As you know, according to my last entry, I recently went through a painful break-up. As a result, I wanted to do something that made me feel alive, strong, powerful and present. The obvious choice? High-flying Trapeze of course. I had done it once before and remembered that I never wrote about it so, I figured I would kill two birds with one knee-hang suspended 40 feet in the air.
I will, for brevity sake, not go into the details of how they prep you on a static trapeze first or the lump of fear that arises in your throat as you climb the ladder up to the platform (“Don’t look down!” Puh-leeze. Anyone who ever shouts this to you while you are 40 feet in the air, is clearly a masochist. Because as soon as you hear “don’t look down!” Guess where the first place you look is…)
I won’t discuss that feeling of your empty bladder for some reason fooling your brain into thinking that you have to urinate the very moment they tell you to lean out over that empty space of…well…space, 30 feet over a net, being held only by a circus performer with his fingers hooked into your belt. Nor will I describe the deafening blood-curling scream released as one flies through the air, sans aircraft, for the first time in their life.
No. That’s not what I’m going to mention. What I want to tell you is about “The Catch.” That first time when, swinging by your knees into space, you lock eyes with your catcher and you grab each others wrists. I had been told that I would become addicted to high-flying trapeze the moment I tried the catch, and, while I loved every minute of it…they were right. My addiction came that moment that our hands grasped each others wrists, and my body automatically trusted another human being enough to release the bar that kept me attached to the rig. That moment. It’s like time stops and all there is in the world… is that moment. There is no pain, no drama, no fear…just trust.
The flight of it is fun for sure and the fear is a rush. But nothing compares to being so powerfully present that the world concedes to one moment.
And that’s all we have. A moment. One single moment in time where we can either trust that we will be caught and fly forward, or allow a fear of falling keep us from letting go. Flying trapeze: the great metaphor for life.
Regardless, I’m going again and I’m going to enjoy screaming through the air with the greatest of ease.
Much Love,
Kerry Anne
P.S. For more information about Flying Trapeze in Los Angeles, contact Hollywood Aerial Arts at 310.412.7171.
