Joan Charlene Bartoletti died at 79. For forty years, says her obit, she taught “resilience, discipline, and joy” through the art of dance.
Indeed, R, D & J is the triad we need to dance with life, to keep us from tripping over our own feet, and help us bounce back when we get bumped around like Curly in the Three Stooges, that time a spring attached to his pants, then caught on another guy’s pants as Curly was trying to trip the light fantastic with an elegant woman and kept getting yanked back into the other guy and, of course, got so frustrated he ran his hands over his face growling Mmmmmm! and tried again, and somehow, as it always does, the whole thing ended up in a pie fight.
Feels like life, right?
Which is where resilience comes in. Because every morning we get smacked in the face by the vitriol and stupidity of frauds, blatherskites, numbskulls, and shills; socked in the jaw even before we finish that first cup of joe. Without resilience, we’d fold up like impulse-buy lawn chairs.
We require discipline to keep us from stepping into potholes of disaster, which can literally happen if we walk around with our heads bent over a phone, as I see every day on every street corner, on every sidewalk with a sentient human walking a dog or pushing a stroller, looking not at whither they go, but at the phone, and more often than not the toddler in the stroller has a screen, too.
Thus, discipline might suggest a) resisting the itch to look at your phone every five minutes; b) spending time in quiet contemplation (try that for five minutes and see how much practice you’re going to need); and c) moving your body with some regularity, which brings us back to the dance.
When you feel joy, you ought to dance.
But what if you’re down in the dumps (a phrase that comes from the Dutch word domp, which means fog, and not the dump, a place where you discard trash, though certainly if you were down in the city dump, you probably wouldn’t be jumping for joy, or dancing, unless it was away from a rat)? You can move your body as if you were joyful (picture Tigger from Winnie-the-Pooh), though I’d suggest doing this in private and not at Starbucks or your local grocery store.
Tigger, by the way, was voiced by Paul Winchell, who was a favorite of mine when I was a kid. He was a popular ventriloquist with a dummy sidekick named Jerry Mahoney. That suggested to me a career path. When I was ten I purchased Winchell’s book Ventriloquism for Fun and Profit. I had fun, but no profit. I should have stuck with it. I read that ventriloquist Jeff Dunham has made north of $140 million over the last 20 years with a variety of dummies.
I can, however, put a sock over my hand and turn it into a talking sock that tells jokes. I’ve earned squat from this prowess, yet it provides a moment of joy for a child, as does another of my skills—honed by hours of disciplined practice—namely, making a nickel or quarter disappear, then producing it from the ear of the child or, in more jocular moments, snorting the coin out of my nose.
Yes, I am a man of many non-monetizable skills.
But non-monetized skills give life zest. Can you juggle? Wiggle your ears? Impersonate Christopher Walken?
Speaking of which, I loved the impersonators who’d show up on The Ed Sullivan Show. Ironically, one of the most popular imitations was of Ed Sullivan himself, because he was easy to do—you just raised your shoulders and made your voice a deeper version of Kermit the Frog and announced outrageous acts. I, of course, did a killer Ed Sullivan—still do, in fact, though the population of people who actually remember Ed Sullivan is dwindling rapidly—and would introduce acts like this: “Tonight on our shooo we have the entire female population of Guadalajara singing a medley of tunes from Oklahoma!”
My favorite among the impersonators was Frank Gorshin, who could mold his face into facsimiles of his subjects. He’d show a smiling mouthful of teeth for Burt Lancaster, and gritted teeth for Kirk Douglas, and do a bit where they talked to each other. I stole both of these and amused my Junior High history teacher with them.
Again, for no money. But it may have influenced my grade.
QUOTE
"Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain." – Vivian Greene
Thus, discipline might suggest ... b) spending time in quiet contemplation -- not easy at all. I have another suggestion--spend time with a friend you haven't seen in a while and stay up until 2 a.m. talking about nothing in particular., just enjoying each other's company.
I like your line, "Yes, I am a man of many non-monetizable skills." However, you point out that some of them can bring a "moment of joy for a child." That may be worth more than money.