Next Gathering:
Wednesday, July 1, 7:00 PM
Skinner Butte park
Just West of the big playground
Come play with us!
Sunday, June 28, 2015
James has progressed very quickly. Since he learned to juggle only a few weeks ago, he has a very solid, regular shower pattern. So a couple of weeks ago, I started teaching him to pass. Passing always attracts attention; six balls is a lot to have in motion. It's showy, all the motion and energy of the balls going between two people.
So I wasn't surprised when I saw four people standing there watching us. "Can we watch," they said.
Well, sure.
Three of them wandered off after a few minutes, but Kathryn stayed. She said she was from Dallas, Texas. She was so transfixed, I stopped juggling and asked her if she wanted a lesson. She agreed immediately. She picked up the moves pretty quickly. Usually, it takes a few sessions before people have the "one two three" breakthrough. But Kathryn was picking it up quickly. She started saying "okay, one more time, then I have to go." That's when I know they're hooked, when they start saying "one more time."
And then she got it. One, two, three. And her face lit up, and she laughed. They always laugh. As if juggling were saying "you've always known life was this beautiful, but you forgot. Now, you remember." I gave her a set of the simple juggling balls I make from rice and balloons, my compliment to the brave woman from Texas.
I wonder what she says when her friends in Dallas ask her "how was your trip to Oregon, Kathryn?"
So I wasn't surprised when I saw four people standing there watching us. "Can we watch," they said.
Well, sure.
Three of them wandered off after a few minutes, but Kathryn stayed. She said she was from Dallas, Texas. She was so transfixed, I stopped juggling and asked her if she wanted a lesson. She agreed immediately. She picked up the moves pretty quickly. Usually, it takes a few sessions before people have the "one two three" breakthrough. But Kathryn was picking it up quickly. She started saying "okay, one more time, then I have to go." That's when I know they're hooked, when they start saying "one more time."
And then she got it. One, two, three. And her face lit up, and she laughed. They always laugh. As if juggling were saying "you've always known life was this beautiful, but you forgot. Now, you remember." I gave her a set of the simple juggling balls I make from rice and balloons, my compliment to the brave woman from Texas.
I wonder what she says when her friends in Dallas ask her "how was your trip to Oregon, Kathryn?"
I think it was three weeks ago now that Elizabeth learned to juggle. We were at Monroe park on a brilliantly sunny evening. She got the basic moves right away, and then it was just a matter of refining them, by tossing again and again.
So I had started juggling too. That's when the young family came by. It happens all the time. I think the motion catches the eye, and then the color and patterns draw them in. There was a young couple and a little boy, a toddler no more than three. He was captivated. But he was wearing the strangest blank expression. Usually, little ones start to giggle the moment they see juggling. They seem to have no inhibitions about it; juggling is just fun to see.
But this little one had no expression, as if he were in a trance. Elizabeth and I were tossing the balls and smiling at him. His parents urged him on, and they started to walk away. Then the little boy turned and toddled back a couple of steps. And then he looked right at us and laughed out loud, just the most gleeful little-boy laugh I've ever heard. Elizabeth and I were laughing along with him until finally his parents, who were also infected with his mirth, took his little hand and led him away.
Later Eliabeth's boyfriend came by and watched us for a few minutes. He is now a juggler too, just from that few minutes of exposure. That's why I love juggling; it draws people together, breaks the ice. And it creates something beautiful.
So I had started juggling too. That's when the young family came by. It happens all the time. I think the motion catches the eye, and then the color and patterns draw them in. There was a young couple and a little boy, a toddler no more than three. He was captivated. But he was wearing the strangest blank expression. Usually, little ones start to giggle the moment they see juggling. They seem to have no inhibitions about it; juggling is just fun to see.
But this little one had no expression, as if he were in a trance. Elizabeth and I were tossing the balls and smiling at him. His parents urged him on, and they started to walk away. Then the little boy turned and toddled back a couple of steps. And then he looked right at us and laughed out loud, just the most gleeful little-boy laugh I've ever heard. Elizabeth and I were laughing along with him until finally his parents, who were also infected with his mirth, took his little hand and led him away.
Later Eliabeth's boyfriend came by and watched us for a few minutes. He is now a juggler too, just from that few minutes of exposure. That's why I love juggling; it draws people together, breaks the ice. And it creates something beautiful.
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