I’m approaching today’s post with a blank slate after a full weekend. Antique show? Check. Book Fair? Check. Vintage Clothing Show? Check. (and I now own a new old dress to boot!) Cirque Du Soleil’s Allegria and a dinner date with my husband? Check. Any room left in my brain for coherent thought? Nope.
But the show was awe-inspirng. I’ve seen several Cirque du Soleil shows, and I never tire of them. The artistry and skill is topnotch on every level – and it’s clear the performers are having a blast doing what they do. We were only feet away from the stage this time: I could feel the heat from the flames of the flame throwers and the smell of the fire, feel the wind when the acrobats landed in the nets, and I could literally return their smiles. Most unusually, I could also see the grimace of pain as the contortionist’s shoulder popped out of it’s socket and she expertly popped it back into place. Then she flawlessly finished her act. Shocking. Amazing. It changed my thoughts from that twinge of jealousy for the performer’s grace and power to the clear reminder: to be good at anything requires real work and real pain. Kind of ironic considering today’s post is being written without any forethought or planning. Does it count as pain if I’m writing it at 11:30 PM the night before? Mini violins anyone?
Plus, I have my own little tiny itsy witsy bit of “ownership” in Cirque. My little inside story. I wanted to hear Allegria again live. I hear the same tune from my own pull musical design – Musabee – accompanying Birdie’s every single nap time since she was born. I still love the tune and all the memories of designing the toy, but it’s obviously better in person with a full band and a real singer.
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