Trust—The Ultimate Feat
I’m coming off an incredible and incredibly busy week, filled with Circus Smirkus. My son is in his 4th and final summer of touring with this stupendously talented and hard working group of young artists and athletes, and so each year I spend a good chunk of time marketing for the Hanover shows, hosting kids, feeding them, driving them, being entertained by them, occasionally reminding them that they need to sleep. And along the way getting some precious time with Liam, which is reason enough to do everything my husband and I do to help make Hanover a great place to perform. I also work at the shows. All but one this year, in Hanover. Which means I watch almost every one.
I continue to be amazed at the physical feats, the prowess and strength, skill and daring. But this year I was struck and moved by the incredible bonds of trust that hold the performers together, even more than the impressive display. They trust each other in the ring, to not let someone drop, to catch each other in the air, to support each other in every way. The clowns, too, trust each other. To have that impeccable timing that makes or breaks a gag, to watch each other for cues.
Liam’s favorite part of performing as a clown is actually improvisation which—without the trust to follow a thread with another performer—can simply fall flat. To perform with courage and commitment you also have to trust the audience. The jugglers have to trust each other to watch intently, in order to catch and pass. It is the crucial ingredient of every single act.
I found myself watching the evidence of this web of trust after about the 4th show, even more than the performance itself. And what I saw is that the key to trust is generous, unflagging focus. Focus that is given 100% from person to person, person to audience, person to group. And person to self.
I’ve pondered in the past how, though I love circus, I am uncomfortable with its sometime comparison with the physical practice of yoga. Because, ultimately circus is about entertaining; Yoga is not. The older I get, and the more yoga is displayed in show-offy splendor in the media, the colder the display leaves me. If I want to ooh and aah at the body pushed to its limits I think the circus is a more fitting arena.
On the other hand, I’ve had my breath taken away watching a yoga student simply uncurl their fingers in a pose, or quietly stretch a leg straight. Or even take a deep breath. Literally broken out in inexplicable goosebumps.
While I have certainly been entertained by this year’s circus shows, I have been absolutely riveted watching the way trust informs every moment in the ring, I am tempted to look once again at the two entities, yoga and circus, side by side, and draw comparison.
Obviously, if you are doing yoga partner work, trust is essential. But what about the trust to be led by your instructor? The trust required to roll out your mat the first time, in a room full of strangers? And most importantly, the trust you place in yourself to venture through a class or a practice and be open to whatever happens? And the tremendous focus that you build in with that trust? Savasana, witnessed from the outside, is as powerfully moving to me as watching a circus performer flung to the heavens while practiced hands ready themselves to catch her. It’s a kind of magic. I see in those quiet, still bodies the breathtaking beauty of trusting and letting go. And that is as potent as circus magic.
