Janet and I went to see Riverdance the other night, and I was sitting there about 10 minutes when certain observations came up for me that I wanted to share with you.

If you’ve never seen Riverdance, it was one of those incredible and novel sensations choreographed to make a big splash on Broadway. It hit its mark. I never got a chance to see it when it first came out with its star, Michael Flatley, but I did ultimately buy the videotape, which was wonderful. If you haven’t gotten it, order a copy for yourself. Great stuff! In any event, three observations!

Sameness is boring.

The first several scenes in Riverdance were all chorus numbers: male and female dancers, 12 of each. During the first two scenes, they all came out by themselves, dressed identically with almost the same exact height.

They were precise. Disciplined, and so forth.

Something was missing. In the third scene, the lead male and lead female danced out, dressed uniquely against the backdrop of the Chorus. The tone of the entire presentation changed. It occurred to me, as I was watching, that “sameness,” frankly, is boring.

It’s not that they weren’t good—they were. But they all looked alike and they all did the same thing. What they did was interesting, but what they did could have been done by one; it didn’t take the entire chorus. I understand the impressiveness of seeing them all doing it exactly the same way—Rockettes style—but, when it came right down to it, the absence of the “unique” individual was telling. Once that was corrected, I paid attention.

It is the very uniqueness that permits us the opportunity to be exciting, not boring. Interesting, not the same as everyone else.

Don’t hide your personality—the power of one.

The video presentation featured the original male lead of Riverdance, Michael Flatley. The one I saw was an understudy of some type on tour. He was young (nothing wrong with that), clearly multi-talented (nothing wrong with that), and in need of some seasoning. Most importantly, however—he didn’t allow his personality to resonate. It was as if he were afraid to show himself as being separate from the rest. “I’m the chosen lead but not too much different from everyone else.” He went through the motions the choreographer had provided but without the spirit—the energy.

When you see Michael Flatley go through that same choreography, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Michael dominates the stage. His presence is clear throughout it. He lets his personality resonate—good or bad, arrogant and condescending. But he controls his environment.

I call it the power of one. The power to make a difference. By yourself.

Three Degrees of Separation

As a human being in the virtual reality of the 21st century and as a sophisticated inhabitant of a sophisticated world, we are separated no more than three degrees from our primitive heritage.

We currently have skyscrapers. Multi-million dollar mansions. Jet planes. Comfortable surroundings. Gourmet food. Aged wines. Million dollar weddings. Christian Dior dresses. Tiffany jewelry. Worldwide churches. And the like.

But when it comes right down to it, what motivates us today is not a whole lot different from what motivated us as Cro-Magnon hominids of earlier years.

Food. Shelter. Clothing. Physical and emotional intimacy. And fear of the unknown.

Why three degrees?

The first degree is simply functionality. Food, shelter and clothing in its functional format—it simply serves its purpose.

The second degree is differentiation. The same functions, but we have choices to satisfy them—type of food, type of shelter, type of clothing. Some variation that serves the same functional purpose but is otherwise different.

And the third level is sophistication. The differentiation is complete, but now it has evolved into the refined, the sophisticated, the urbane.

However, as sophisticated as we are, the same basic functions are served.

Stripped down to our roots, we all pursue the same basic functions. Whether we live in 21st Century America or Paleolithic northern Europe—we still need food. Shelter. Clothing. Physical and emotional embrace. And answers to our fundamental questions—why are we here and what becomes of us when we are here no longer. As pleasurable, eloquent, sophisticated, esoteric and refined as we might make it, the basics don’t change.

In any event, as I sat there at the Tupperware Auditorium listening and watching this marvelous artistic piece, I wanted to share these three things with you.

Do we not all have an opportunity to be unique from each other? Let’s take advantage of that. The conventional is conventional, but it’s just plain boring. Besides, nothing is served and nothing is learned when we are.

Second, if we are going to be unique, let’s not hide it. The very fact that we are unique, as individuals, is what allows us all to leverage that uniqueness.

And third, as sophisticated as our lives are, let’s not lose sight of the fundamental functions that sophistication serves. We are wonderful beings precisely because we have managed to differentiate ourselves through the sophisticated options our civilization offers. But let’s not believe our own PR—sophistication serves function, not vice versa.

Original writing date: April 1999

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