The Puppeteer

Sometimes I feel more alive when I'm breathing life into this inanimate beast. A cape of invincibility, I'm now immune to all of life's troubles and expectations. Becoming one with the majestic creature, my legs become its legs, my arms becomes its breathing, my rhythm and step become its strut.

As my partner and I count out silent cues, the beast shows off its impressive strength and agility through rolls, leaps and posts. The resounding sound of the drum beats in time with my own internal one, the cymbals crashing, marking my steps. No longer resisting the urge, the shiny red and black cat shakes his mane, gets low to the beat, tail wagging behind him. I've become the lion.

The crowd cheers as he carefully performs the stunts, laughs as he interacts with others, and applauds as he walks up to the edge of the stage, balanced on his hind legs; my partner and my faces are finally revealed. My role of puppeteer ends as the lights fade out and we walk out.

The lion has welcomed yet another new year; he happily returns to his much needed slumber. He will come back alive the same time next year, but the next puppeteers down in line will bring their own take; the lion changes his personality accordingly, adapting to the new year.

That is the will of Lion Dance.