Beauty in the Struggle
At age 4, Itzhak Perlman was struck by polio and his legs were severely paralyzed. Now well into his 60s, this amazing musician still uses crutches to walk on and off stage.
I entered Benaroya Hall on Thursday night without this knowledge and I was struck by the amount of effort that it apparently took Mr. Perlaman to walk on to the stage to perform. For those familiar with the symphony culture, you are aware that for some strange reason soloists and conductors walk off and back onto the stage multiple times before intermission and at the end of the performance. After seeing Itzhak Perlman slowly amble front and center for his initial performance, I assumed those traditions would be excused due to his limited mobility. I was wrong.
Not only did Mr. Perlman enter and exit the stage several times, he also awkwardly walked up a small set of stairs in order to conduct the symphony. As he approached the first of three steps and swung his leg out to lift it up on the step, there was an audible gasp from the audience. The gasp was in response to the seemingly unstable way that Mr. Perlman climbed the stairs, with most in attendance unsure that he’d manage to make even the first step up.
But, as I should know, those of us who have lived with disabilities most of our lives can often easily complete tasks that others think difficult (if not impossible) for us. There was a sense of relief as Mr. Perlman carefully climbed the stairs, plunked himself down on the chair and set his crutches down at each side.
As I left the Seattle Symphony performance that evening, I struggled to place words to what I had just experienced. Ask my friend, Elisabeth, that joined me that night. I tried to convey to her what I was feeling, but I’m not sure any of my words made sense!
It wasn’t until I was driving home that the words came to me. What I had witnessed was amazing beauty in the struggle. Had an athletic, perfectly ambulatory performer jogged out onto stage that night and played with the same perfection that Perlman had, I would have been impressed. But, I left that night with a level of gratitude and amazement that was only present due to the amount of effort that it seemed to take Mr. Perlman to simply get on and off stage.
(Check out an earlier performance by Itzhak Perlman below. In this video you can see the struggle in him walking.)
These past few days I’ve been thinking about what it is that makes beauty so stunning when it’s in the context of struggle. It’s the contrast, I suppose. The music was elevated even further by the fact that Mr. Perlman spends so much energy just getting from place to place. He could easily say, “I’m going to retire and rest.” Instead, he presses forward to be a great ambassador for both music and disability.
Through this experience I have begun to better appreciate what people mean when they tell me they see beauty in how I use my feet to complete daily tasks. It simply seems like survival to me, but there is likely much beauty within the daily struggle. This is so true for all of us – disabled or not. Now, my – and our – goal is to see that beauty as we are present in and push through the struggle.
Sighs & Hallelujahs 