The Tao of Hula

What we really need to do, as a modern, scientifically-enlightened, empirically-minded, rational society is ban hula hoops. For one thing, the term hula is clearly racist. For another, hula hooping is clearly irrational.

Think about it, now: what exactly is the point of standing there, gyrating, so that a plastic hoop goes round and round and round? The hoop’s spinning serves no practical end, confirms no intellectual propositions, explains nothing of how one came to be standing on the spot and gyrating, and cannot, for all its whirling, account for itself.

It’s long past time, then, to do away, altogether, with hula hooping, and to bring our hips into the modern age.

On the other hand, what if hula hooping is simply fun? Is there an adaptive purpose for engaging in fun? Is there a psychological justification for having fun? Is the joy of pursuing and seizing fun a rational end, in itself? Is perfectly pointless fun an indication of intellectual weakness, emotional immaturity, political hostility, and an irrational fear of what might happen to the cosmos if one does not hula hoop—or is the pointless joy of hula hooping simply what it is?

Hula hooping, in fact, might be good, even without being rational. Or, perhaps, if a rationale is necessary, hula hooping’s rational content is not in the spinning of the hoop, per se, but in the quality, the joyful quality, that the spinning lends to life that, otherwise, can be dull—so dull, sometimes, it’s unbearable.

Hooray for hula hooping, then. We can stop worrying about why’s and wherefore’s, we can set aside the angry impetus to just end hula hooping, once and for all, we need not look down on hula hooping as something we ought to have outgrown. We can, in whole, healthy humanity, grab a hoop and enjoy the whirling.

But, what if hula hooping isn’t fun?

What if, say, we lack the coordination to keep the hula hoop aloft? What if we quickly tire? Or we strain a muscle or throw a joint? What if the hooping itself doesn’t much grab our attention, or doesn’t much invest our moment with joy? What if we find hula hooping, actually, rather uninteresting?

Must we hula hoop?

Or, what if other hoopers say that our hoop is too big? Or too small? What if all the hoopers all around insist that the hoop must whirl clockwise, but we can only whirl counterclockwise? Or what if we just like counterclockwise better? What happens when the Grand Exalted Society of Hula Hoopers affirms us as Hip Hoopers, but forbids us to twirl hoops on our arms or on our necks without permission?

What if men can spin hoops of any color, but women can spin only hoops of pink?

What if only rich people get those little beads that make the swishy sound inside the hoop?

What if tall people aren’t allowed to hula hoop at all?

The more we program hula hooping, the more we control it, institutionalize it, grant and forbid it, the more we wring the simple joy out of it. And with each rule, regulation, restriction, and privilege that we impose on hula hooping, the closer we come to the point at which we should, indeed, do away with hula hooping, altogether. Not because there’s anything rotten about hula hooping, but because there’s something rotten about us. It’s not that hula hooping might poison everything, but that everything might poison hula hooping.

What if hula hooping is not the problem, but the solution to the problem of our inclination to manipulate, abuse, and torment each other? Would hula hooping work its joyful magic if we just stepped back and let the hoops spin?

I can’t remember, exactly, but wasn’t it Jesus who said that hula hooping was made for people, and not the other way around?

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Image from WikiMedia Commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:U.S._Air_Force_Airman_Basic_Shamiya_Hill,_foreground,_with_the_336th_Training_Squadron,_participates_in_a_hula_hoop_competition_during_the_Air_Force%27s_66th_birthday_celebration_at_Keesler_Air_Force_Base,_Miss.,_S_130920-F-BD983-097.jpg