The death knell in juggling is to watch any individual object. Our instinct is to look at each ball or task separately, because we want to have control. It's a very insecure feeling: you influence something, and then you can't influence it, and then you're expected to catch it. But if you're tied to each little specific, you'll lose sight of the big picture. Concentrate on seeing all the patterns.
If you look at things in only one way, you'll be greatly restricted in how many objects you can juggle. You can be a very task successful juggler and get the job done from toss to toss -- but still be a lousy juggler. If you look at things in many different ways, you'll develop a depth perception that allows you to unscramble several patterns and see them all at once.
Balance is an essential skill in juggling -- as essential as it is in life. But balance is not perfect stillness. It's the ability to make exquisitely refined responses to any unexpected change. It's the sense of little movements creating perfect yet temporary equilibrium.
I'm always changing. I probably adjust five times a second throughout a two-hour show. This means that I'm constantly figuring out how to succeed. I know I can never have absolute control over the situation. But I've struck a dynamic precision in my juggling process, so that I can find balance.
The downside of balance is that you don't want things to change. The moment you've achieved balance, you'd better be ready and willing to get rid of it. Because if you stay with what you think is perfect balance, you'll be far from in control. Remember, there is no perfect balance; there's only the approach to it.
Juggling is about being flexible to the unexpected -- flexible to mistakes of any kind, like the wrong music coming up. Ever try to slow-dance to fast music? In front of 1,000 people? When the unexpected flares up, you have to have a sense of humor -- to know that your position has been compromised. It's not the end of the world. It may not even be the end of this little moment. It may just mean that the moment will become a lot more interesting.
You've got to be aware of and flexible to all those little moments, because you can never tell what might come from them.
Don't undertake a difficult task and then accept a watered-down version of accomplishment. It may feel like success -- but it's really just a bad habit. In juggling, a bad habit can be jerking your head back because you're afraid of hitting yourself. Or throwing the ball in front of you, so you have to step forward to catch it.
When you're working alone, your bad habits cheat you of real accomplishment. But when you're working with someone else, when you're juggling with a partner, your bad habits become a real burden. Whenever I agree to juggle with someone, I ask them to be honest about their own shortcomings. This is the most valuable thing you can do -- whether you're working on a team or with another person. In club-passing, you have to keep track of a process. If you're given a good throw, the process should continue undisturbed. It's a repetitive process that depends greatly on balance. And if you've developed your skills as a juggler, you can make good throws. If you shirk your responsibilities, your bad habits will reverberate in your partnership. And this will contribute greatly to the failure of your team.
We all have to juggle different types of things. The key is to get over your false expectations. If I throw you three different objects all at once, you have a limited time to gauge the weight, texture, and size of what's about to fall into your hand. So you have to develop different ways of grasping the objects. If you try to grasp one as you would another, you're going to miss -- you may even get hurt.
Try to understand the characteristics of the objects coming at you. Worse than dropping objects is letting them collide in the air and fall in random patterns. To prevent this, you need to create a separate flight path for each object. This comes from training and from knowing how objects move. A ring is a thin planar object that can slide through the air. A club creates a much bigger planar area as it revolves on its axis, and it takes up a lot more space. Then there's the ball -- the easy one that flits in and out of space. But the funny thing is that it's usually the ball that screws everything up. In comparison with everything else, it's so easy to throw that you end up throwing it through the roof.
Beware of taking the simplest things for granted. Because it's the simplest thing that will be your anchor.
Anna Muoio (amuoio@fastcompany.com) juggles responsibilities as a member of the Fast Company editorial staff. Contact Michael Moschen through David Belenzon Management (dbmgmt@aol.com).
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