I fell passionately in love in early July. It was one of
those remarkable experiences that nobody ever sees coming, and my life has been
permanently different ever since. It was on a hot Manhattan summer day at lunch
time that I wandered into Bryant Park and first encountered them: there was a group of people juggling clubs, rings, and even up to 7 beanbags at once! I
had been informed by my mother that there were juggling lessons given there at lunch time, but I had expected a few people standing in a circle juggling three beanbags, not the complex and beautiful patterns that were being performed only feet from me. Then, from out of the crowd, one of them
asked me,
“Can you juggle?”
I said no.
“Want to learn?”
And so it began: The
15 minute lesson, the repeated dropping of beanbags, and, finally, the massive
excitement upon catching all three for the first time. From that first day, I
knew immediately that I loved it. I was obsessed. I bought a set of
pathetically bad quality beanbag and practiced tirelessly for hours. I worked
on the regular three ball cascade until I could do it with my eyes closed. I
practiced simple tricks, watched YouTube video after YouTube video, and bought
myself some proper beanbags. I was driven to advance, constantly in awe of my
fellow juggling club members, all with years of practice and amazing skills. By
summer’s end I had moved onto four balls, bought a set of clubs, spending lots
of time (and money) in the prominent New York juggling store: Dubé Juggling.
Juggling, though a popular party trick, is not a typical
passion. So imagine my surprise when I discovered one of my friends who I
worked with at a tiny Hamptons health food market, was just as
enthused with it as I was. He introduced me to contact juggling, the peculiar
art of mime and balance (most often associated with David Bowie and the Fushigi ball) where
one makes a dense acrylic ball appear to float through isolations, dramatic
hand motions, and mystifying body rolls. I loved it a much as I did traditional
juggling. Mine and my friend’s interest in circusy skill arts evolved in
tandem, which was the driving inspiration behind starting a local circus club
together. This new club was the perfect place to introduce our love of
juggling, and other skill arts, to the people of the Hamptons. We taught small
children to juggle, and encouraged our friends and coworkers to join us. It
wasn't long after that we purchased unicycles.
With one of our club members being part of a fire spinning troop, and another who hoola hoops, I wonder how
long it is before we take that up too.
This brings me to the dark side of my passion for juggling:
the addiction. I forever have to carry a massive, spacious messenger bag to
accommodate the juggling equipment I constantly carry with me: my four beanbags
and a 100 mm diameter acrylic ball. I constantly pick up all round objects
(especially fruit) and try to juggle them, or contact juggle them, I perform
contact juggling isolations on any cup or glass I’m holding, and it’s a good
thing almost all my friends are away at college anyway, because I have
essentially no life apart from that which involves juggling due to the hours I spend practicing new tricks and honing my
juggling skills. I have also taken to spending whole weekends devoted to my fledgling circus club, and have reinvented the term “travelling circus” as
I am often seen with a black bag full of juggling equipment, with my unicycle in tow. I also tend to spend my Friday nights like
this:
Addiction aside, juggling is one of the most important things I have spent my year off on thus far. It has been a pursuit of passion, a learning experience, and amazingly fun as well.
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