Carnivals & Open-Mindedness
Last weekend, a friend invited me to watch her participate in one of the largest amateur circuses in the world. The entire day ended up being incredibly stressful, hectic, and socially exhausting, but at the same time, one of the calmest and most eye-opening experiences of my entire life. Watching a helicopter land 15 feet in front of me; a parade full of acrobats, businessmen, politicians, and a gang of biker clowns; a carnival run by some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet; and a circus event with a live band, performers aged 4-19, teenagers juggling fire, clowns spraying water at the audience, pre-teens balancing on top of each other seven-at-a-time while holding heavy weights while crossing a tight-rope–I finally know what it truly means to be open-minded and self-accepting. So, let’s talk that. Together.
It was my last day at the TV Station (see why I switched jobs here) and I had just gotten done with my final shift working overnight. Exhausted but excited for the adventures ahead, I drove the two hours away to a small town in my home state. I didn’t really see anything all that interesting, just very blank, boring buildings. That is, until I saw the giant crowd of people walking in unison toward the center of town. And so, naturally, I found a place to park and became a part of the crowd. There was a police officer assigned with the ambitious task of keeping order amidst the chaos of people trying to find the best view for whatever event was happening.
Confused, dazzled, and completely out of my element, I asked the officer where the heck I was supposed to be going. He informed me, “The parade is going down along Main Street, and then turning onto Doxon Ave, but the helicopter is landing here.” He pointed to a stretch of empty road 15 feet to his left.
He explained they were flying two helicopters into the town to drop off a couple of veterans who wanted to attend the show. I only wish I would have asked what wars the veterans had participated in. I was too socially awkward to do that, but the question did not leave my mind. The crowd gathered around the center of Main Street and went dead silent as they listened and watched with reverence and amazement. A loud whirling in the distance grew ever louder as the helicopter approached. Many people, myself included, took out their cell phones and began filming the event. Others decided to take in the moment with their own eyes, choosing to fully experience the moment instead of focusing on documenting their adventure.
While everyone else was starstruck by the spectacle of helicopters flying overhead and dropping people off, I was busy trying to estimate the age of the three veterans who stepped out of the helicopters to make an educated guess about which war they most likely served in. Judging by their walking speed, I’d guess they were probably somewhere between the late seventies to mid-eighties. And so, my best guess is that they participated in the Korean War (why is the USA always at war with someone? I don’t understand).
As awesome as it was to watch a helicopter up close, I noticed the air around the back propellers got very misty, alerting me of the scariness of the situation. Even something as seemingly wholesome as flying veterans to a small, remote town to watch a circus show still had a very dark side effect: Carbon was being released into the atmosphere to make this event available for our viewing. After doing further research, I found out that less than 1% of the aviation industry’s CO2 emissions are caused by helicopters, which has me wondering just how much pollution is created every year so that we can have the convivence of quicker travel. How much pollution did I create just by driving my vehicle to the carnival that day?
Anyway, no time to think about that; the parade was starting. Firetrucks and police cars, driven by emergency responders and their families, were leading the parade down Main Street. Between the blasts of their obnoxiously loud horns, the crowd’s booming applause, and countless indistinct conversations simultaneously happening within all of that other chaos, it was all finally too much. Up until then, the crowds of people and different conversations hadn’t been quite enough to be overstimulating yet, but I could sense my emotions rising, and I’d just realized I had forgotten my hearing protection in my car. If I didn’t get something to help mediate one of my senses, I would soon be left without any way of coping with all of the chaos, and I knew from prior experience that if I didn’t act soon, I would be doomed for a massive panic attack. And so, missing part of the parade, I sprinted away. I covered my ears and avoided eye contact with people as I raced for my car, running as fast as physically possible. Half a mile down the road, my car came into sight, and my asthma began mocking me. My friend, who had invited me, was busy performing in the parade and would immediately have to leave to prepare for the circus later on. I had already been awake for about 16 hours, and it was only 10 a.m. I still had a long day ahead of me, and I wondered if it might be better for my mental and physical health if I drove home and slept instead. I was out of shape, unprepared, and left wondering what I was doing in such a strange place all alone.
“Oh well,” I thought, “I’m used to feeling alien. Why should I let that stop me now?”
I searched my car up and down but couldn’t find any of my actual hearing protection. However, I still had my sound-blocking earbuds from work earlier, so I grabbed those and hoped they would do the trick. After running back to the parade, I began gasping for air, both because of my asthma, and because of the spectacle I was witnessing: Real-life horses leading chariots with performers hoisted on top, waving down from the heavens. After this, a second chariot passed this time featuring children dressed as princesses and knights in shining armor. Following the chariot, there was a float themed after the Disney-Animated Children’s Film “Moana”. The local high-school Marching Band passed by, playing “Seven Nation Army,” and the entire crown began clapping to the beat. Some other notable groups were the jugglers, the unicyclists, the backward-skating roller skaters, and the politicians who decided it would be a great idea to dress up–makeup and all–as the clowns they are, which I found to be incredibly humorous.
Surrounded by people of all sorts of shapes, sizes, colors, and sexualities, we all watched in awe as group after group passed by, and we celebrated them for the beautiful people that they are. The entire time, I wore a pride bandana around my face, and not a single person–not one–gave me a funny look or anything. For the first time maybe ever, I felt completely comfortable and normalized inside of a community. I think what truly broke me was when I watched a group of bikers remove their helmets to reveal clown makeup underneath, dance in circles around each other, place multi-colored wigs on their heads, and then drive out of sight. Yeah, you read that correctly. A group of seven or eight biker clowns dancing on their motorcycles in Main Street, with crowds of small-town folk not only watching, but cheering them on as they ride off, showing who they are openly for all of the world to see.
After the parade ended, I had about two and a half hours until the circus would start. I was too far away from home to leave and then return for the carnival later. I didn’t have my laptop, so I couldn’t work on other projects to be productive during my time waiting. I was forced to just exist for the next few hours. Since my friend was busy prepping for the show, I was on my own to explore what the town had to offer. The first thing I noticed was that there were not a whole lot of restaurant options. Most of the businesses were either bars, churches, or more bars. However, because there was this huge circus event happening, there also were a lot of extra food trucks, concession stands, and merchandise stores set up to siphon away every last penny out of my wallet. Naturally, you know me, this led to unnecessary spending with my credit card, buying overpriced shirts, socks, and deliciously unhealthy, fried carnival food.
I also talked to a very kind elderly man, who detailed his experience growing up in this small town, saying that when he was growing up, it was booming with industry and agriculture. “Half the homes here are empty or abandoned,” he said, “…It makes me kind of sad. I remember when this city was alive. During circus week, everyone gets so lively and excited. ‘Reminds me how it felt all the time back in the day. My granddaughter, she’s about your age. She’s in school right now to become a doctor in the city. Seems like the younger folks are moving away more than they’re stayin’. Makes me wonder what this town’ll look like 20 years from now. But, what’re you gonna do, right? Life goes on.”
He stared off into the distance for a few seconds and then closed his eyes. He stood there, slowly breathing in and out, contemplating, and then suddenly opened his eyes as he snapped back to reality. He gave me a strange look, hopped into his car, and jovially said “Welp. I hope you enjoy your stay!” as he rolled up his window and drove off. What an interesting guy.
Alone once again, I decided to start playing some classic rock music as I explored the town. Now that there weren’t as many people or loud noises gathered around Main Street, I finally had a chance to explore the culture of the town. I began to notice shadows of what the very kind elderly man had described. Buildings around Main Street had been recently repainted. The numerous different alcoholic establishments I mentioned earlier now had local bands setting up to start playing live music for customers. Banners were hung all around town, celebrating the circus. Multiple shops were set up by farmers to sell fresh vegetables to consumers looking for healthier food options. People who weren’t even part of the circus wore all kinds of different makeup and face paint in excitement. Businesses even replaced the mannequins in their windows with circus dolls to show appreciation and support.
After my headphones tragically died, and I began feeling the weight of being up for almost 18 hours without sleep, my energy and curiosity began to quickly drain. And so, I ended up sitting down on a sidewalk near one of the bars with the live band, and I began reading a book quietly by myself. The book was about the political atmosphere of the late 90’s – early 2000’s. I know. Super fun stuff.
Even though I was reading such heavy material, a wave of complete calmness washed over me. As I lay on the ground, I began recognizing, for the first time all day, the sun’s abrasive heat beating down on me. I smelled the air and the food from the restaurant next door. I was not “just existing for the next few hours” until the next event started, I was living life. I’m so used to having that voice in my brain telling me, “You need to be more productive, and more efficient with your time. Every second matters because soon you will die. The more things you accomplish before your inevitable death, the better. Go go go go.” I’m so afraid of not getting enough done in my life, so I maximize every possible second. Even when taking mental health breaks in the past, my focus was on being happy so that I could maximize my creative energy, not just because I deserve to be happy in my life.
I often tend to prioritize being “productive” over my own happiness. Being happy is seen as a means to an end, rather than an end by itself. For me, slowing down and just being present in a given moment is terrifying because I have this voice in my head telling me that every moment I spend not writing, not making art, means that I’m producing less for society. This voice tells me that I’m not doing enough. That I could be doing more. No matter how much I work, if I ever take time away, then I’m failing at being a good person and a good artist.
In the last month, I’ve been averaging over 7 hours per day on my phone. That doesn’t even touch all of my time spent on my PC or laptop editing videos or working on this website or writing these posts or managing my social media. I’m on the internet pretty much constantly, and I know I’m not alone. According to the Pew Research Center, as of 2022, 93% of teenagers have access to a smartphone, with 54% of them saying that it would be difficult for them to give up social media. 35% of teens say they use at least one social media platform “almost constantly,” and 93% of teens say they use the internet on the daily.
Being forced to just exist in this small town with nothing to do really opened my eyes to the calmness and peaceful lifestyle of slowing down and enjoying the moment.
In her blog, Filling the Jars, Julie Hage lists three reasons why this lifestyle shift is so important. She says that living in the moment allows you to:
Be grateful for the opportunities and situations you find yourself in on a day-to-day basis.
It improves the quality of your experiences because it, “Allows you to be fully immersed in your current situation and experience it with all your senses.”
And thirdly, she states that living present allows you to connect better with those around you.
After talking with the very kind elderly man, I have to say, I agree with all three of these points. Because I was forced to just sit and wait until the circus started at 2:00 p.m., I didn’t have anything else to do. Since it was impossible for me to be “productive” or “efficient with my time,” I was able to live in the moment without that voice telling me to be more and to go bigger and do greater. I was able to fully acknowledge and accept where I am right now in my life. Slowing down gave me a chance to think and reflect in a completely new way, and I have a greater understanding now of who I am and who I want to be in the future because I was able to slow down.
Furthermore, it allowed me to notice all of the small things that I had missed before during the hustle and bustle, chaotic, insane, craziness of the parade. I was too busy focusing on the crowds screaming and the horseback carriage with children in a pretend cage, that I missed the smaller details like the graffiti on the buildings or the dummies in the stores being changed. I never would’ve started a conversation with the very kind elderly man if I hadn’t been allowed to stop worrying about how much time was being “lost” during the conversation. I learned that I need to stop thinking about time as a resource-draining away and start thinking about it as an opportunity to experience life. Life is so much more than just the hustle and bustle of the parade, and it’s so much more than the contemporary reading on the sidewalk next to a local restaurant. Living life to the fullest involves doing a mix of both, and if you focus too much on one or the other, you’ll be missing out on part of the human experience.
At around 1:50 p.m., I knew the parade was going to start soon, so I put my book away, put in my sound-blocking headphones, and walked toward the show. Once again, I found myself surrounded by a massive crowd of other people also heading in the same direction. Unlike at the start of the day, though, I no longer felt this temptation to break away. I felt no need to try to feel out of place in order to feel validated. Because I was surrounded by people so free from judgment, I didn’t have this urge to rebel. Why would I need to rebel against unconditional acceptance and love? I like to think of myself as a rebel or a fighter against “the system”, so who am I when the system, or the culture surrounding me, is not something I need to rebel against? What happens to me when I finally feel accepted? The answer, of course, is that I learn to accept myself as well. Not just the things that make me alien, but the things that make me relatable as well. There’s so much more to who I am than just the things society hated me for, and there is so much overlap between those two things that I found out I still need to unravel. As I walked into the gigantic circus, the only question on my mind was this: “How can I begin to dissect the overlapping traits of what society has told me to hate about myself, which I have grown to love, and what society has told me was entirely who I am, which I have neglected to notice for so long?”
In February of 2021, CNN published a news article, citing that in 2021, 1.1% more Americans identify as LGBT than in 2017. This is not surprising to me, since our society tends to be moving in a direction toward more acceptance of people who don’t fit within the heteronormative gender binary that our religious, capitalistic society forced people into for so long.
When you are raised in a society that constantly tells you that the way you think, act, or view the world is wrong, this will inevitably impact how likely you are to be outgoing or honest (with others and with yourself) about who you are. You may start to see yourself as a monster or “disordered” in some way simply because you are different from others. Over time, this self-hatred that society has forced onto you will start to sink in. It might build itself into part of your self-identity. You may even start to view your inner conflict between who you are and who you “should be” as a battle against “temptation” or even against “evil” itself. Breaking away from that mindset is not often as easy as finding a group of people who are more accepting of you.
Since that “battle” has become so ingrained with how you see yourself, it may take a lot of self-reflection and work to figure out who you are after those shackles society placed on you for so long are finally removed. People who have been historically ridiculed or even discriminated against for who they are will sometimes be less outgoing or open as a way to protect themselves from further discrimination. It’s only once they find a healthier environment and the freedom to start peeling back the walls of hurt and pain and self-hatred, will they have the freedom to begin asking the most important question: “Who am I?”
Depending on how long those walls have been standing for, it might take some time to be able to fully disassemble them, but once you’re able to ignore society’s stigmas, as well as your own stigma about yourself, you’ll begin to see that there is so much more to who you are than you ever realized before, and you’ll begin to recognize how truly unique and beautiful you are.
I walked into the circus, and there were clowns everywhere. For some, I know this would be very fear-inducing. Luckily, I don’t have a fear of clowns, so this was not a concern for me. I just wanted to note quickly that I know clowns can be a fairly common fear for some people. I don’t want to invalidate your experience with the story I’m about to share. Fears are often irrational, but that doesn’t make them, or the experience of someone who has that fear, any less real. You are valid.
With that said, when I went to sit down in my seat, there were clowns responsible for guiding people to their respective areas as well as entertaining the audience while the talents were setting up (the show before the show if you will). One of these guides began honking their nose and spraying some of the members of the audience with water. My initial thought was “Oh god. Please not me, please not me, please not me.” But then, I began to analyze what he was doing, and all of the effort he was putting into this. He was not simply shooting members of the audience with water, but he was targeting those who were engaging with him. He was looking for body language cues from audience members and being very careful to only spray those who wanted to be sprayed. This is not a talent that just anyone possesses. It took skill to do what he was doing so effectively to make sure everyone in the audience felt comfortable and safe.
While I was watching all of this unfold, a couple sat down next to me. They had a daughter, who was probably around nine or ten years old. The parents kept egging her on, saying things like “Oh gosh. Look, it’s a clown! You better watch out. He’s gonna get ya.”
I will never forget this. The daughter looked over at her parents and said “No. He’s just shooting water. He’s friendly.”
The parents looked at each other in shock as they realized the full depth of the interaction that had just occurred. The mom kind of muttered, “Yeah, I guess as long as he isn’t bothering anyone, it’s not a problem, right?” And the daughter nodded in agreement. The clown ran over and gave her a high five and a big smile of gratitude. He proceeded to spray the parents with water and then ran off to guide the next group over.
The circus began shortly after, where a live band began playing. I watched as talent after talent performed. Acrobats flew through the air like angels. Teenagers stacked four high walked on tight ropes hung twenty feet above the ground while carrying very long, heavy-looking metal beams. Jugglers came out next and began casually tossing fire to each other while riding unicycles. Act after act continued to come out and perform for hours. Some of the performers were in multiple acts as well, so they were just going nonstop. It was amazing. You can tell from their skill just how much effort, passion, and hard work had gone into practicing for this one moment, and you could tell from their smiles how happy they were to be performing.
Although dressing like a clown may seem silly, or flying through the air may seem terrifying, these people have dedicated hundreds of hours of their lives to becoming what they view to be the best version of themselves. They are chasing their dreams and in constant pursuit of what makes them happy, and ultimately isn’t that what matters?
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be a “productive member of society,” but if there’s one thing that these amazing people have taught me, it’s that pursuing your own fundamental happiness is itself inspirational. Perhaps it’s time we reassess what it means to be “productive”. Instead of focusing on hating people who view the world differently, why not band together and work on dismantling the propaganda in the world? Let’s work together to spread awareness about the amount of pollution created every year or spread love to those around us. If you don’t feel like you’re “doing enough”, remember that simply living life the way you want to, can itself be an inspiration for others.
“A large majority (70%) says individuals simply knowing someone who is LGBT has helped a lot in terms of making society as a whole more accepting. Similar-sized majorities say well-known public figures—both LGBT (67%) and non-LGBT (66%)—have helped change societal views.” – Pew Research Center.
There is no “right way” to go about living life. Whether you’re an acrobat or a fire juggler, a unicyclist, a veteran, a farmer, a part of a marginalized community, a lonely writer, or a mixture of a lot of different things, so long as you are living life in a way that brings you fulfillment, that is all that matters. You shouldn’t pursue a lifestyle based on what you think will make the people around you happy, you should pursue a lifestyle that makes you happy and surround yourself with other people who will love you, cherish you, and celebrate you for being the clown biker dancer that you are. Just, remember that there’s more than just one thing that makes you, you. Focusing too much on one aspect of your personality, no matter what that aspect is, may inadvertently distract you from all of the other wonderful parts of you that work in tandem together to create the truly incredible and beautiful person that you are.
And so, my question for you is this: What part of yourself have you been neglecting? And what is something you can do right now to start exploring that other beautiful side of you?
Sources:
What major wars happened in the 1960s? – Sage-Advices
Decarbonising helicopters | Airbus
29 Inspiring Quotes About Enjoying The Moment | Filling the Jars
Teens, Social Media and Technology 2022 | Pew Research Center
How does technology impact teenagers’ brains? We still don’t have enough research to know. – Vox
More Americans identify as LGBTQ than ever before, poll finds | CNN
