The images that come to mind when I think of India usually include people. I see crowds bathing in a river in a religous ceremony and masses of people at a street market, bicycles and cars and animals all using the same road. I think of masses a yellow marigolds from a movie of several years ago that told of two modern Indians marrying in a traditional ceremony. I think of another movie--Gandhi and again, masses of people following him into the water. I think of dusty lands, a hard dry climate. And I hear a music that draws me in, but I dont' quite understand. I think of Hindu gods with multiple arms and animal parts within their human bodies

And the images of China: I see the Great Wall stretching for miles and miles through mountains, as far as the eye can see. It's funny, although China is a heavily populated county, images of people don't come to mind as they do with India. And I see mountains rather than water. I also think of Tibet and the Dali Lama and Buddhist monks. The rice fields of Pearl Buck's books come to mind as do images of natural elements found within the I-Ching--water, mountains, wind.

Finally, images of the Middle East. I think of Jerusalem and holy palces. I see heat and beige buildings. But mostly I respond with an emotion rather than an image--the emotion of compassion. I feel so sorry for people living in that region. How does one stay innocent and open hearted amid the pervasive fear and hatred? What other part of the world has a wailing wall?

The Turkish tales reminded me immediately of the fairy tales our mother read to my sister and me when we were little--like Rapunzel and the Billy Goat's Gruff. There's an element of trickery--not harm, but slight of hand. The stories are parables or indirect lessons. All three stories included some sort of indirectness being the twist, like the indirect birth prediction of an old man and the indirect rescue of her marriage by a wife. Not unlike the Japanese, we Americans must seem direct to those from these other eastern and middle eastern cultures.

"Kani Yamabushi" and "Kamabara" were pure fun. Literally, play squared?

There's a tension within these Kyogen plays that gives the works their life and energy. What would seem to be severe limitations (24' square stage, minimal props, predetermined patterns of movement and voice) actually give rise to the passion that comes forth. It's like the squeezing soap metaphor--squeeze tightly and the soap expels outward. The characters' emotions are the soap. And so with humor as the intended outcome, the actors' comic telling of their stories explodes out of their bodies--one joke after another. It's great fun!

I do not know "one"liners" to associate with it, but a character comes to mind. Remember Frank in "M*A*S*H"? What a falsely courageous guy. Thought very highly of himself and loved (and used) the benefits and power of his rank within the army. But what a ninny!!!

One more thought....returning to the 24' stage. 24 is a significant number. 12 twice--12 months, a number of completion; 6 four times--6 a number of nurturing humanity; 4 three times--4 a number of foundations (4 corners of the earth, 4 cardinal directions); 3 four times--3 a number of spiritual and religious significance (trinity, etc.); and 2 twelve times--2 a number of balance and partnership. Like other components of Japanese culture, the stage dimensions are intentional and the gifts are in the unfolding.

Moving onto Japan--

My first impression when I think of Japan or Japanese culture is a mixed one. Io the deep respect for nature and an Eastern aesthetic. At the same time, I am intimidated by its people. I never knew why I felt intimidated until we read Hall's "Hidden Differences." As Hall pointed out, Americans seem to consider everyone their immediate friend, whereas Japanese, while polite to those they meet, reserve the status of "friend" for someone with whom they've bonded over a considerable length of time. So in instances of interacting w/ bits of Japanese culture (in larger cities w/ Japanese populations such as D.C. and L.A), I sensed that reserved quality and felt like my actions under the guise of "friendly behavior" were rejected. Now I understand they were perceived as intrusive to one who associates initial distance with respect.

What makes me laugh? Unexpected humor that plays into what it is to be human and trying to figure out or deal w/ regular life "stuff." Like the zefrank video that Peter Dean posted. And like the interaction on this site (turn your sound on and check out "manic mode"): http://www.saab-stuff.com/pop.swf. However, I don't like "humor" that hurts another, such as a practical jokes or something that makes someone looks bad. Cruelty disguised as humor is still cruelty...

"Hotel Rwanda" has shaken my perception of Africa. In answer to last week's question, I had thought of Africa as a continent. More specifically, as a land--open space, sky, grasslands, sun. I also knew I really enjoyed some of the music that was making its way into American mainstream music. I hated the apartheid of South Africa and remember well the killings in the news and Nelsen Mandela's release.

What "Rwanda" shifted for me was opening me to an understanding from within, as opposed to the "outsider" view. Much like the character Paul in the first half of the movie, I contextualized Africans in regard to whom they interacted with--if that makes any sense at all. I only saw how they were impacted by "outsiders," not from within. Or if it was from within, it was in relation to oppression such as South Africa. So when I heard on the news in the early 1990's of the internal strife in Rwanda, I did not "see" and did not understand the horrows of the events. And quiet honestly, I'm ashamed of that. I didn't know the difference between a Tutsi and a Hutu, and pretty much dismissed it as civil war somewhere across the world.

Now that I think about it more, I realize I thought the same way with Yogoslavia when that country was disintegrating. I had no idea of the diference between a Bosnian and a Serb. I still don't. I don't understand the hate in the Middle East, either. Or the tension between China and Tibet, or China and Taiwan, or for that matter, America and Iraq, and now the internal killings in Iraq. Just as in Rwanda, there are daily horrors that we have no clue about...What's the phrase for it? Ethnic genocide?

Maybe it comes back to Paul's statement that he didn't understand man's cruelty to man. Is there really any difference in cruelty between equals or between a dominant entity and a weaker one? I don't think so... None of it is good. I'm glad we're now in a time where techology allows millions of people to see the horrors--so maybe it won't be so far removed we can't remain ignorant...

Dancing as a child--that brought back memories... My dad was half Scottish and we grew up with the sound of bagpipes and drums--very primal now that l look back at it. And I guess "primal" is the base notion of dance for me. I've always responded to music and especially drums, so much so that I had to learn to hold myself back. In my own room, with the music loud, I used to mimic playing drums. As I became older and more self-conscious, I realized other girls didn't do "air drums" and so I learned to just move one hand a little...sad...

But put me in a car by myself on a summer night, heading to the beach with all the windows open, the music is up, my right hand is drumming and I am in heaven!

I have a picture postcard of Bruce Springsteen on my refridgerator. It's attached to the fridge by the magnet words: "The man said go dance". I'm 46 and grew up w/ his music. I've seen him perform live quite a few times over the last (yikes) 25 years. And really, to say "seen him perform" is a misnomer. Instead, when attending a concert, I am aware of being one of thousands at a time who come together to connect on a very primal basis. (there is primal again!) There's something that moves into us and through us, collectively, and we dance and come alive for those few hours. And then when it is over, and we all are leaving, we carry with us the memory of that collective primal experience. It's as if somehow we've been transformed back to who we are at our core--emotions of joy, love, anger, fear--all that comes through and we remember that we are connected and in this together as humans, doing the best we can...