The event sounded like it would be fun. It sounded scary. It didn’t help when our teacher said that we would be performing before thousands of baseball fans.
Although my teacher said that it was purely voluntary, I think she might have been disappointed with the lack of enthusiasm, and she started putting the pressure on. She began picking on a few people to solicit more takers. She leaned over until she saw me, and asked if I would go.
“No,” I said.
“I don’t know,” I answered in a small voice. What I should have done is told her the truth: Because I’m scared! The other students probably would have laughed.
But my teacher is very artfully persuasive, and one by one, a few of us agreed to participate, including me. And then, we found out we would be performing the 49 demonstration form, which is a condensed version of the 103 form. Some of us had never learned this form before. We knew all the postures, but they were all condensed and rearranged in this shortened form. We had three rehearsals before the event to get up to speed. Thank goodness there was a YouTube video that I could watch and review. Over and over and over again.
I went to the first rehearsal, and when I saw that the majority of the people there were the more experienced students from our class and other classes, I wanted to get back in my car and drive home. I didn’t belong in this group. And I didn’t want them to think that I thought I belonged in this group. But I stayed and rehearsed with everyone, partly remembering what I had seen on the video, and partly following when I had a lapse of memory. Each rehearsal got better, until it was the day of the performance, which was last Saturday.
We walked in the parade with hundreds of other people from various Chinese associations, schools, and dance troupes. We stopped and gave a quick tai chi demonstration before heading into the stadium. I was nervous, but not as nervous as I thought I would be. Either I was getting more confident, or I was delusional about my abilities.
Finally, it was time, and we stepped out onto the field with the other ribbon dance, tai chi, and lion dance performers. I felt at ease. We got into formation, and waited for our cue to begin.
When the music started, we all began to go through our respective routines, but I was only aware of what our group was doing, keeping a watchful eye on the corner people to make sure I wasn’t moving too slowly or too quickly, and doing the right moves. Although I was very aware of the scrutiny of the baseball fans in the stands, I remained miraculously calm. Maybe it was the fact that I was part of a large group, or maybe it was the calmness of the chi moving through us. But I felt like we were one unit, flowing forward and backward and around, expanding and contracting as one. I felt the peaceful energy emanating around us and floating out across the field. Did it reach the fans in the audience? Or were they distracted by the beating drums, dancing lions, and bright-colored midriff-baring ribbon dancers?
We timed our form perfectly, and finished right when the music stopped. We had made it through, and everyone had done reasonably well. I was so happy that I had been a part of this celebration. Sometimes we need to push ourselves out of our comfort zone to find out what we are capable of.