Dogfish Juggling

Throughout my time as a juggler, there have been what I consider to be great moments of personal discovery and accomplishment.  Anyone who juggles can certainly identify with this feeling.  It is the feeling that happens the first time you throw and catch three balls, and again when you realize you can continue to do this indefinitely.

It is the same sensation of limitless potential and effervescent joy I felt when I first flashed five. And again when I saw the pattern first becoming solid. It is a wonderful feeling, an up-swelling of self confidence and inspiration.

There is an undeniable commonality to these experiences, but there is also a nuance and individuality.  All are similar, yet none are the same — in much the same way each of the patterns themselves have an individual identity, and yet they all share the innate quality of juggling.

My most recent  moment of personal accomplishment — and perhaps one of my most profound personal juggling accomplishments to date — is four ball Mills Mess.  I’ve always had a deep affinity for the Mills Mess patterns and their variants.  Mills Mess feels almost like magic.  It completely transforms the pattern with such subtlety that it it feels almost like cheating.

Most patterns or tricks distinguish themselves with broad, clear strokes. Throw heights or orders are altered, changing the tempo of the juggling that is happening — creating a syncopation, stealing time for a trick or flourish.  Mills Mess isn’t like this.

Rather than the juggler altering the order or tempo of the pattern, in Mills Mess, the pattern manipulates the juggler.  A three-ball Mills Mess has the exact tempo and siteswap of a standard cascade, yet through the twining and untwining of the juggler’s arms an entirely new, almost organic pattern is created.

Mills Mess has a smoother flow than any other pattern of which I know. The balls seem to chase and follow one another alternately, pulling the juggler’s arms into place at the pattern’s insistence.  I make all of these observations based largely on my experience with three ball Mills. I feel, however, that with four these observations are, if anything, more apropos.

Three ball Mills Mess is a thing of beauty. It is a smooth and elegant pattern.

Four ball Mills is damn near poetic.

Like all even numbers, working with four is quirky.  The base pattern comprises two independent circles.  While they are in time with one another, they are fundamentally separate.  There are, of course, patterns which alter this but they can never escape this fundamental characteristic — the natural rhythmic disorder which accompanies even-numbered juggling.

Yet if any pattern could be said to come close to erasing this disharmony, Mills Mess would be it.

Those distinct circles — two sets of two each bound with certainty to a pre-determined hand — merge in Mills Mess. They dance like lovers, boundaries rendered invisible yet kept intact. Every moment each half of the pattern shifting in compensation.  Every prop seems lost in a miasmic tangle, and yet through it all each pair maintain their integrity. It’s a breakdown of dichotomy, a seemingly impossible union.  It is all bound by the arms of the juggler and yet simultaneously it binds him, commands him. It demands a sort of liquidness — a fluidity of motion.  It pulls the arms, constantly winding and unwinding those subordinate appendages to form a pattern of subtle and ever-changing complexity.

I’ve really only just broken into the pattern at this point, but I finally have a solid base to work from.  It’s only a matter of time and practice before I can begin incorporating more variations, some simple siteswaps and really begin to delve into the depths of four ball Mills Mess dynamics.

A flurry of all things jugglish has engulfed me of late, and I’m making some changes to this site as a direct result.

It would be an effort in futility were I to attempt to comprehensively  list my personal developments since my last post.  Just to bring things up to speed:  I’m making good progress on flashing six balls, have the five-ball cascade pretty solid, and have just cracked open the long illusive  four-ball Mills Mess.  I have to take a moment to say what a beautiful pattern four-ball Mills is.  It alone made me want to resume blogging here. Maybe more on that later, I want to get a few other points down while they are fresh.

Our juggling club, Neverthriving of Athens, is … well … thriving.  Take THAT archaic middle-English linguists!  The club is growing in both quantity and quality, and there is some fantastic juggling happening every week.

I’ve also been working on a short three-ball routine choreographed to a Flogging Molly song. Hopefully this will land me a spot in Mr. Blank’s Carnival of Black Hearts.

Last, but certainly not least, is what appears to be a very real chance for me to begin teaching a juggling class at a local yoga studio here in Athens, Rubber Soul Yoga (see links).

Well, as you can see, dear reader, these are exciting times.  I’ve done a lot of facebook posting of juggling accomplishments in the past few months, but maybe after re-working this site, I can shift back here.  I could certainly use the space, and this gives a much better archive to review.

Only time will tell.