Today (Sunday) I went to church. I got out of the house around 8am, and took the bus in direction of the outer Sunset district, where I was to meet for three hours with clown teacher/mentor
Dan Griffiths.
I had met him for a drink on Friday evening, after going to
The Garage and attending a showcase of work in progress by resident artists, one of which he has been directing. Sitting around the pub table after the show, we talked about the particularities of doing 'therapeutic' clowning (he would say that all clowning is therapeutic) for seniors, about the difference between art and entertainment, and about the ritualistic lineage of all performance art.
I like him a lot. I get the sense that he's coming from the same place as I am. So I asked if he would work with me, as a guide to clowning and the creation of some original material I have been dreaming up for some time. He said, ''How about Sunday morning? Let's be crazy and do like 9... to noon, what do you say?"
It was no sacrifice at all to have such a commitment on a Sunday morning. As far as I was concerned, I was simply going to church.
The play space he has created in his garage is simple and efficient: he has simply rolled out an old rug, and set up a chair in front of it. We did a gradual warm-up, (i.e. stretches and spine rolls), followed by some basic tai chi/kung fu exercises, before we were to explicitly entered the world of clown. The first exercise constituted of him sitting in the chair, and me leaving the space to re-enter "as clown", which is to say, with the most total awareness of myself and my surroundings as is possible.
Clowns tell the truth about what is there.
That's why clowns are healers; they are bringers of light.
Further exercises consisted of pointing at things I noticed and sharing my findings and reactions with him, first in a non-verbal way, then with only sounds, then with their names (which made me very excited! But is it because I am empowered by the ability of naming objects? Or is it because I delight in sharing in clear, common understanding with someone? It is surely both.), and finally, he had me do the exercise in which one points at things and calls them by another name. It was hard; the gears in my brain were slow to click. I felt the pressure of time, and I put pressure on myself to be quick, spontaneous, and creative. I would get flustered; I could hear my inner critic step in the stream of consciousness I was trying to join, "You're not original enough! It's taking you too long! Come on, name this! You're stuck.. again!"
We talked about what was happening, and he then asked me to celebrate every instance of feeling stuck, or mistaken, etc. In doing the exercise I ended up laughing, to the point of tears, in genuine acknowledgment of such a recurring phenomenon: the inner judge.
It was pretty funny.
What if I did just that, on stage?
For the third part of "the class", he had the idea of going out into the outside world. "Monks go out in pairs like that, amongst the people, to contemplate the world as it is," he said. So we took a field trip to an Asian supermarket down the street from his house, and going inside we proceeded to follow our curiosity and to share our findings with one another. Dried up shrimps and other snacks, vegetables and fruits we didn't know the names of, garlic and cucumber and mango preserves, sea urchins and razor crabs and red beans ice cream and candies from the other side of the globe: there is so much I am not familiar with!
The sun came to its zenith, and so class ended; but for me more magic on the horizon as I did as I had planned and walked just a couple of blocks... to Ocean beach!
Sand dollars had washed up on the sand... by the dozens! There were all kinds of people there. I can't believe I live so close to the Pacific Ocean like this, and that I so rarely take the time to go be with it/Her. But hey, all is perfect. "There is nothing to be done," claims Dan. I have been wanting to come say hello, especially because of what happened to Japan recently. I have earthquakes and tsunamis on my mind. I have the powers of nature on my mind, and I needed to meet with them.
I gathered a handful of sand dollars in record time. They are so perfectly beautiful and fascinating... so...
pentaradially symmetric! Like flowers, like trees, like all the gifts of a natural world so purposeful in its designs.
Of course, it made me think of the recent tragedy of Japan. I thought of how the same waters, which bring us such beautiful shells offerings, are the same waters that destroyed the lives of hundreds of Japanese people only a week or so ago. I looked at the pile of fragile yet unbroken shells I held in my hand. I wondered if it was not sacrilegious to think of bringing them home with me, just 'cause they're so beautiful. I was just coming the conclusion that it all depends on the intention and mindfulness behind the actions, and then, just like that, I proceeded to create a little altar on the sand... I found a red plastic cap, and around it I laid a series of white, perfectly round and whole, sand dollars: the Japanese flag.
Unfortunately, I think that something like that might have the potential to upset people. (Or is it that I am actually partly doing it out of spite? And for who? For what?) But as I built the mandala I came closer to my real purpose: speaking the truth. There is no way that these people who take walks on the beach are not thinking of the tsunami. But I'm not trying to scare them. (Even though, we
are scared indeed!) I am not saying "this could happen to you too", but rather, "Let us recognize our connection with the plight of the Japanese people, and thus send our prayers for the suffering they are going through." It is the suffering of a global world now. Now that we are finally realizing how interconnected everything is.
 |
| An impermanent, interactive memorial |
Nobody noticed my interactive art piece. I put a pile of red rocks, and another of white shells, next to the flag I had started to compose on the sand. I wrote "Rest in Peace" as a title, and "Add to the piece, make a prayer." next to the surpluses. But I didn't see anybody even notice it.
We are indeed like grains of sand on this planet. And if my gesture remained unseen it nevertheless exists. I hope that my prayer might please our Mother the Ocean. I hope that magic may still be possible.
I walked a long way along the beach, but eventually decided to the go to street level, because I wasn't sure how far I had come.
What's the saying? "God acts in mysterious ways"?
I had not passed five blocks when I came across the very clown woman I had seen performed on Friday night. (I had never met her before then, or even heard of her.) Call it coincidence. It's a good-looking word after all.
Our conversation quickly reached deeper grounds, and within minutes I knew I was meeting a friend, a peer, a clown.
I don't quite remember how it came on the subject, but she invited me to her apartment to learn how to make balloon sculptures! Had I ever thought I would experience anything like this? Nope. But there I was, following a generous stranger clown fella, on our way to make poodles out of multicolored balloons.
"Balloons - or juggling, for that matter - have nothing to do with clowning," she admitted. To which I quickly replied, "It's a pretext to establish a connection with people though."
"But it's a good way to make money here in the U.S." she added, "People like that you give them something they can own."
Wow.
We drank tea, and ate herring in paprika sauce on crackers, and I learned the techniques to twisting balloons into dogs and flowers, all the while exchanging musings on the meaning of artistic integrity and thematic tendencies. (She has just recently discovered she is "a burlesque clown". She wonders what to do, how to bridge her creative endeavors with the realities of working with kids in her day job.
It's a tricky one, indeed.) She's [also] going to Europe in the Fall. ;)
--
So all in all: an incredibly magical Sunday in the outer Sunset.
I came home to my apartment to find my roommate Robyn. I like her too, she's a very intelligent and powerful woman. When we discuss, I can feel both of us growing in spirit.
I asked her if she'd be interested in creating a Goddess altar in the house.
I feel myself stepping into sacred territories.. stepping into myself... as a sacred vessel.
Axé!
AND, well it was Harvey and I's last show together... at least for a while. Seven-or-so months, of working together, and there we were, having come soooo far! There we were, the trans-national, genderstranged clown duo... playing on stage at one of the most queerlicious spots on the planet. We did it! We co-created this absurdist/extremely meaningful (contradiction? sure!) piece of clown theater. We put in those countless hours of rehearsals, organization, and fundraising, and made our project soar all the way across the Atlantic! What a team. What an eccentric duo. What a work ethic. What a perfect dynamic for me to explore my aesthetics, my emotions, my limitations. I am so thankful Harvey came into my life, I know our relationships is beyond those seven months, I know there is much more for us to share.
