LESSONS FROM A CONTORTIONIST

Several years ago (it was more like 20+ years ago, but saying it that way makes me feel too old!) I was walking with Naomi in the French Quarter, in New Orleans. In the popular Jackson Square were all kinds of artists--musicians, painters, dancers, magicians, etc.--and one very remakable man, a contortionist; I believe he was from Haiti. He was striking the most incredible poses, with ankles laced around his neck, arms twisted behind his back--he could literally fold himself in half. And for his finale he folded himself right up into a clear tiny box, I'm guessing it was no more than two and a half feet square. They shut him in, and there he was! What a strange and fascinating thing. Even the other performers on the square were stopping to watch him.

He was quite thin, but also muscular, his muscles appearing almost translucent. I remember no little envy on my part: 'Gosh, I wish I had a body like that!' I thought. 'And what does he eat anyway? I don't think he does the steak and baked potato thing that often.'

Since that day I have, off and on, been interested in contortionism, not only for the feat itself, but also because of the association of contortionsists with circuses, and the idealized community that I have (naively I'm sure) always imagined the circus to be and which I someimes compare to the church. When we went to see the Circque du Soleil, in Austin, my appreciation of contortionsists (and circuses) was revived a great deal, for here were not only amazing contortionists but acrobatic contortionists who were able to maintain incredible poses while swinging through the air at high rates of speed, or while balancing atop the strong arms of other contorionists. And here I could not even bend over with knees straight and touch my toes!

A few months ago, the contortioinist bug hit me again, and I began to actually look into it more than I had before, to see it there was some how-to information. Was I too old? Wasn't yoga the same thing? etc. Here are some things that I learned:
--just about anyone, with work, can become a contortionist. True, some are more physically gifted in this regard, but even those persons have to work at it if they want to achieve good results.
--contortionists are some of the healthiest and most long-lived persons around.
--plan to put in about three hours of stretching per day if you want to be a contortionist; it does not all have to be at once; one hour three times a day is fine.
--make sure you are warmed up before you begin stretching.
--if you skip a day of stretching, you lose about a week in terms of how long it will take you to get back to your previous flexibility. If you skip a week, you will, similarly, lose about a month. So you need to be ready for a daily commitment.

Well, so I began. I increased my daily stretching a good bit, and got to where I could almost place my palms on the floor while standing with knees straight. I could sit and stretch and grab my heels with my palms, which I thought was pretty good. I was making progress. Alas, that was a month ago. I just stood up to see where I am currently, and can touch the top of my shoe with the tip of my middle finger.

It seems to me that there is in contortionism a lot of application to the spiritual life, especially in the idea that, if we are not stretching daily, we quickly revert back to a more comfortable (but less flexible) set point. Jesus' disciples had his teaching everyday for maybe three years, and yet, even shortly after his resurrection, they quickly lost their kingdom flexibility: "I'm going fishing,' said Peter. 'We'll go with you,' said the other disciples. In this regard, might Jesus' parables be thought of as contortionist stretches for the spirit that are meant, through continual application, to bring us to the new perceptions and abilities of God's children? How willing are we to have Jesus' life stretch us? R

AT THE SIDE OF THE ROAD

I was driving south on Hwy 121, listening to the cacophony that is sports radio, when I noticed a blade of grass growing at the side of the road. Amazing; how did I notice her, in all of her singular isness; surrounded by a billion cousins--who was she that I should notice her? And yet her integrity, her striving upwards to God, her simple enjoyment of the gentle breeze and morning sunshine caused me to turn off the radio and roll down the window so that I might take in the beauty of all her people: no longer green, and soon-to-be-mowed, they were tall and stately nonetheless. They stood silent, but perhaps...could it be possible?...they noticed the attention paid them and returned the favor by bowing their graceful wheat-like stalks?

This fellowship, this commraderie between me and all these blades of grass, was (is) a far richer thing than the radio's continual noisy attacks upon my secret self, or than the continual mental chatter of my own mind. Am I not one of them--a blade a grass, here today and tomorrow perhaps not even a memory to those who speed along the world's highway! Have I, I wonder, ever truly been noticed, even by myself, for who I am? Have you? Thanks be to the God who sees, knows, and loves each one of us for who we are, in whom we have a deep-rooted, eternal and joyous fellowship. R.