Last night, as I watched a portion of the London Olympic Opening Ceremonies, I cried. I missed the beginning, and only came in at the dream sequence. At work, we had been talking about the Beijing ceremonies, and we agreed that nothing could top them. (I remember I cried then, too.) London's, in my humble opinion, were pretty darn cool. They were not China, but I don't think they were trying to be--they were trying to be London.
What impressed me, what moved me to tears--as always--was the heart, soul and skill displayed. Each of the children played their role, nurses were recruited to show their pride in who they are through dance and pantomime. The villains came! And Mary Poppins saved the day. Through it all, there were dance steps, formations, facial expressions, costume and set changes coordinated with hundreds of thousands of individuals, all working toward a common goal. And a goal that not everyone understands the importance of--a performance.
Performance art is misunderstood. Some of it is really weird. But sometimes it can carry you away as much as a painting, a sculpture, a book. I'm a little biased, I know. I was a performer; I am still a performer at heart, although these days my performances tend to be a bit more personal and on a different scale. (And no one pays to see them, or I'd be rich!) A part of me wonders if some of the comments I've seen about the Ceremonies being "weird" were related to the earlier parts I didn't see, or to something else. The commentary was too much for me, but I didn't have program notes to read first, so I know it was necessary, and there were times when I would have been completely lost without those voices, but Bob Costas, with all due respect, is a sports guy. A dance or performance commentator may have sounded less, well, like Bob Costas. (I love his voice, don't get me wrong, but he really does remind me of The Wide World of Sports for reasons I cannot explain.) On the other hand, performance people can get a little more wrapped up in what they are seeing......
Which brings me back to my own tears, and the tugging at my heartstrings. I miss that atmosphere. I miss that anticipation of a cue, and the proximity of other bodies dancing the same dance. Once or twice I picked up a flubbed step, a missed turn (also amazing, considering how many people were performing!) and was so impressed that the person who made the mistake, as well as those around them, were smiling away. Clearly they acknowledged the mistake, but the show must go on, and it was FUN!! I miss being at performances, and watching them live, watching them come to life. I go to our school plays and concerts, but I miss the dream of seeing a performance every week, every month, of being part of the energy.
The goal, as I understand it, was for the London Ceremonies to reflect the personality of London, and of Great Britain. All I know of either is what I've heard in history class, so of course parts of it struck me as odd; just as a performance trying to depict my own personality and history would seem odd to anyone who doesn't know me. The key is acceptance with an open mind. Once you meet me and get to know me a little bit, you can make the choice whether I am 'weird' or not, but don't skip the 'get to know me' part. Anyone who has the guts to be completely themselves when first being introduced will probably seem pretty darn weird.
I admire that.
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