Monday, June 12, 2006

Juggling

I've never been much of a juggler. Speaking from ignorance, then, I think that the two primary ways of juggling (especially for people that can't juggle and have never really been taught) are (a) the method of tossing the objects (balls, beanbags, chainsaws) up and between one's two hands and (b) tossing one object at a time up from one hand, passing the subsequent object from the off hand to the tossing hand (creating a circular motion).

As I wrote, I've never been much of a juggler. Whatever meager capabilities I have, though, are based in option (b) from the above list. I've been told that it's the more difficult of the two methods, but I'm too old, too impatient, and my apartment has too low of ceilings for me to try the alternative.

While I haven't been practicing my juggling skills, I've thought a lot about what makes juggling interesting for the juggler... there's the thrill of impressing others, the feeling of accomplishment the juggler gets at doing something well, and (I'd bet) the thrill and uncertainty of having to not only anticipate the timing and location of the latest falling object, but also executing the catch and then the toss... all with a mind to having to anticipate where and when it's going to fall.

For a practiced juggler, I would imagine the micro (the "per object") thrill is dramatically reduced because of the confidence and competence with which she does the toss. Excluding the possibility of external forces (wind, low-flying birds, earthquakes), a well-executed toss makes the anticipation and catch merely mechanical. And, of course, the toss itself becomes mechanical with enough practice.

I guess, at that point, the juggler needs to try new and different things to keep the thrill.

For a third time, I'll state I'm not much of a juggler. As I think of juggling, I still see three hurdles to be cleared, each of which are discrete and fraught with peril.

Overthinking one step trips me up and causes me to lose that object (and possibly more). Underthinking might result in the cadence breaking or in an object being dropped for want of attention.

Practice is critical, but so is accepting my current limitations not as inherent deficiencies but as part of a natural learning curve. And the type of practice seems important, too; focusing on one object at a time will either build bad habits (since I would be tossing too low and/or holding on too tightly) or, at minimum, prevent me from improving my juggling ability. At the same time, I lack the skill and confidence to keep many objects airborne at once.

It appears, then, that I am at an impasse. My juggling capabilities will be frozen, where they are, in perpetuity (or until nature drags down my physical traits, necessarily reducing my juggling with it).

Unless, of course, I accept not only my current shortcomings but also that objects are occasionally going to get dropped. If and when that happens, I will have to make sure that they don't land on my toes and I will endeavor to not remonstrate myself too harshly nor take pleasure at the plight of the objects that are dropped for my want of skill.

I just hope that no object I toss (and drop) breaks on impact and then turns out to be irreplaceable.

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