Yesterday I went to see Cirque Du Soleil’s Amaluna at the National Harbor MD. The show was as I expected; delightful. I grinned and clapped for most of the 2 hour breathtaking event.
As I watched the drama unfold, I wondered how many of the kids in the audience would be swinging from curtains to mimic the acrobats, or juggling balls against their bodies or sliding down whatever looked like a pole, when they got home. I knew that the see-saws at the parks were officially now the most dangerous plaything and that registrations for dance and gymnastic classes would exponentially increase.
I pondered about the number of bumps and bruises, the increase in ER visits and the broken bones that would happen over the weekend.
As the second half of the show began, I realized that I was thinking like an adult, with barriers, limitations and disaster waiting to happen. Each kid in that audience knew in their tiny hearts that they could fly through the air. Every on-stage movement was theirs for mimicking, each act an invitation for adventure and evidence that the improbable is possible.
Where I saw impending danger, kids saw newness, where I saw broken bones they saw fearless accomplishment. Oh to be a kid, to have the wonderlust, to believe that I can do anything and to keep the fantasies alive.
I don’t wonder when my transition happened, I know that the magic of kid-like belief leaked out over the years from teenager to adult. When I was a kid I lived in a constant daydream, now I have to clear space for random thoughts to pop up. Clarity of purpose seemed to have chased the dreams away.
The price of growing up is often paid with our dreams and hopes. We learn to suck it up, count our blessing and to be practical. We trade daydreams for action plans, fantasies for accomplishments and dreams for practicalities.
Over the years, I have had to make a conscientious effort to believe the impossible. I have actively prompted dreams out from the recesses of my mind and chased them together until they took form. I keep my dreams in play even as I live the reality of earning the daily bread. Once a week, I take time out from my pragmatic adult self to linger in the realm of the impractical. I revel in the moments, when I am alone and think illogical and nonsensical thoughts that I often do not share.
In the Big Tent I resolved to keep my inner kid alive and to stomp on the doom and gloom whenever they raise their heads. I know in my heart that next summer I am going to be the drummer at Cirque du Soleil.