"Life is not the finishing of events. It is a continuation. Each day you do what needs to be done with the understanding that there is no end to the doing. You find pleasure in the doing or you live in a tornado." - Isaac from HIR, a play by Taylor Mac.
Posts filed under Thought
Thoughts on History - Japan's Victory in the Japanese-Russian War
Previously posted on Facebook
Two years ago, I couldn't have cared less what the Japanese-Russian war of 1904-1905 was and what it meant.
While reading and researching Four Immigrants Manga, however, I learned that the Japanese victory in the war meant a great deal of pride for an Asian nation that was trying to prove its might in the face of Western super-powers. And I thought, "I get that. How cool for the Japanese at that time to feel proud of that victory." A sort of "We've finally arrived; we'll finally be taken seriously" kind of moment.
But while reading Quiet Odyssey, a first-hand account of Mary Paik Lee - a first-generation Korean immigrant who came to the US in 1904, that thought has been colored differently. In her memoirs, Lee explains that her family fled Korea in order to escape the Japanese in the aftermath of the Japanese-Russian war. The Japanese victory had opened the door for Japanese occupation of the Korean Peninsula, thus leading to nearly half-a-century of devastating violence against and oppression of the Korean people. This leads to the Pacific events of World War II, which leads to the splitting of Korea along the 38th parallel, which leads to the Korean War, which leads directly to the hardships of my parents - both born just a year before the Korean War began.
Which leads eventually to their desire for a better life in the States, which somehow, oddly enough, leads to my existence.
(Incidentally, all this also leads to the recent Sony Pictures fiasco - not my parents' hardships or me being born, but the stuff before that.)
This simultaneously blows my mind and hurts it. Because we want these things to be easy narratives. We want things to be obviously good or obviously bad. Or at least mostly one or the other. But it almost feels like cause-and-effect just goes on automatic, and it doesn't come with a predetermined meaning. I read into it the meaning I can gather, and the danger is that I will fail to realize that every story doesn't just have another side, but has perhaps an infinite number of sides.
There's also a danger in forgetting that I am not an objective observer of history's chains of events. That I come to it with my well-thought reasoning, my less-well-thought speculations, and my unconsciously active prejudices.
For the record, this is not me being angry at the Japanese or trying to place blame ("After all, I have Japanese friends!" wink-wink). I think it's just another instance of awe in the face of history's complexity.
Now... if I could just make a musical out of all this...
Creativity Quotation #7
“When we become expert in something, our tastes grow more esoteric and complex.” - Malcolm Gladwell, author of Blink
Min's Musings: On Awe and Perspective
Every quarter, I like to visit Grace Cathedral for a little self-check-in time. I call it my quarterly "pilgrimage," when, for a few hours, I get away from work, stay off the internet, and allow for reflection. On my pilgrimage earlier this week, I began to consider why I enjoyed performing this ritual so much. What was it that I gained that made the trek so worthwhile? Craning my neck up towards the high ceilings of the church, I recognized within myself a sensation that can only be described as awe. Awe is what brings me back to Grace, what entices me back to these more silent moments of thought. Truth is, I long for awe in my life.
Some might say that inner peace or clarity of mind is what is sought after in self-reflection. For me, these are actually the results of starting from a place of awe. Awe involves an encounter with something that is beyond myself. There is an element of befuddlement and wonder - a recognition that something is so big, vast, profound, complex or beyond knowing that I am left gaping or sighing without much to say. At face value, it might seem that the natural response to this is fear. If something is so unfathomable, it would make sense that people would steer clear of it. I think much of consumer culture is a series of attempts at turning away from that which would hold us in awe.
Many religious folk might say that when we are in awe, we are re-connecting with the divine love of God. Moments of awe are really moments of beholding God. And the fact that God Almighty, who is perhaps the most fearful being in the universe, would deign to let us ponder God Almighty is seen as a definition of grace. An awesome thought, indeed. And not necessarily one I disagree with.
But something that has bothered me about that line of thought is how packaged the whole thing comes out. Clearly defining the experience of awe with such unabashed certitude seems to... well, de-awe the whole thing. The emotional responses of love, hope and even fear seem to be what comes after awe. But what I wanted to know, sitting in the Cathedral as groups of tourists snapped photo after photo of the building's grandeur, was why was I drawn to awe itself? I recognize my need for love and hope, but those aren't the reasons why I go to Grace. I enjoy being in awe - but why?
Grace's latest environmental art installment. Isn't it awe-some?
The best answer I could find for myself that day was perspective. Awe is a moment of perspective revision. When I gaze upon the Cathedral, when I take in a view of the Grand Canyon, when I ponder God and existence, the common thread is that my perspective is shattered. Something that doesn't seem possible is, or something that once seemed so simple is inconceivable. In any case, awe occurs when my grasp on reality is disturbed. In the cases of nature or art, that disturbance is often delightfully surprising. But awe isn't always so kind. Awe can yield paralyzing fear and horror. But my point is that any awesome encounter, regardless of the emotional result, brings a new or wider perspective (even if it means a disorienting one). And as someone who loves the idea of continual growth and evolution through life, this perspective shift is what draws me to awe again and again.
Now let's get real. Am I always in this happy, fuzzy state where awe is always welcome? Of course not. I love mental distractions and simple thinking as much as any other person who watches Sailor Moon fanatically... Nor am I saying we should always be in awe, because quite frankly I don't think anything would get done in the world if we were in a constant state of getting our mind blown ("Double rainbow...What does it mean...?"). But every now and again, I think creating space for that awe to well up in me does me a great amount of good, keeping my perspective in check and reminding me of my size in the scheme of things. It's kinda awesome.
The Olympus Surprise Song
This is not what writing is like all the time.
Writing is taxing work. I can spend hours on a single section of dialogue choosing, re-choosing, deleting, re-ordering words, and still end the day feeling like I barely made a step forward. Writing music with lyrics gets even more complicated because there is the added aural dimension which will affect mood, atmosphere and story. What key? What's the tonality? When should notes rise and fall? Which words should be emphasized? Am I emphasizing the correct syllables as if the words were spoken? This laboring over details makes up the majority of my work when I write songs - toiling over rhyme, meter and melody as if trying to solve a riddle, often leading to frustration, but usually resulting in a rewarding finish if I stick with it.
And then there are the surprise songs.
These are the song moments in my shows that come together as if by magic on the first go. The songs that show me why people came to believe in Muses as angelic voices inspiring people to write, paint, perform. They often end up with a depth or flow that I could not have imagined when I first set about writing them. And each of my shows so far has had at least one surprise song. Below, I discuss the development of one of them.
"I Used To Weave" from Tales of Olympus
I knew I wanted to include the story of Athena and Arachne when I was conceptualizing Tales. The problem with adapting the myth, however, was that Athena is completely justified in punishing Arachne for her pride and insults against the gods. So I asked the questions "What if Arachne really was a better weaver than Athena? What if transforming Arachne into a spider was a result of Athena losing her composure and acting impetuously?" And then this question came, which set the tone of the song: "What if Athena has not been able to weave ever since the 'Arachne incident,' because the act is a nagging reminder of her lowest moment?"
Then came the opening lyrics "I used to weave..."
Calliope (Chrissy Brooks), Zeus (Steven Shear), Hermes (Min Kahng) and Aphrodite (Lauren Spencer) tell Athena (Michelle Drexler) she's not so bad.
This set-up allowed the song to have layers. We get to know Athena as a fuller character, and more importantly as a flawed character. In regards to character arc: by singing "I Used To Weave" Athena is finally giving in and telling a story, when previously she sat to the side, unwilling to participate. There is also a key revelation about the relationships on Olympus. At the end of the song, the other gods console Athena, showing for the first time that this dysfunctional, leftover group of gods is really a family of sorts. The song also contains some of my favorite lyrics:
Now I'm best of who's left
But I've lost all the joy
Of creating a blanket, a scarf or a sleeve
And each spider I see is a reason to grieve
I used to weave...
There's something about the words best, left, lost, blanket, scarf, sleeve, spider and grieve with their blended, recurring consonants and their simplicity. This combined with the sense of loss and regret with which the words are sung (performed masterfully by both Michelle Drexler in the world premiere, and by Rebecca Pingree for the staged reading) pulls at my heart in a way that's difficult to describe, except to say I am moved.
"I Used To Weave" is my favorite song in Tales of Olympus. It has also remained largely unchanged from its original draft, which is understandable: Surprise songs, formed from an outflow of sudden inspiration, usually don't need major revisions.