Life at the Circus

This weekend I went with my dear friend, her husband and their four-year-old son to the Circus (Like, the real Barnum and Bailey variety circus- not some second rate imitation.) I’m not sure I’ve ever actually been to the circus before, to be honest. And it was an interesting afternoon.

Now, some parts of the circus sorta lose their luster on the adults in the crowd- clowns squirting water from big plastic flowers on their lapels combined with lots of falling down jokes…yeah, not really that funny. Magic tricks where people are sawed in half while simultaneously having daggers of fire plunged directly into their hearts…um, wow? (My friend actually turned to me at one point to ask “Has the circus always been this violent?” Having never been before I had no frame of reference for response…but I’m guessing yes? It was bad enough that the theme music played in the background the *entire* time was a Latin dance mix with the constantly repeating lyrics “Don’t try this at home.”)

Trapeze artists were good for sure (but then, I just got back from seeing a Cirque show in Vegas, so comparatively…eh?). And who doesn’t love the animal parade? (Actually, I’ll tell you who doesn’t love the animal parade: The animal cruelty protesters outside the circus. I’m all for freedom of expression…and the humane treatment of animals, but somewhere in my heart, I think these animals are probably living the dream. Safe place to sleep each night? Plenty of food? Treated like movie stars? I don’t know- maybe I’m just naïve or have seen Madagascar one too many times, but protesting seemed excessive.) At any rate, it’s always entertaining to see two-ton elephants standing on hind legs and white tigers only moments away from tearing their prey (the trainer) to pieces (Tactfully abstaining from Sigfried and Roy joke here…. ).

And of course, what modern day circus would be complete without plastic toy vendors and carny food peddlers joining forces to put a dent in your retirement fund in seemingly small yet summarily ghastly doses? Who DOESN’T need a plastic light up battery operated $8 sippy cup filled with snowcone? (Think about it people…it’s flavored ice and plastic.) I digress.

However, there was one part of the show that I was duly impressed by- that for a moment allowed me to capture the childish amazement of the circus. This was the two Russian twins (Zena and Tina or some such thing) that were fabled to be able to be shot out of a canon (a canon!), skim the roof of the big top, and land clear across the whole room onto the large inflatable mattresses at the far end of the arena. I sat there, not believing it would be possible- looking for the illusion, or the gag, or the body double. And as these two ladies willingly crawled into the barrels of these enormous pressure-filled human catapults, I tried to analyze it all.

“There’s no way they’re actually gonna do it.”

“The trajectory is all wrong. If it’s real, they aren’t gonna land on the mats. They’re gonna go straight through the roof.”

“No way this happens. It’s gotta be an illusion- where’s the body double?”

In a room full of screaming children, the entire big top hushed for just a moment. The women disappeared down into the long metal tubes; the countdown began.

Five…four…three…two…one….Boom.

I think every single person in the room stopped breathing for just that second.

Watching…waiting…anticipating…heart racing a little more than a jaded-skeptical-adult-jolted-by-nothing would care to admit. And then there they went. No strings. No body doubles. No illusions. Two woman shot straight out the end of the double barreled canons, gracefully spreading their arms as if flying, skimming the top of the big top as promised, and coming to a comfortable, soft, and predictable landing right in the middle of the air mattresses just as was advertised would happen. The crowd roared.

I couldn’t stop thinking that this is a bit of a metaphor for me right now. I have so many proverbial balls in the air currently (I was going to make a juggling joke…but I’m feeling restraint this evening) that I sort of feel like I’ve voluntarily placed myself in the barrel of a canon…waiting for the pressure behind me to explode and launch me unpredictably into the big top while everybody watches. And right now I’m really into analyzing all the ways that it just isn’t possible- can’t feasibly work- searching for the body double- hoping it’s all an illusion.

But I think what I learned from these ladies at the circus is that perhaps I need to shut off the brain for just a moment and have a little faith-- Faith that I’ll land just where I need to, that I really am on target, and that I really am going to be just fine. And so maybe, just maybe, I should embrace the circus that is my life right now- jump on in feet first, wait for the big bang and then close my eyes, spread my arms, enjoy the flight, and then (met with thunderous applause!) I’ll land where I belong . (Spandex, bedazzled, hot-pink body suit optional.)