Fiducia

(fi-doo-chya)

Today this word seems especially poignant. It came up a lot during contemporary dance class this morning, during an exercise in relinquishing control. It was an experiment in becoming somebody else’s puppet. Partner A closes their eyes, and is guided by Partner 2 making subtle movements on A’s back. The two move together through the room at varied speeds, dependent on the amount of pressure provided by Partner 2. It’s really quite a neat experiment (grab a friend and try it!), with the assumption being that they don’t crash each other into things or other people. Hence fiducia: trust.

As usual, it was oddly liberating to let somebody else be concerned about how I was moving through space. In Portland, much of my professional circus career consisted of playing the puppet in a human marionette duo called Dreame Scape Theater, in which my partner and I trade control over my movement, giving the audience the impression that I am a living doll and he is my puppet master. This morning’s dance class exercise was similar in some ways, but different because for once there were no strings attached and I was handing over even more of my control. Instead of putting on a performance, I was focused on trusting the feeling of somebody with my best interest in mind guiding me through a particular moment of my life. It had a surprising spiritual aspect, and was a good reminder to relax and trust this process. And my, what a process!

The last two weeks have been some of the most emotionally and physically challenging days of my life. I expected the physical challenges, for the most part (more on that later). But when I initially thought of the emotional effects of moving across the world to follow my folly, I had no idea the first week would leave me wanting to do nothing more than to run away to something familiar instead of enjoying this new adventure. I was homesick, skeptical, linguistically shocked, and scared. I wanted a jar of the right kind of peanut butter and my island paradise. Instead, I found refuge a few blocks from the Paradiso stop on the metro line in the two-bedroom apartment I share with 3 boys. It may not have black sand beaches, tropical forests, an ocean, or the right kind of peanut butter… but it does have a view of the Alps from my balcony and family dinners, so I can’t complain too much. As I get into more of a rhythm in this new life, I have had a chance to breathe and see that my process really is worth trusting. I'm still very homesick, skeptical, linguistically challenged, and kind of scared, but now I see that it will all be all right. It’s normal to feel homesick and scared, and skepticism can be healthy. I don’t think things would be working out quite this well in so many aspects if choosing Italy had been the wrong choice.

I feel like fiducia is also important today of all days, because it is the day the US chooses who will be Commander in Chief and the face of our nation for the next few years. Who do we as a collective trust enough to give that role and the associated power? Who do we see as having our best interest in mind? More importantly, will we trust ourselves enough to stand up and evoke social change when leaders fail us? Or will we remain as sheep, lost in a pasture of false advertising, commercial gain, and popular culture? Time will tell. We can trust that.