It's one of those warm summer days. As far as summers go, this one is the hottest ever recorded (yet), but this day was not unbearably hot. It's pleasant. Men are happy showing off their calves in shorts, while women wear their stylish summer dresses and crop tops.
I'm sitting in a park at a festival. Kids are running around and playing while adults gather in beach-style chairs, sipping their cold drinks and beers, in this park located in the city of Ghent, where I live. I pick up and sip my strawberry daiquiri, which is as sweet and delicious as only summer strawberries can be.
The Gentse Feesten is a yearly happening that started in 1843 and was only skipped twice: during COVID and WWI years (don't ask me how they partied during WWII; I have no idea).
An entire week of summer is dedicated to it. It is the perfect time for a party in a city with more than 40,000 university students. And it is a party: live music, drinking, dancing, and even a Latin stage where I can enjoy dancing and marvel at how Belgians can be so stiff while salsa-ing. The Feesten is also very cultural. There are street musicians and artists, art exhibitions, theaters, and circuses. Which brings me back to me sipping my strawberry daiquiri in the park.
There I was, seeing the park getting filled with people. By the second, it was becoming crowded. People kept coming and coming, sitting on the ground in the grass in front of us and in front of a stage. I said to my partner, "I have no idea what is going to happen, but it must be good. Let's stay and wait."
A group of around six young people appeared and entered the stage. First, they performed a piece of music. The music was fine, but it couldn't really explain the build-up to what I calculated was around 5 thousand people standing and sitting there.
Then a woman came down from the stage to a trapeze centered in the middle of the crowd. A group of what seemed like volunteers kept raising her higher and higher while we all gasped. She swung, jumped, pirouetted, and hung from her hands, or just one hand, at a height of at least 7 meters.
I've seen many trapeze shows before, and I was even lucky enough to attend Cirque de Soleil once. But this was different. The equipment, safety guards, and nets were almost nonexistent. We were in a park, after all! Additionally, the performers and their equipment were suspended above the heads of the audience while being totally encircled by them.
There was no distance between the public and the artists, and I guess that's what made it special. This night, we were all a part of it—children, adults, the elderly—we could all take part in the show. Get up on the trapeze, be lifted by the artists, lift ourselves on the shoulders of our friends, be jumped over, help pull up the trapeze to swing the artists up, and be up on the stage.
It was a collective show, guaranteed by our proximity to the artists and equipment. The braver the artists seemed to be, throwing themselves up and down in what seemed a very unreliable set, the braver the public also got.
I couldn't help but feel more courageous as the show ended. The collective energy and fearlessness of the artists and the public left an impression on me. The idea of not being afraid draws us in.
It's weird that "the most intelligent species on the planet" would choose to put itself constantly in danger, right? Why swing, jump, and throw yourself from a height that could kill you and the people sitting under you?
Maybe it's exactly because we have the option to choose to do so. The trapeze is a way of looking death in the eye and facing our biggest fear, the one that paralyzes us. As I looked at the woman swinging, I felt fear for her. I was worried she would fall. However, I also felt envy for how freeing it looked to be swinging high, seeming to fly, and being a bird, even if just for a moment.
Fear seems to be a large part of how I operate, but fear lives in all of us. We always worry that something will happen; we are fearful of the future and fearful of change. While I may wish that fear disappeared, as seems to be the case for trapeze artists, I know it serves a purpose. It defines us and who we are—real, human, and flawed.
But maybe the main lesson from the day was that being brave can have an effect on others; it can be the push others need to shine. And that together we can lift each other, make art, and create a spectacle for all to enjoy.
The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin
Rick Rubin is a prolific music producer whose light touch and keen ear have made him a sought-after figure in the music industry. He has won eight Grammys and worked with the most respected musicians, such as Johnny Cash, Paul McCartney, the Rolling Stones, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Lady Gaga, etc.
It is an interesting read but a bit hippie, for lack of a better description. He is so far in the game of being a full-time artist and musician that I'm not sure how realistic it is to live as he lives and do as he says we should do.
Paprika (2006)
Paprika is a Japanese animated movie that, on the most superficial level, is about a bad guy using technology to become more powerful. Thematically, it’s about our relationship with dreams. We follow mainly three characters with very different relationships to dreams who go through transformations by connecting more with their dream selves. It's kind of a weird movie, but if you are into it, you can watch it for free online at the link on the top, where it says (Paprika).
Cheerleaders are portrayed in so many teen TV shows and movies that, for anyone not from the US, they always have a curious appeal. But I had no idea just how intense they were in real life. This documentary series showed the world just how much they train and how they are actually incredible athletes, fully committed to winning. If there's one thing they certainly lack, it’s the fear of falling.
I’m not familiar with the Cheer series, but it looks interesting.
It appears as though four U.S. presidents were cheerleaders in high school or college: Franklin Roosevelt, Dwight Eisenhower, Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush. And the late Supreme Court justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg was a high school cheerleader.
I don’t know if Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac was ever a cheerleader or drum majorette, but in this video the band made with the USC Marching Trojans, it looks like she has twirling skills:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ATMR5ettHz8
Cheerleaders and marching bands: very closely associated with sporting events even though they have nothing to do with the sport itself. But part of the overall spectacle, I suppose.
Loved the trapeze story--there’s something so human about putting ourselves out there at their edge of our capability. I’ve read Rubin’s book too. Hippy is a good word for it.