By Adriana Mendez
Today I woke up with stiff legs, and a little tired. But I was happy to feel those tugs under my skin again. They whispered in my ear that my leg muscles are a little stronger than yesterday, and that my bones and ligaments are smiling.
Yesterday I returned to the aerial dance classes that I have regularly enjoyed on Tuesdays and Thursdays, for the last two years. End of the year parties, and a stubborn virus, one of those post-pandemic ones, prevented me from attending my circus classes for several weeks. In addition to that muscle ache, I missed the countryside landscape, and the dirt road walk I take to get to the GravityWorks open-air studio. Today I saw a cardinal, showing off his colors on the branch of a dusty mesquite, while a roadrunner made its way through grass and dry branches.
Ceci Corona, my friend and teacher, welcomed me with a hug and a smile. And also with the news that the warm-up now includes cartwheels. I joined the class with doubts whether I could do something that I had not practiced since my adolescence. Fortunately, with work, and in a half-crooked way, I made it. As the spin carried me from one side of the room to the other, I remembered the first time I saw Ceci.
It was about fifteen years ago, when she lived in an apartment that Beatriz, my cousin, rented to her, in the Allende neighborhood. Newly unpacked from her home in Guadalajara, and looking for a new life, she met Dan and Nisha Ferguson. She began working with them, in the administrative area of their ceramics business. Her past as a dancer gave her an entry into the circus troupe, and she was hooked from the start. The group, made up of about six acrobats, rehearsed in the Fergusons yard, and performed in a tent in the parking lot of La Aurora. They also offered private shows.
Nisha groomed Ceci, among other things, to make the art of aerial stunts a way of life. In 2008, Ceci left the administration to dedicate herself fully to teaching. The first classes were given in the tent. They founded GravityKids, and inaugurated the studio in the Caracol house, in front of Valle del Maiz. Several generations of boys and girls from San Miguel have learned to fly there through aerial dance. The pandemic forced the closure of the Caracol studio. In its place, classes are held today in a huge, open-air metal structure, with adults in the mornings, and children in the afternoons. Ceci’s passion for this discipline has led her to publicly share the beauty of this show. The Ángela Peralta Theater has witnessed the professionalism with which she has staged different musical works and ballets: “The Nutcracker,” “Alice in Wonderland,” “Cats,” and “Coppelia.”
The performances of the adults who practice this discipline take place every week in that studio; where sometimes a donkey, and a few sheep visit us. Ivan, Ceci’s dog, is never missing. Most of us are over fifty. All of us, each one at our own pace, have been able to get on the fabrics, rings, and trapezes to practice different tricks and routines. We have been infected by the passion Ceci exudes from every pore. Her careful, and patient guidance has been instrumental in taking each of our little, big steps. The stage, adorned by colored fabrics, dances to the rhythm of the wind, and the weight of those who climb them. The curtain opens, and we are surprised by the beauty of the pirouettes that we are capable of doing. The magic on stage is filled with conquered fears, smiling faces, and satisfied and proud hearts.
One never knows what one might find when starting a search. Ceci left Guadalajara twenty years ago, and came to San Miguel hoping to start a new, and better chapter in her life. Here she met aerial dance, and Enrique, my cousin. She fell in love with both.
San Miguel is filled with extraordinary experiences, like this one. And what has San Miguel given you?
