That moment when you calculate the moon phases in 1521 and can now reckon time precisely in the world of your novel. Kilat-kilat, the time when the moon is a flash of lightning. Ah, twenty-first century tech meets the precolonial Philippines!
One of the things I love about Chicago is its vibrant theater and performance scene. Every neighborhood seems to have its own venue for great local plays or live readings. It’s a chance to unplug and get face to face with beautiful stories – so close, in fact, you can often see the actors sweat!
From what I’ve seen in Chicago, playwrights, directors, and actors are working hard to make what they bring to stage poignant, earnest, and real.
One Chicago talent is Matthew Johnston whose play “The 30-Year Gap” has one more performance of its World Premiere at the Public House Theatre. “The 30-Year Gap” is a story about Chris (Nate Speckman) and George (Gavin Donnellan), a nephew and an uncle, both gay and who come of age in two different time periods – 1978 and 2008.
Johnston described the focus of his play this way: “The main issue is how his life has changed between 1978 and 2008 and why exactly Uncle George hasn’t come out of the closet, the fear of being rejected, the fear of losing friends, jobs, housing, etc.” This is in sharp contrast to Chris’ experience coming out in 2008 to the support and celebration of friends and family. The play flashes back and forward between the two intertwined lives as Chris strives to help his uncle embrace, without shame, his love of other men.
I saw “The 30-Year Gap” with a couple of girlfriends. We were charmed by the actors, particularly Nate Speckman’s performance. But the real star of the play, we unanimously agreed, is Johnston’s dialogue. Crisp banter organically segues into the serious terrain of love, loss, violence, and then resurfaces with tenderness. I was surprised at the range of emotions Johnston could evoke in 80 minutes. Rare.
There are plot twists and at least one major surprise which I won’t spoil here. Let’s just say, look out for “the Light”. Light and love manifest in the most unexpected way. The “The 30-Year Gap” challenges the audience to ask itself: “Who counts in our society? Who do we count as lovable and worthy? How do we limit society when we limit who we love and respect?” (The playwright might disagree. But that’s what great art is about, right Matt? The work takes on a life of its own and connects with the audience in ways we may not expect.)
I highly recommend “The 30-Year Gap”. In fact, it’s scandalous that you can watch great theater for $10! Go forth and see this performance while you still have the chance. Tickets are even discounted on Goldstar.com.
Public House Theatre. 3914 N. Clark. Tickets: 773-230-4770 Last performance: Thursday, April 28th.
I love history. One of the best things about writing a novel is the historical research I get to do. You learn that human beings weren’t so different in the past – love, hate, passion, war, the search for meaning, worth, safety and peace. You also learn that, as a species, humanity is amazingly versatile and open in our thinking.
Today, in 2016, we Westerners can talk about this exquisite planet we live on in terms of biodiversity, economics, politics, climate patterns, technology. But I am reaching back to the precolonial Philippines, to my ancestors – to a time when each mountain, river, stream, and ancient tree was understood to be the dwelling place of a diwata, a nature spirit. A god or goddess. Nature was not only biomass, it was sacred.
Okay, take a breath, my darlings. Take my hand, for just this moment and don’t let go. I’ve gotcha. Put the hat of Western skepticism and rationalism on a safe shelf for now. Take this journey to long-ago Southeast Asia with me.
It was not a paradise. It was not a fantasy. It was simply a place where nature was alive.
The implications were this: A tree was not just a tree, it was the dwelling place of the gods. So you don’t just cut a tree down. You ask it for permission. You pray for its safety and blessing. It provides you, at the right time of year so that you don’t deplete its life, with timber for a house, a canoe, an outrigger. You transform the body of the tree. But the spirit of the tree continues…in the things you use everyday. Everything has a spirit. Everything, like you, has a spiritual consciousness and is alive.
Today, in places where people hold the understanding that land, water, air, and plant-life are sacred…the Earth is tended, protected, and loved. And the land loves back, providing nourishment and incredible beauty.
How would we live if we experienced the trees, lakes, rivers, mountains, cliffs, prairies, glaciers, and oceans as holy and alive? What would we do differently?
In front of my meditation window is a beautiful honeylocust tree. I have been witnessing it for 2 years. One day, a week or so ago, I saw that a mylar balloon was stuck in the highest branches. I was very annoyed. Then, I noticed my mind being annoyed. I let the feeling come and go like a wave. Why should I let such a little thing disturb my peace of mind? The neighbors whose tree it is have moved and my ladder will not reach the deflated balloon to remove it. I congratulated myself for coming to a sense of peace.
Last night, a family went on top of the sledding hill – a set of 10 mylar balloons in hand and boisterous, happy children. Now, there are 4 mylar balloons stuck in the honeylocust tree’s branches.
I had to laugh. Hubris.
Perhaps one day soon a practical answer will arise: how to serve this old tree and remove the glittering litter. But it sure teaches me something about the perfectionist nature of my own mind. Do all conditions have to be perfect for me to be at peace?
I went to the Gene Siskel Center last night to see Matt Yamashita’s “Sons of Halawa” which was a beautiful story about the continuity of tradition in Molokai, Hawai’i. (See my previous post.) Also watched Tadashi Nakamura and Keoni Lee’s film “Mele Murals” which I loved. Hip-hop meets indigenous Hawaiian spirituality. This film was beautiful and honest. Two artists, Prime and Estria, teach students at Waimea charter schools how to paint murals. At the school, students are learning Hawaiian language – to read and write in it – as well as their history. They also learn hula. For someone like me, a Filipina American, this is beyond amazing. It brought tears to my eyes to see the love with which this school treasures Hawaiian language, music, dance, and stories. But here’s the thing. To the kids in the film, who were brought up with hula and all, they seemed…a bit bored. Like they needed a new way forward with their culture, a way to make culture their own. It reminds me of what’s happening with Pinoy kids and tinikling in America – mixing the power of hip hop into our traditional dances. Culture is a living, dynamic thing. And, from what I am seeing, when kids can make it their own, they can relate. It goes deeper.
The other thing that was breath-taking to me about both films is that it shows Hawaiian spirituality with such love. Christianity and indigenous spirituality side-by-side. This was not the point, necessarily, of either of the documentaries. But it struck a chord with me because so much of indigenous spirituality in many cultures, including Filipino, is based on the love of nature, the spirit(s) of nature, respect for the land and the water bodies. When the communities in both films, “Sons of Halawa” and “Mele Murals” engage more deeply with their indigenous traditions, the result, for them, seems to be joy and peace.
Mahalo, salamat, and thanks to the film-makers Matt, Tadashi, and Keoni for bringing their stellar documentaries out into the world!
Welcome to Chicago “Sons of Halawa“! The story of elder Anakala Pilipo Solatorio who is searching for a way to pass on his beautiful cultural traditions of music and dance in the Halawa Valley. Sincerity and the sacred. I’m really looking forward to this film, especially as my friend, the darling, Jason Poole is singing in it. Bonus: June Tanoue and her Halau i Ka Pono will be doing a hula presentation. (Yes, my hula teacher. Can’t wait!)
There were still tix an hour ago. Quick, quick – reserve yours! Part of the 21st Asian American Showcase. Saturday, April 9th. 7:30 p.m. Gene Siskel Film Center.
As of last night: SOLD OUT!
My new poem, “Mountain Beauty” (<– here) was just published on elephant journal, a wonderful online forum I love. May it be of benefit.
Women, how do you feel, embrace, or define beauty as you age? Men-folk, what about you? Please post your answers on elephant journal. Thanks, salamat!
‘Tis the season of giving. My friends and I in the Oak Park Arts District are organizing a Donation Drive for the Philippines through December 30th. Please consider donating canned goods, tee shirts, first aid kits, blankets, or toiletries to the families devastated by Typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda). Drop boxes are located on and around Harrison Street: Buzz Cafe, Magical Minds Studio, Bead in Hand, Val’s Halla Records, Musikgarten of Oak Park, and East Gate Cafe. Spread the word. Thanks, in advance, for your generosity of spirit!