With the Greatest of Ease

Mindy's photo shoot near Canmore, AB, winter, 2024

I flew to Calgary for a week in June, mostly so that I could witness my daughter’s first Aerial Silks recital. If you don’t know what that is, don’t feel bad. I didn’t either until last fall when, at the age of forty, Mindy began taking weekly classes. Think circus. Think dance, acrobatics, gymnastics, trapeze.

Wikipedia describes Aerial Silks as “a performance in which one or more artists perform aerial acrobatics while hanging from a specialist fabric. Performers climb the suspended fabric without the use of safety lines and rely only on their training and skill to ensure safety. They use the fabric to wrap, suspend, drop, swing, and spiral their bodies into and out of various positions. Aerial Silks is a demanding art and requires a high degree of strength, power, flexibility, courage, stamina, and grace.”

The recital took place in Calgary’s historic downtown GRAND Theatre, which once hosted the likes of the Marx Brothers and Fred Astaire. I took my seat near the front with my son-in-law and two grandsons, where we enjoyed performances in ballet, tap, hip hop, and more from young performers. When the adult students finally took their turn, I was on the edge of my seat.

Since Mindy had been sending us regular photos and videos of herself practicing her new-found skills, I had a good idea of what to expect but I still felt blown away. They performed to a recording of Taylor Swift’s “Never Grow Up,” which alone could have turned me into a blubbering mess had I allowed myself to go there. Instead, I focused on breaking the rules by capturing the performance on my phone and training my lens on my daughter throughout the five-minute piece. I knew I could watch the video later and bawl in private if I needed to. The performance was gorgeous.

Two days later, Mindy took me to the studio where her classes are held to show me her more complicated moves, although it all looked complicated to me. She convinced me to sign their waiver form so that if the urge struck, I could try hoisting myself up those ribbons and hurling my breakable, vintage body to the floor instead of merely watching. Fat chance.

She did manage to coerce me into sitting in a dangling hoop and pointing my toes, smiling like a maniac, and pretending the hoop wasn’t biting into my butt while she spun me around and shot a video to keep in a vault in case the need for blackmail ever arises.

She showed me tricks that nearly made my heart leap out of my chest. I’m bumfuzzled by how anyone can perform these feats of strength and agility after only a few months, let alone someone with my DNA running through her veins. I’m the least athletic, most cowardly chicken ever. I’ve never given even the lightest child an under-duck on a swing for fear of getting hit in the head. I could never force myself to flip over a bar across my belly, for fear of being unable to complete the rotation and getting stuck hanging there. I’ve never mounted a bicycle by throwing one leg over the rear tire for fear of tipping.

Fear holds us back from many things, doesn’t it? I’m glad my daughter possessed the courage to try an activity she’s come to love—something that feeds her soul, strengthens her body, and infuses her life with joy. This particular art form embodies the old cliche about what doesn’t kill us making us stronger. To say I’m proud of her is the understatement of the year. I’m also thoroughly humbled, knowing I can’t take any credit.

Is there something new tugging at your heartstrings to try, but you lack the courage? Think you’re too old? Too uncoordinated? Too weak?

You could be right, of course. But how will you know, if you never try?