June 12 -Simultaneously at home and foreign
Kazuki and Hiromi sit at a long table with 4 heart-shaped pieces of onigiri in front of them at dinner. They are surrounded by other members of the Technos program, largely wearing bright pink shirts.
June 12 - It Isn’t Clean
live with intention
focus found in wasabi
quiet on the bus
Today was everything. And by that I mean every thing.
I’m starting with the lessons / observations that mean the most to me. They may feel obvious or stereotypical in some ways. They feel that way to me as an American who has heard a lot about Japanese culture being committed to the protection of the whole and for whom this was a large draw in participating in the Technos program. And yet, these simple observations hold a world of meaning for me.
As some of you may know, I have always enjoyed processing things through haiku (and other short, syllabically-focused forms of poetry). I appreciate the sensation of encapsulating nuanced experiences in just a few words and sounds. It focuses my responses to what I am experiencing and asks me to learn from what I am doing. To think clearly. Today I learned this clarity practiced in the way my hosts approached the art of dining. “It’s not clean,” Professors Kazuki, Hiromi, and Jun explained when asked about the Japanese practice of applying soy sauce and wasabi neatly and separately to nigiri as opposed to mixing the wasabi into the soy sauce and then dipping the rice portion of the nigiri into the mixture. This moment was a reminder of the power of purpose, presence, and intentionality, lessons I apply every day in the theatre but that are easy to miss in the noise and bustle and rush and worship of productivity at home.
The first day of Technos International week was overwhelming - nearly 14 hours straight of meeting new people, trying to learn a new name and face (and something about the person attached to them) every 5 or 10 minutes, a massive welcoming ceremony fit for opening night at a major sporting event, touring campus, working as hard as I could to learn new words, and doing my best not to fall or get lost on strange ground. It was deafening at times, the cacophony of languages, music, loud rooms, and excitement bringing my brain to a standstill. I longed for the clarity of silence.
In the midst of our second bus ride of the day, while all of the visiting faculty were excitedly talking at full voice, Jina (one of the Technos faculty) reminded us that the bus is usually library silent. I was sitting next to her and she explained that this connects to the Japanese emphasis on ensuring that what they do not disturb others. It brought to mind the African principle of ubuntu: I am because you are. These are the concepts I wish we embraced as Americans and that I try so hard to nourish in my classrooms and creative practices. This is how surrounded by people I often could not understand and in a location where I’d wound up profoundly lost in just a three-block radius the night before, I felt simultaneously at home. A foreigner in an achingly welcome home.
