Secrets From Some Of The Fittest Performers Alive: Inside Cirque du Soleil

I’m a lifelong athlete and yogi, but I wasn’t prepared for what I saw backstage at Cirque Du Soleil.

There was one day to go before the world premiere of ‘Auana, Hawaii’s first resident Cirque du Soleil show, and the theater was a hive of activity. On stage, some of the native Hawaiian performers—who proudly make up about half the cast—were rehearsing the opening number, which turns traditional hula dancing on its head.

Up in the rafters, aerialists were trading tips on the timing of impossible-seeming stunts. Pacing the aisles, a master juggler practiced his meditation while keeping a never-ending stream of balls in the air.

Backstage, dancers were applying makeup in 27 painstaking steps—a rare chance to sit down amid daily nine-hour rehearsals. 

Perhaps I’m sensitive—focus is often in short supply in my own life these days. As a busy mother, yogi, and writer, I have to fight to carve out time for the practices that keep me grounded and growing. I’m no circus artist, but keeping our family afloat can definitely feel like juggling. Perhaps that’s why I made a beeline to talk to the juggler first. 

He said he keeps his gaze steady, and he watches the ball going up—not the ones coming down. The secret is to make a clean throw and to do that, he needs to watch the ball he’s about to release. Then he can trust that it will come down where it’s supposed to.

In addition, he begins each day with meditation, and he acknowledges dropping is a part of juggling. We can drop the ball, pick everything back up—make it look natural—and try again.

But for the hula dancers, it’s the opposite. Their power comes from the ground up.

Backstage, I asked one of the hula dancers, Mami Ogiwara, where she draws her strength from, and she said, “All of the movements start in the feet.” I had just spent the rehearsals watching their hips and hands, but when I watched the performance on opening night, I keyed in on the dancers’ feet and saw the way their strength moved up through their bodies. It seemed each step they took was intentional, energizing, and uplifting. 

Another thing Ogiwara said, which I found particularly empowering, “We can go into the unknown with honor.” In order to turn the traditional hula into a Cirque du Soleil performance, the footwork for the dancers remained rooted in tradition, even as the dances became more extravagant than tradition calls for.

“Hula isn’t just a form of dance, it’s a language. It’s a body language.” Explained the choreographer, Hiwa Vaughan. “Every movement represents a word or a phrase. In order to dance hula, one must have a mo’olelo, a story, to tell. The story comes first, and the hula enhances the words. Hula is the heartbeat of the show.”

I often feel like the silent moves I make around my house are the heartbeat of my family’s day, the subtle rhythm that keeps us going, the story of care I’m quietly telling. Will it feel less draining if I think of my movements starting in my feet?

When I asked the French aerial performer, Angéline Serre, what was particularly empowering about being in ‘Auana, she said, “We carved our own ipu drums used in hula, and we participated in a Kapu Kai (ocean blessing), led by Manaola Yap, which helped unite us as o’hana (family). It’s truly empowering to work alongside locals and people from all over the world.” 

“Balance isn’t about perfection, but it’s about finding rhythm,” Serre said. This made me wonder if wandering off her typical practice path to create her own ipu drum and participate in a blessing ceremony in the ocean tapped into her sense of rhythm and, therefore, how she finds balance. Did this heighten what she is capable of in her routine?

I can think of lots of places in my life—from Warrior Three Pose to going on a book tour to orchestrating the kid's constantly shifting schedules—where I can work on my rhythm to improve my balance.

When I asked Serre how she thinks about strength, she said, “I define strength as a balance of power, control, and resilience. It’s not just about physical strength, but also mental focus and adaptability.” It was this adaptability that felt the most nuanced to me—once I was primed to notice it.

Serre and her colleagues may have practiced their routines with precision, but a live performance requires accountability. It was the performers' willingness to go to the limit publicly that created the electricity in the theater for all those present, including Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson and Olympic gold medalist surfer Carissa Moore.

I understand why Serre said, “Strength is a balance of power, control, and resilience.” I imagine the power is something she can train for, she can build, and something she can feel moving through her; the audience can feel it too. But I wondered if what looked like her being in control also felt like a surrender to her.

Serre said, “In acrobatic arts, strength means trusting your body to execute precise movements while maintaining fluidity and grace. It’s about mastering challenging moves with control yet moving through them effortlessly. For me, a key part of mental strength is trust.”

How does she develop this trust, which supports her mental strength? She has to build trust not only in herself but also in her team. “Without that trust, [her] physical strength alone wouldn’t be enough.”

To create this show, a diverse group of people from all over the world came together and contributed. The strength of the show, how it was developed and executed, taught me that strength can come from putting in the time and pushing for new limits, but it also reminded me that greatness is multiplied when people work together.

Much of the joy I experienced came from the Hawaiian people who developed and performed in the show. Their thoughts on strength surprised me as much as the woman who did a one-handed handstand on a stilt ten feet off the ground while her entire lower body tilted at an impossible ninety-degree angle to the left, to the right, and back to the center. 

‘Auana means to wander. The spirit of the show is an invitation to surrender into the moment and to find the courage to wander off-path, but at the same time, the show pulses with determination.

After spending time with the performers, I am thoroughly inspired to move into the unknowns of this new year—empowered with curiosity, a commitment to building strength from the ground up, and a desire to expand my strengths through collaboration.