Be The Parade
You Know You Want To!
King 5 News photo grab
My team won the Super Bowl, and my city went all in. We galvanized to celebrate athletic achievement and our proximal association with it. We were there - armchair quarterbacks and fair weather fans alike - for our little piece of the magic.
Because who doesn’t love a parade? It’s an enchanting nexus of music, movement, and ways of being — twirlers, Shriners, guys pushing lawn mowers, giant balloon toters — on exuberant display in the middle of everyday life. The Pied Piper had a viral idea, and modern society is up for it.
My childhood/adolescent embrace of “band geek”-ness had a lot to do with the fact that my Illinois elementary music program featured not only screetchy, awkward Parent Night performances, but also uniforms (capes and berets!), marching around the block (neighbors brought lawn chairs!), and the opportunity to “be someone” in the local Memorial Day parade.
In adult life, though, it’s much easier to see the parade then be it.
Back in the day, I took baton twirling lessons and imagined myself in the spangled leotard or fake military epaulettes of the drum major(ette). Where I once imagined myself at the front of everything, I now actively undercut leader-of-the-band inclinations. Although success in most modern venture seems to involve being noticed, out there, on display, the sidelines feel safer.
Putting yourself out there invites judgement or rejection. Venturing into new creative experimentation means risking failure, frustration, a long season of learning.
I’ve realized that while I want the costume, visualize myself among the marchers, have practiced my float-rider’s wave, I struggle to believe I belong in the line-up.
Leaping from onlooker to participant is no small thing, but making magic means doing what’s hard. And living small doesn’t guarantee safety. So, while wonder can be present and pervasive in the watching, I’m trying to embrace my place in the parade.
I appreciate this “Manifesto for Stubborn Optimists” from best-selling author and creator Brad Montague. It reminds me that being the parade can mean simply showing up over and over, refusing to stop:
We are the stubborn optimists,
carriers of light, even when it flickers,
believers and builders,
HERE (and not going anywhere)
Who needs fire twirling or candy tossing? I don’t have to become something I’m not.
Showing up creatively can involve small leadership, or following with fanfare. It can feature the visions of a quiet mind, or noisy collaborations. There are so many ways to be. I’m challenged to consider how my creative thinking may invite others along.
Parades evoke leadership, energy, action, triumph, joyful exuberance, and collectivity:
Leadership can look like sharing a passion and inviting others to learn about it.
Energetic participation in the world is as easy as engaging with others, moving our bodies, being involved.
Action is necessary to community - from political initiative to civic participation to volunteerism.
Triumphant celebration doesn’t require the size or drama of an Olympic performance or a Super Bowl win. You can embrace it in meeting a deadline, completing a project, a word of affirmation, new learning, a ray of sunshine.
We can be joyful exuberant at the gifts of today — nature, imagination, presence.
Everyone is invited, whenever we gather, any time we want.
So, let’s be the parade I’ll do it if you will!




Love this essay. And now you must join me on the sideline of this summer’s torchlight parade which I thoroughly enjoyed solo last year.
Your article points to a few things we have in common, Steph: baton twirling lessons (I was delighted to see this art lives on when I watched the Junior Rose Parade a few years back), and championship parade attendance. My whole family was away in various places when the Warriors won their first in 40 years a while back, and tho I'd not been a hard-core fan, I got swept up in the fever and enjoyed the parade on my own! 🎊