Spirituality

AS I'VE WRITTEN BEFORE, I had the lie of Age=Authority shown to me early in life. Whether it was the peer beat-downs that sometimes found me due to my being a tiny kid; the police occasionally appearing as adversaries to my family or their friends; the rebellious music I grew up hearing; the fact that my caretakers were at times drastically incompetent or hostile or both; or certain teachers displaying inappropriate stupidity, immaturity, or outright aggression—I labored under no belief that big people were infallible or expert.

I moved around. A lot. In some places, I found that this skepticism was not necessarily the norm in my peer groups. Some friends (most, in some areas) seemed to have kneejerk reactions to authority, be it teacher, priest, police, or parent. That reaction was to publicly obey, even to fear, to reflexively genuflect. Regardless of what the friend said, felt, or did in private. I did not, at least, suffer that contradiction. Perhaps that is unfortunate...and yet in the world I've known, it was best. Either way, it eventually labeled me as insubordinate, rebellious, and trouble. But what is a child to do in the face of fake and often-harmful authority—but rage?

The realization hit me over and over, though. I think we have a sense built in, a sense that expects the aged to know more. It would stand to reason. Biologically sound. Perpetuates necessary bonds and perhaps life-saving obeisance to caretakers.

Our first systems of hierarchy are probably age. Kids boast of a quarter-year seniority on each other, and it means all the world, and none of them argue the standard of measurement. It makes sense. Because even one day in a life can add an unmeasurable amount of wisdom. Should we choose to take it.

That's the thing. That's what rose up and hit me again. Even with all I had learned about authority figures, I was stunned later to realize how many adults remained as children. And I don't mean childlike. I mean childish.

There's nothing like it! The old, the new, the coming-soon and the never-was blend seamlessly. Multidiscipline, multicultural and lingual, multieverything. I think Cirque du Soleil shows are incomparable even to each other, though the NYTimes review of "Corteo" opening last night suggests it's the only comparison we should even attempt.

[quote=John Rockwell]Drawing, like other major circuses, from the same international pool of small traveling circuses and circus schools, augmented by fresh talent from Eastern Europe and Asia, Cirque du Soleil has elevated the once marginal and innovative "new circus" experiments of Europe into an international brand name.

The Cirque format has surpassed the older-fashioned. . .
This is another exercise in slightly fey Cirque fantasizing
. . . accompanied by the sort of music mimes would make if mimes made music.[/quote]

I saw their resort show at DisneyWorld's Pleasure Island a few years ago, from the equivalent of center court, only three rows from the stage -- at any moment I was sure the tower of 50 chairs would fall directly on my head or a careening vehicle would drive off the lipless edge into my lap. And performers did come into the seats from all directions, you never quite knew what was coming or what it meant. Talk about live!

What a week for trying to walk, talk, learn and think at the same time!

First, our 10-year-old son is listening to NPR in the car when he's riveted by news of an important fossil discovery linking fish and land creatures, a so-called tetrapod, lifeforms that left the water to walk on land.

He isn't interested in the news or politics, although he just
discovered Stephen Colbert and gets some of the comedy. He likes the
split screen where the contradictory wisecracks are on the right as
Stephen pontificates on the left. It reminds him of the wisecracking
moose commentary on the Brother Bear DVD.

But yesterday in the car, he suddenly wanted us to turn it up, so
he could hear all about the new fossil link. That was the first really
interesting "news" worth hearing, he proclaimed, but there wasn't enough
to the story. (He actually said this, exactly that way, pronouncing
judgment like a seasoned media critic.)
Intense investigation ensues when we can get online, after which my little boy, who has never been made to think about anything, hugs me with a goofy grin and says, "Hello, my fellow tetrapod!"

A certain person who shall remain unnamed practices Santeria. Now, given this person is probably a poster child for the US Heartland, I've just got to say that it totally knocked me over when said person mentioned the orishas.

WOW! Santeros are everywhere.

I grew up with santeria (yes, my parents were Catholics and Pagans) and so I've spent most of my life walking away from it. As y'all know, I'm an atheist. But ... but ... this , person has been telling, "you know, light a candle, girl, light a candle". Of course, I've hemmed and hawed about it. Then Mr. Man reminded me of a story he read somewhere.

An anthropologist is in some South Pacific island. The "natives" are performing a ceremony before building a fence. The anthropologist asks why to his translator. The translator thinks for a moment and says : "The magic wroks best when we build a strong fence". The prayer, the ceremony, the rituals are not because magic is in them, it's because magic happens when people believe it will be so. It gives them strenght, pumps them up, energizes them, inspires them.

Well, I'm gonna pump that server up.

Here you've got it, las siete potencias africanas, who will hopefully maintain the smooth going of our site :

If you need to know ... my guardian angel or orisha is Oshun (we write it Ochun in Puerto Rico). The colors of the old culturekitchen were an homage to my potencia : golden yellow, green, white and orange.

More after the jump...