Down the Road

See you down the road.
It’s what circus people say when they leave. Two hours ago I sent my own homestay group of Circus Smirkus performers—my son one of them—down the road to their next performance site in Essex. The house feels very quiet. There is a lot of laundry to do. I miss Liam. I miss all of them actually….their exuberance, their startling talent, their enthusiasm and hunger for noncircus things: Ashley is a NYtimes junky, Keenan an accomplished filmmaker, Lindsey is the most personable and friendly teenager I’ve yet to encounter. And apparently, my son can eat gelato with his feet (it’s not as gross as it sounds. He holds the spoon with his feet. Yup. Mad skills. Thank you, Pam, and I can’t wait to see the video).

There is a place where yoga and circus meet, in the physical sense, in form. This observation is not altogether comfortable for me, as a yoga teacher. But, given what I do, given what Liam does, I cannot help but ponder the relationship between the two worlds. As beautiful as it is to watch, I worry about what circus contortion does to the body long term. The aerialists do things that make my jaw drop literally, but I also cringe to see some of the extreme shoulder rotations that are part of the acts. Hand balance in circus is a wonder to behold, hundreds of hours of practice make for stunning control and strength and beauty.  But ultimately, what happens in the ring is designed to dazzle and awe, impress and enchant. Circus is magical, and it is entertainment.  It is performance. Yoga is magical too, but it is not performance. One glance at the webiverse however—a staggering flood of yoga images, instagram and facebook, nude yoga shoots and eye catching apparel advertising—and it often feels like yoga, in the west, is nothing but. There is wondrous magic in circus that enthralls us, casts a spell and lifts us from the ordinary and into the realm of the extraordinary, as yoga does. But in yoga, that journey, that transformation, happens internally. Despite what the world of media would have us believe, the real razzle dazzle of yoga is not visible. Even the flashiest yoga pose is a means to an end. And yoga in the physical realm is most powerful when understood as a healing art.

Ultimately, the people who flourish in the world of circus performance excel at what they do in the ring. In yoga, the most advanced practitioners are not necessarily the ones you see doing the showy, spectacular poses. They may be fun to watch, and often very photogenic, and it looks beautiful. The fancy poses are certainly fun to play with, in the studio. But, the “master” in the world of yoga is just as likely someone quietly doing her or his practice, day after day, year after year, with little fanfare. Someone cultivating a deep connection to themselves and to the world around them.

I love circus because I love my son Liam and am thrilled to watch him perform and feel part of a talented, supportive tribe. I love the spectacle, the magic, and the story. I love yoga because it has been a daily, sustaining part of my life for 26 years and is fundamentally a gift that just keeps giving (and one I love to share). The practice of yoga nourishes the very deepest parts of me.

Yoga. Circus. I feel them as distinct practices, art forms, and disciplines. I’m lucky to have a foot (or hand) in both of these worlds.

See you down the road. See you on the mat.