In moving to a new place (CO) and starting a new job (AmeriCorps), it is hard to keep a lot of things constant. Routines are abandoned and habits become memories. It is a kind of test, a way to determine what you find important in your life, what you are willing to sacrifice and fight for. I'm not surprised by most of the things that I've managed to retain, but there is one action that I'm always baffled at -- juggling. I picked up juggling about a year ago when I found out that my little brother, Andrew (age 20, slightly skinnier clone of Franklin), could juggle. It took me days to learn, but after I picked it up, I was gone forever. In Spain, I learned some tricks and formed friendships that were largely based upon juggling. Saw some crazy clown shows, watched circus men juggle flaming knives, and learned that I know almost nothing about the art. When I got back to the USA, I bought some juggling clubs and went to a juggling club here in CO. I think that I now finally have glimpsed the mountain of juggling and realized how imposssibly far it is up to the top, full of lightning-quick hands, strange jargon, even stranger objects, and my jaw hanging agape most of the time.
But that is okay -- I'm fine with marvelling at people so much better than me. Yet, it is still something that I enjoy coming back to, find myself unknowingly picking up the balls and messing around. Sometimes I get in weird trances, lost completely in the act, only to awake an hour later with an unexplainable smile on my face. That is what I think draws most people to juggling -- it is an act (or action, who are you really performing for?) that easily allows -- almost forces you -- to focus all of your mind on your hands and the things moving 6 inches in front of your face. No daydreaming or stress permitted. If you start thinking about what you're going to eat for dinner, the balls will drop. And do you really want to drop the balls?
You could draw a line between juggling and meditation -- both focus on nothing else than what is happening at this moment. But I couldn't do it -- juggling has something more that meditation lacks. It is finding peace in action, almost chaos, being able to sustain this weird pattern even though you really have no idea how it works (and lets face it, no one really understands how you get your hands to move and throw the balls in such a perfect pattern over and over again). It is observing a machine move and move and move, and then knowing that you are the machine and you realize wow (but then drop the balls again, because that thought is just another part of the daydream)! For me, my favorite part about juggling is right after I learn a new trick and can do it unthinking. My brain has processed it and all I have to do is put effort into my physical capabilities, focus eyes and hands on the atoms whizzing around and thats it, until maybe a spontaneous laugh comes up from nowhere and I drop the balls, but thats okay because I understand then that the balls will always be in the air, whether you put your hands to them or not.
(I'll put up a video soon)
