There’s a moment in flying trapeze when you have to let go—literally and mentally. You swing out over the net, heart pounding, body fully extended, and then, for just a second, time slows. You release the bar, arch through the air, and trust that everything you’ve practiced will carry you through to the next moment. It’s exhilarating, terrifying, and absolutely addicting.
I’ve been flying for exactly 2.5 years last week, a milestone I reached while at Airborne Arts in Costa Rica for my second flying trapeze retreat. The week was packed with movement, mindfulness, and community—an experience that reminded me why I keep coming back to this sport, even when it pushes me to my absolute limits.
A Day in the Jungle
Each day of the week-long retreat followed an intense schedule, including the following:
- 2 hours of flying trapeze
- 2 hours of watching flying trapeze an
- 1 hour of conditioning, strength training and catch locks
- 1 hour of meditation and/or breathwork
- Incredible organic meals and fresh juices to fuel our training
I spent the week training under Lukas Weinbach, an advanced flyer who previously performed with The Flying Royals, and Jonathan Conant, founder of Trapeze School New York and its various locations, alongside 17 other passionate trapeze coaches and flyers. The group was an eclectic mix—flyers came from DC, Seattle, Denver, Pennsylvania, Spain, and Germany, but the biggest crew was our Chicago group, which made up eight of the eighteen flyers.
Trapeze is as much mental as it is physical. Breathwork and meditation weren’t just optional add-ons—they were necessary tools for focus, control, and managing the nerves that inevitably come with learning new skills. Flying isn’t just about jumping off a platform and hoping for the best; it requires technique, timing, and a deep awareness of your own body in space.
Flying Out of Safety Lines for the First Time
One of my biggest goals for this retreat was to, not only take my first flying trapeze trick out of safety lines, but to also catch that trick successfully without safety lines. I had spent months preparing, but standing on that platform, knowing there was no harness to catch me if something went sideways, was a completely different experience.
The moment before takeoff, I did what I always do—I took 10 seconds to visualize the trick in my mind, ensuring my focus was fully locked in. I pictured every movement, every breath, every detail of how it should feel. Then, I stepped to the edge of the platform, ready. Doubts tried to creep in—what if I didn’t get the timing right? What if I hesitated? But the moment I launched, all of that disappeared. The movement I had trained so hard for happened naturally, exactly as I had visualized, and before I knew it, I was in the net, completely exhilarated.
It’s hard to explain the mix of relief, adrenaline, and pride that comes with pushing past a fear like that. Trapeze teaches you how to trust the process, how to fail, and how to get back up and try again—lessons that carry over into every other part of life, including my work in my approach to practicing law.
Sleeping Under the Stars (And Tent Evacuation)
Flying trapeze was only part of the adventure. Twice during the retreat, I slept outside in the jungle under the stars—once intentionally, and once because our tent got infiltrated by a furry creature I’ve never seen and a tarantula hawk wasp (which, if you don’t know, is a wasp with a sting so painful it can paralyze tarantulas). Given our options, sleeping outside seemed like the safer choice.
And honestly? It was absolutely incredible.
The night sky in Costa Rica is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Thousands of stars stretched across the sky, and I was lucky enough to see seven shooting stars. Lying there, staring up at the vastness of it all, it was impossible not to feel connected—to the world, to the people around me, and to the simple joy of being alive in that moment. Since moving to Chicago from Southern Illinois in 2012, stargazing has been one of the things I’ve missed the most, and it’s something I’m particularly looking forward to when I move back later this year. But Costa Rica’s sky? It was next level. Thousands of stars stretched endlessly across the night, brighter and more vivid than anything I’ve experienced, and I was lucky enough to see seven shooting stars in a single night. Lying there, staring up at the vastness of it all, it was impossible not to feel connected—to the world, to the people around me, and to the simple joy of being alive in that moment.
Already Planning the Next Adventure
One of my favorite things about flying trapeze is that it takes you to new places—not just physically, but mentally. I’m already planning to return to Costa Rica next year, and in the meantime, our Chicago crew has booked a trip to Seattle, WA, to try out their rig, which I hope to visit again in May while attending NAELA National’s Annual Conference. Flying in different locations, under different coaches and with different flyers, is part of what makes my circus journey so exciting.
Movement—whether it’s flying, dancing, duo trapeze, or trampoline wall—has never just been about exercise for me. It’s a way to build confidence, manage stress, and stay connected to myself and those around me. In trapeze, in law, and in life, progress comes from trusting the process, leaning into challenges, and knowing when to let go.
