Really Undoing Racism

The parade of slayings and obscene statistics have finally yanked our attention to the crime of racism in America.  Eyes open, horrified and heartbroken, we march and protest.  "Black Lives Matter!" chant Whites and Blacks together, coming together to rise up and defeat the oppressor, or at least get him to put a camera on.  

Several months ago, during a formal conversation on healing racism, a zen teacher--Kodo Sensei, the first Black woman to receive dharma transmission, asked a question that sounded to me like "What's in it for White People?"   The question spun itself around in my guts like a sharply angled koan.

For one thing, White people want

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Yes, Doctor. May I see your computer?

It started out well enough.  The pain specialist in the spine department--let's call him Dim--was friendly and respectful, and did a quick and gentle exam of my neck.  Then he brought me into his office, offered a seat while he communicated with his computer as he complained that electronic medical records were ruining his practice.  I sympathized; he continued on about how this keeps him up at night, then asked me many questions that had nothing to do with my neck, presumably required by the machine he was facing.

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Rise up, Old Woman!

Julianne, photo by Nicolas Genin"Well, she is more contemporary," the young lady clarified when I looked mystified. We were at a networking event for filmmakers and actors, and I had boldly raised my objection to the disappearance of older women.  She responded by kindly offering hope that things were changing, and presented Julianne Moore as an example of an aging star.  Thinking hard, she filled out her list of two by including an actress in her 30s.

Her 30s.

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Zen Retreat Redux: Sit. Stay.

I didn't see it coming.  

Unlike the high drama and torture of last year, this zen retreat was relatively uneventful, which is to say it was a veritable cauldron of long-forgotten demons, physical pain, boredom, and large helpings of bliss.   Nothing special.  So, when I came home I was surprised to discover vast swaths of freedom in my life where previously there were tiny little congested closets.

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Is Birdman Pretending?

Even before I saw Birdman, a Facebook debate captured my attention.   One avid intellectual questioned why another would call a movie pretentious if it aspires to be arty rather than sensational.  My first attempt to see it was foiled by a sold-out house, but finally I managed to score a seat.  Already by the opening sequence--so beautiful and evocative--I felt little bubbles of happiness, and then the sight of Michael Keaton's naked back, levitating while meditating, was strangely moving.

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Black Lives Matter

My heart filled with hope when I witnessed this march, both because of the energetic young black leadership and because of the honesty and participation of white folk.  sorry I didn't realize I could turn my new iphone sideways, but still...

Demons and Death. @clown

It's not all fun and games.  That ridiculous clown up there making us laugh has an inner life too, and sometimes it hurts.  In a profound and quite enjoyable workshop with master clown René Bazinet, the topic of demons popped up.  Rewarded for their failures, applauded for their most embarrassing moments, clowns are reinforced for roughly the opposite of what is normal behavior. For those who lap up attention and approval (are there really performers who don't?), such conditions can produce some mighty twisted stuff.  Amy G, photo by Ian DarsonSo in performances that invite intimacy and truth, we are sure to see clown innards

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Purpose and Politics

My Honeymoon in Chernobyl, photo by Ian DarsonDo clowns have a purpose?  Those of you who are old enough may understand what happens as you begin to glimpse mortality.On occasion at least, the inclination to cling to this narrow self drops away and we begin to consider what we transmit to the ever-changing world in which we have such a teeny cameo.  Whether or not we plan it, we do transmit, and so it is with clowns, but some use the platform to show us something important.

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Truth! What is it?

Clockwise from Left: La Cita (photo by Melibea Garavito), Giovanni (photo by Craig Behenna), Red Bastard (photo by Justin Bernhaut), Almost Definitely (photo by Julianna Rusakiewicz)
"It's not as big as I thought," observed the clown after he stripped.  This was the second time in one weekend I was treated to a naked penis on stage (no, I will not tell you which performances; it's a surprise).  What better way to reveal powerlessness beneath bravado?  It's a theme I've seen again and again in the NY Clown Theatre Festival,

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For the Love of Clowns

Love and War.  What else is there?  Ok, there are dishes to do, so we can stop and think about love, or war, or the love of war, or the war of love.  Freud famously obsessed about sex and aggression, even when all those other stressed-out Victorians tried not to notice.  Civilization depends on good manners, so you can be sure that the clown, who treads where ordinary humans are too polite to go, will usually be mucking around in love or war, or both together.  In my last post, I extolled the virtues of "Fuck You!" in freeing the clown to play.  But...Love.  Love is what powers the clown.  Love is why the clown meets the audience, well mostly, anyway.

Poofy du VeyIn the marvelous Burden of Poof, the shimmeringly vulnerable Poofy du Vey expresses her struggle with her longing for love.  As she goes into the audience to find helpers, we can see she is both terrified and compelled to connect.  Don't we often make neat little systems to contain screamingly undefinable important matters?  Poofy makes a touching to-do list, containing perfectly normal tasks, and,

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