uzume: Goddess of Mirth, Netsuke from Raymond and Frances Bushell Collection, Los Angeles County Museum of Art

Lessons of the Sacred Clown

Clearly, the energy of the god in their childhood phase is different from the more mature humor and bawdiness of Uzume. But they share much that aids that shift in perspective:

Playfulness—Life is too serious to be taken seriously. The sacred act of play promotes creativity, opens one to joy, and boosts connection with others.
A lack of inhibition—Kids and elders are the best! Imagine all you could accomplish if you didn’t care what others thought.
Willingness to be seen—Uzume didn’t play it small. She didn’t hide in the background. She saw something needed to be done and was willing to put herself out there to do it.

But do you know what else shifts your perspective and releases your inner child and ticks the boxes above? Songs and chants!

Unfortunately, the Crow Women don’t have a chant to Uzume (YET!!!). But we do have songs that embody her spirit. From fan favorite Away Ye Merry Lasses (written by Georje Holper) to silliness like We Are the Witches and Bring Me a Pagan Man, we love to incorporate that spirit of the sacred clown into our musical practice.

However, all song allows us to be in that space. Next time you join in chant (whether it be in your car in rush hour traffic or at a huge pagan festival), allow the divine spirit of Uzume and the child deities to lead you. Have fun with song. Sing big and loud and proud, regardless of how confident you feel in your voice. Strip off your clothes and dance the circle round (maybe save that one for the pagan festival and NOT rush hour traffic).

You, too, can embody the sacred clown.

To see Tara’s collected articles here on Pagan Song, visit her author page.

Featured image is triptych Origin of the Cave Door Dance, Shunsai Toshimasa, 1889

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