Yesterday, I sat on the board, gazing out over the meadow where our trapeze stands. A gentle breeze rustles the palm fronds as the waves caress the sand where the ocean and beach meet. It's beautiful. A complete feeling of peace and calm has overtaken me. The world looks different from 24 feet in the air, you know?
A little girl runs by. I recognize her from earlier in the day. She was all nice and clean then. Now, she has paint all over her dress and her face as she proudly carries the vase she painted. It has one flower in it. Probably for her mom.
"Hi Allie," I yell down.
"Hi, Sunny," she replies, squinting into the sun to see me. "See my vase? It's for my mom!"
"It's beautiful," I tell her because it is. There's paint outside the lines and it looks like abstract art, but she's 8.
"Are you going to do a trick?" inquiring minds want to know.
"Not right now, kiddo, but if you come back tomorrow, I'll teach you a new one!"
"Cool!! I'll see you tomorrow."
I've been here a while. The people change but the routine stays the same. It's amazing how people are impressed with the way we are so "intuitive". When you see the same things day in and day out for months on end, you just know.
I really can't sit still for much longer. The sun is baking me an even more golden brown as it turns the ends of my locs the most wonderful copper color. I wish I could get it all that color, but the sun just doesn't work that fast. My mind starts racing with thoughts only found in the chalk and tape-encrusted back corners of the head of a circus GO.
It's just a quickie.
No one is here yet.
So what if someone sees you, you work here.
It isn't showing off.
You need the practice.
Stop being a wussy!
You see, I've been working my way up to this moment. I've got the static trapeze down pat. It doesn't move, hence the name, and the ease in which I picked it up. I'm a madwoman under the tent. Upside-down, right-side up, forwards, backwards, flip, spin, twist. No problem. It's only 6 feet off of the ground with a 18 inch crash mat underneath. It might hurt if I fall, but I won't get hurt.
Ever since the last mid-air collision, I've been hesitant to try again. Hesitation is not for circus GOs. We are the few, the proud, but not the Marines. People vacation here just to train with us. There's no time to be a baby. We are invincible.
It's getting late and the others will be here soon. It's now or never. They know that I've stepped it down a notch. They're disappointed and they try not to let it show, but I can see it. I've had that same look in my eye.
I know that it's time to (up)rise to the occasion. I stand and try to collect my thoughts. I walk(fly) through the trick in my mind. My hands are shaking and sweaty. As I reach into the chalk bag, I tell myself that I can do it. I didn't go through all of this waiting and torture to not be able to do this.
I can do it.
I can do it.
I can do it.
Swing the bar.
I can do it.
I can do it.
Grab the bar.
I can do it.
Cowboy the riser.
I can do it.
I'm listo.
Ready. Hep.
Nowhere else on earth does seven seconds take this long.
I drive my legs back in an effort to create velocity. Don't bend your knees. As I bring them forward and drive them up, I think about getting my feet into the clouds. Feet in front! Another drive backwards in the back end of my swing. I'm back near the board and closing in on the moment of truth.
I try my best to 'float' myself up onto the bar and while I make it, I don't float. I've always been a power flyer, but never a very graceful one. I have less than two seconds to make my move. It's go time.
I bend myself in half over the bar and I launch myself up and over in a little ball. I've surprised myself. I open from the ball, spot the net, and half-turn safely into it, landing on my back.
I truly am invincible! It's such a rush that I climb right up and do it again. I've become so engrossed in my flying that I don't even notice that people are watching. (And why should I care if they are? They get a show on Wednesday night anyways.) More importantly, I don't notice that my teammates have arrived. They sit quietly and watch me work out my issues. You might think they should offer up commentary, but they know what's best. I throw my forward over twice more before I get tired. The adrenaline rush is massive. I'm estatic. I'm throwing this in the show. I love my job.
PS. I know that most of you won't know what the heck this was about so there's a video. It isn't me but I can't post mine from work. I'll replace it later.
Update: Now it's me.
No comments:
Post a Comment