Thank you to the poster who inquired about the documentary in my last entry (who left it, by the way?) -- that all seems like a long time ago, but I am still deficient on sleep and struggling to tie up loose ends from our short film. This is Darden, a circus arts performer who lives in the People's Republic of Boulder, and we followed her and her boyfriend (performer/guitarist) Joe for our 7 minute film "Leap".
The two genres the competition released were "Experimental" or "Nature," and the required theme was "Faith". We followed Darden and Joe through their acrobatic acts, Darden's fabric class (one of the
scariest things I've ever seen rehearsed-- where people climb up two 40' strips of fabric, wrap the cloth around their legs and waists a few times, and swan dive straight down with no nets, tiny gym mats, and nothing but fabric between them and death.
I liked the challenge of "Faith"-- a theme that made me cringe, but with trapeze artists on the table as an option to follow, I was excited to follow the theme in a light that had nothing to do with religion, and everything to do with nature and science. Robin, Sarah and I took video and shot still images, and on Sunday afternoon Beth joined us straight from the airport to help us pull the hardest editing session I've ever seen (9am Sunday straight through 9am Monday, when our co-workers were pulling into the parking lot.)
Darden and Joe were a delight to meet and watch for a few days. The're the kind of people who make you feel comfortable from an unspoken trust that they won't drop you-- not on a lift, and not in a judgment of your character. Their strength was astounding, and a wonderful contrast to the gentle tinder of their personalities and voices.
My favorite moment in the interview with Darden was when she said
"the best card I ever got before a show said 'Leap, and the net will appear,' and that's how I try to live my life-- just trust."
It's a quotation that Robin and I had coincidentally discussed months earlier-- how profoundly moving it is to suggest being courageous in that way... to gather ever ounce of courage you have and
leap, not simply let go or step off, but
leap into the void that scares you, only to have the net appear before your eyes. Some strange things have come up in the past weeks, and some frustrating circumstances, and tonight I'm curled into my couch in sweats trying to recover from the events of the weekend, wondering how and when in my life I've been capable of such a leap of faith.
They're the scariest ones-- the moments when you look down at your bare toes on the platform, and the only thing you see below you is darkness. Every instinct in your body cries for a safety catch-- another rehearsal before the performance, another number you consider keeping in your phone
just in case that person were to call one more time with something meaningful to say, another question to a friend, seeking reassurance that you're on firm ground with each other. And then when you almost can't take the fear, you bend at the knees, push off from the balls of your feet, and trust that your momentum-- your heart, your understanding of the world, your instincts and your confidence-- will carry you through the darkness and toward that glorious swinging bar of the trapeze, as a thousand strands of netted fabric emerge below you.
It's ironic that this is what's going through my head right now. Yesterday started at 5:30 when my alarm went off for a video shoot that Beth and I were doing at the P.F. Chang's in Loveland. I dashed home afterwards to shower and catch a bus to Denver, met up with Sarah and her friends as well as Beth's crew and Tom, and we all went out for a long day and evening of St. Patty's festivities. I went outside my boundaries with the drinking accidentally yesterday-- control is extremely important when booze is involved, and losing portions of the night or doing things that I would
not do while sober is not acceptable to me, ever. Today was not a good one... hurting from the drinking and the anxiety has really got me down.
I quit half of my job on Friday-- tomorrow I have to tell several of my superiors that our company no longer has a head copywriter. I'm really, really sad that I had to let that aspect of my job go-- I busted my ass for a year just to get bitchsnitted (ah, dad's words always come in handy) in the clusterf*ck that is my working relationship with certain higher-ups in my work life. I'm anxious about my dad's health this spring, anxious about the stability of meaningful relationships in my life right now, and tired of anxiety.
In the circus arts of life, there are incredibly difficult stunts that we must perform in a way that makes them look effortless, fluid, and joyous. The equipment is extremely uncomfortable and unpredictable, but you have to make them work for you, not against you. The trapeze, fabric, the hoop and the tightrope are incredibly challenging arts that we must learn to do alone-- to fall from, to soar from, to find a balance between ourselves and the challenges we face in a given moment. Gravity will always be there pulling, and it is a feat of nature to convince your body that you-- one entity in time and space-- can control your balance, your success, and your courage to lift your arms away from your body and out into the void.
Truthfully, I think it's a beautiful metaphor for life-- leap, and the net will appear. So much of our lives is about relationships-- friendships, love, lust, family ties-- the push and pull between us and the people who make up our experiences. But the circus arts require that you find strength within yourself-- hard, resiliant, unquestioning strength-- to make your own leaps before you can trust that balance with someone else. Acrobatics are based on unspoken communication between partners, including the faith that you will be able to hold your own to ensure another's safety, that you will put yourself at risk just enough to learn the important lessons, and that you will understand when the stakes are too high, and you must do something to protect yourself and the person you're balancing with.
Yesterday, I made some regrettable decisions when I was vulnerable, and someone pushed me to make them. Friday, I quit a position that I valued because I felt pulled into an environment that I didn't want to be in.
Balance and strength are crucial elements of faith-- two things that I need to keep working on to solidify in my life. At the moment I have a few knots in my liver and a few knots in my heart, but like anything else, I hope that I'll be able to I look back to see which weak spots I pulled at to create them in the first place.
