Flying Happy, Joyous, & Free

“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life…”—Anne Lamott (Bird by Bird)

Yesterday, in trapeze class, I worked on my layout—a straight body somersault that is an intermediate trick and the foundation for most advanced tricks. To accomplish the layout, ideally I should sweep (break) under the bar, then let momentum pull me up into a handstand, at which point I would release the bar. Ideally. For me, what usually happens is I sweep under the bar, go into a blackout, release the bar at some point, usually before hitting the handstand, and then come to after landing in the net. Years ago, at Trapeze Arts in Oakland, I did my layouts without safety lines, catching and even returning some of them. But the layout was always a mysterious, capricious trick. Sometimes my layouts were okay, sometimes not, and I rarely understood what I was doing either way. Yesterday, at Circus Warehouse in New York, I had a series of Aha moments with my layouts. It was thrilling: I saw my pink painted toes stretching up to the ceiling. I was in a handstand, conscious, awake, aware in the air.

I am not and never will be a great flying trapeze artist. I am not a natural. I am not young. I am not a quick learner. I am not fearless. Despite the best coaching in the amateur world—Trapeze Arts, TrapezePro in Sonoma, TSNY, and the incomparable Miguel Caceres at Circus Warehouse—I struggle with basics. My takeoff and swing are mediocre on a good day. I make the same mistakes over and over. I bend my legs, I rush, I let go of the bar and catcher too early. And yet, I usually catch and return my tricks, going back to the platform. The number one thing trapeze has taught is that things can go horribly wrong and still turn out okay.

The perfectionist in me screams, okay is not good enough. My perfectionist self watches my videos, cringing. That part of me shouts: I should be better. My legs should be straighter, my body should be tighter in the air. My returns should be higher. The perfectionist in me kills all the joy, tells me to do better or quit. Every week after class, I battle that perfectionist, who sometimes triggers obsession: If I take more classes, I’ll get better. If I watch videos of good flyers, I’ll get better. Yesterday, despite my success with the layout, my perfectionist came raging at me. My angel returns were wonky. My half-turn was loose. All that’s true. But, this is true too: I am progressing, sometimes one step up, two steps back. But anything I practice I am bound to get better at over time. That’s just the way life works. The perfectionist doesn’t allow for the magic of time: Things I May Enjoy.

Today, I have a message for my perfectionistic self: Fuck You.

Next week, when I go to trapeze, I’m leaving that perfectionist home. She’s a bitch, and I’m way sick of her.

Next week, I’m going to remember this: I want to get better at trapeze, and I want to enjoy the process. That’s the key to flying happy, joyous, and free!