Recently, I went to the theatre to watch a dance performance. The piece was long and complex, with varied scenes and storylines overlapping. There was one segment in particular that seemed to make the audience uncomfortable. It involved a group of men reenacting a war scene. The music was fairly minimal, and the choreography involved nearly all of the dancers getting “shot” and dying — an intentionally graphic choice.
Towards the end of this scene, the music cut entirely. In complete silence, two men remained standing, one of them slowly dying and the other trying to keep him alive. It was a beautiful pas de deux in which the unharmed man was guiding the limp, dying man’s movements. As a dancer myself, I appreciated the immense level of skill and strength that this duet required. But, for most of the audience, it seemed to be a rather difficult moment to sit through, as evidenced by what happened next.
In the midst of the duet, a cacophony of throat clearing, sniffling, hacking, and seat shifting filled the silence. The tension in the air was met with a palpable, collective desire for the scene to be over as soon as possible — please and thank you. Initially, it was irritating. Do you really need to cough that loudly in this exact moment? But after a few moments, it became comical. The carefully crafted tension in the theatre faded, and everyone unclenched as the chorus of coughing outshone the performance. The unease in the audience was displaced with giggles and titters.
This, to me, spoke volumes about our ability (or lack thereof) to sit with discomfort.
We’ve all been to a performance — whether it be live theatre or during speeches at a wedding — where the audience is made to feel uncomfortable, challenging us to sit in silence and truly reflect on what we are seeing or hearing. Making us fidget. Making us want to cough. It’s made me wonder why, especially since the theatre is generally a safe space. As an audience member, nothing is expected of us but to sit still and enjoy. So why are we so easily discomfited? Why is a moment of silence so tempting to fill?
There are many studies on this very subject, but the general consensus is that in silence, our own thoughts are forced to the forefront of our minds. When there is noise, distraction, or entertainment in front of us, we can disappear into it. But, without those distractions, our thoughts can run freely, and for many of us, that is a scary place to go. More so now than ever, we live in a world that is obsessed with distraction. We are constantly bombarded with an excess of information and tools to escape. Boredom is a foreign concept. Self-reflection can feel like a chore we set for ourselves, often with a timer, so that we only have to suffer for a few minutes.
My experience at the theatre really shed light on this subject. It became painfully obvious that we cannot sit for even a moment in discomfort, whether it be during a performance, or in our everyday lives. Instead, we search for a means to alleviate it, through doom-scrolling or coughing repeatedly. So, the next time you go see a show — and there inevitably will be a next show that makes you feel uneasy — I urge you to just sit with it. Don’t cough. Don’t fidget. Don’t check your phone or pull faces at the person next to you. Just sit there. Let the moment happen and set your monkey mind free. Allow your uncomfortable feelings to arise, knowing that they are only feelings, and that they might reveal something deeper about yourself. In doing so, you may not only learn more about the performance in front of you, but also about your ability to sit still in a restless world.
Either way, it’s best to leave the performing to the people on stage. Chances are, they’re making you feel exactly as you’re meant to.
Written by Maggie Kelly
About Maggie
Maggie Kelly is a Canadian dancer and fitness instructor currently living in London, UK. Maggie is enjoying life as a freelance artist, and exploring what London has to offer!
