Acrobats Should Become Ambassadors

Lately it feels like while we are sharing the same country we might be living in alternate realities. It's disorienting and exhausting, even when you're trying to stay curious. And when everyone's temperature is already elevated, it's hard to even broach a subject without bracing for impact.

I've been fortunate to know places where those divides softened.

My career has taken me all over the world. I sat across tables from government officials, performers, business partners, and even royalty. Different languages were spoken, different gods were worshipped. Some people ate with their hands, some barely ate at all. And yet we found common ground.

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Not through ideology and not through agreement necessarily, but through a crowd's applause. A child's giggle, a truck flying, an acrobat rotating midair. A story of perseverance unfolding right in front of you.

In those moments, joy and awe did the work.

My father sourced acts during the Cold War. Governments that fundamentally opposed one another still showed up to the same negotiating table, not to debate values, but to make something extraordinary happen. Performers built careers beyond troubled homelands. American audiences experienced the artistry of another culture.

My dad understood what most diplomats missed: a perfect triple somersault can bridge a divide better than a perfect argument.

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Entertainment, art, culture, a good meal, they ground us in our shared humanity. They remind us what beauty and thoughtfulness feel like. And when the world tips toward the dystopian, they offer something we desperately need; an escape into joy.

And so these last few weeks, I've been thinking about what that looks like closer to home.

I heard from a friend in Minneapolis who barely recognizes her city right now. When the weight became too much, her response wasn't retreat. It was community. Neighbors who once exchanged polite waves are now meeting for coffee. Lapsed friendships are finding their way back. People are showing up in small, human ways to help one another and those in deeper need.

When the world feels dehumanizing, maybe the answer is responding with the very best of our humanity.

Yes, call your representatives. Protest in the streets. Drop off food, clothes, personal necessities. Those actions really matter. But there's also power in reaching out to the humans closest to us, or those that have suddenly reappeared in your contacts (wink). In solidifying friendships. In strengthening community. In reminding ourselves we're more alike than the noise suggests.

Shared experiences rooted in joy, care, and presence soften edges that arguments never will.

So how do we create more moments that let us see each other again? Not as opposing viewpoints, but as humans sharing the same room, the same breath, the same applause?

I don't have a tidy answer, but I know it starts with showing up.  A text, a knock knock joke,  a funny meme, a book or content recommendation, a walk, a photo memory from your albums. Something we can smile about together will remind us of who we are when we are feeling lost.  

From Your Biggest Champion,

Nicole