Today the HPAC orchestra had the pleasure of being in the presence of Ryoko Moriyama, the "Joan Baez of Japan." She is one of those people who seems to smile with effortless joy and playfulness, a spirited youth in her mid-60s. Fearless and innocent, for her there seems to be no such thing as a mistake or judgement. The audience created a vacuum with their ears, listening, and she fell into it creating a mutual bed of trust and comfort.
She carries such easiness and freedom of expression in the bright lights. Perhaps she goes back to her dressing room and becomes human again, but in that time that she is onstage she offers the world a chance to see a new way of living where there are no problems, only beautiful songs and carefree smiles.
The other night at dinner I was reminded of something I had thought about when I stayed at a Buddhist temple a month ago and watched the monks perform rituals for the benefit of the guests and others. The way that certain people in society are assigned the task of carrying something for everyone, of representing or reminding the rest of the world of something important, but which, for whatever reason, is not practiced in daily life. Why do people go to church, why do they go to temple, why do they go to a performance or a concert?
It seems so beautiful that individuals can carry and cultivate within them, and share with others, whatever it is that has such seemingly immense value. Something that brings us outside of ourselves. But how does this role emerge? What is the burden, what is the cost, what is the benefit to both those that perform such roles and to those that witness them? Surely we are all human.
No comments:
Post a Comment