Change Is a Circus

"The thing that really got me hooked was learning how to stay aware in the air -- to know where you are and where you need to be -- always. The best bit of advice I know for dealing with change at work comes from flying: If you lose your way, keep moving -- no matter what."

Shipp is all attitude as she scales the aluminum ladder, grabs the bar, and hops off the platform. Much like neophytes who get that deer-in-the-headlights look when change hits them at work, beginning fliers hesitate: They dangle from the trapeze like a pendulum on a grandfather clock. But Shipp "forces out," kicking and extending her body forward at the front end of the swing. Then comes the moment when she must make her exit. She must fall.

The correct place to let go of the bar is at the top of the front end of the swing. This is called the "stall point" -- the point at which you're the highest in the air and the farthest from the net -- the scariest place.

"You're closest to the net at the bottom of the swing, but you're also moving the fastest," Shipp explains. "Drop there, and you're angling for a sprained back, or worse."

Shipp bounces into the net, flat on her back. She shoots back up and executes a flip. She untucks and bounces again, her body forming a curve as she rebounds. Then she hangs in the air for a moment -- back arched, arms behind her, looking as if she belongs on the prow of a ship. She drops back into the net, springs to her feet, and flips onto the mat.

"From the second you begin climbing the ladder, flying is all about performing," Shipp tells me. "I love being caught by a catcher because it's a chance to look good. I've been working for nearly two years on my current trick -- a layout with a twist to the catcher -- and I expect I won't be able to pull it off for another six months. Knowing how to fall well boosts my morale."

Change Trick: Get Better, Go Slower

Every change agent must deal with fear -- fear of change itself. John Carr starts his routine with a conventional warm-up trick that never fails to scare the bejesus out of him. "The back mount," says the 51-year-old retired orthopedic surgeon and dedicated Internet trader, "really gets my attention."

Once a beginning flier leaves the platform, the only way out is down and into the net. But advanced fliers are trained to return to the platform on the backswing, hence the term "back mount." This is a trick in itself.

"The back mount is scary because you have to know where you are in relation to the platform, without being able to see it," Carr says. "Then, when you think you know where the platform is, you have to commit and let go of the bar. Release at the wrong moment, and you risk missing the platform and falling."

Carr swings out. On the back end of the swing, he sweeps up and over the platform, so high and fast that it looks as if he might clunk his head on the ceiling. Then he lets go of the bar, landing on the platform on the balls of his feet -- piece of cake.

Carr is one of the school's most unlikely success stories. A six-footer with graying hair that defies gravity, he's too tall and too old to do as well as he does. Cameron himself is amazed. "There's a saying in basketball: 'You can't teach seven feet,' " says Cameron. "It's the same for the trapeze, although the dimensions are somewhat different. The perfect flier is probably a five-foot-six-inch, 130-pound 17-year-old."

So what is Carr's secret?

Carr won't admit it, but he's a cat. Cats are unnaturally coordinated. They can control their bodies while flying through space, even though they lack traditional human reference points -- like the ground. That's why flying is such a great tool for learning to deal with change: You've got to think, decide, and move in midair, literally without knowing which way is up (or down). And you've got to do all this in the space of a few milliseconds. Hesitate, and you'll find yourself hurtling into the net.

"The first time I throw a new trick, everything is a complete blur," says Carr. "But the more I practice, the more time slows down. Seconds start to seem like minutes. My vision opens out, and I'm aware of my timing -- of how long I have to make this twist or that pike. With some tricks, it feels as if I've got all the time in the world."

Tonight, Carr's goal is to land a "cutaway half." Cameron, who is the catcher, climbs a ladder to a trapeze on the opposite end of the gym. Instead of hooking his legs around the bar, he wraps them around thick ropes. If Cameron were to hang from his knees, Carr might yank him right off the bar.

One thing that gives the otherwise collected Carr hives is being caught in midair. "I worry about knocking heads with the catcher, and that concern can affect my timing. If I'm off the bar too early, it's like a Laurel and Hardy routine, and I'm kissing the catcher. Too late, and we brush fingers, and I'm in the net. The tough part is this: Small people get caught and stay caught. I'm big, so I have to grip back. But that won't happen if we don't make contact."