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Monday Morning Musings:
Henry: “If you look across the desert, the earth takes on the appearance of the sea. You think you’re standing upon a rock that rises from solid ground only to discover that you’re standing on an island in the middle of the ocean. And you don’t know if you’re looking back into the past or into the future. Water covered this earth and water will cover it again and the days that man walked here will prove just a moment in time.”
–Andrew Bovell, When the Rain Stops Falling
The here and now,
the future
from the past
all intertwined.
Back and forth,
each moment lost
before it registers.
This moment,
here, now
is already gone.
The play begins with rain falling on the stage,
a fish falls from the sky
and a man picks it up.
It will be his lunch,
lunch with the son he has not seen in many years.
The man had heard rumors that fish still existed
not totally extinct,
but still,
fish do not normally drop from the sky
Then again,
life is full of unusual moments
and strange coincidences.
Patterns are repeated
throughout nature,
fractals, the Fibonacci numbers, golden spirals,
tessellations, waves, and ripples,
ripples through,
ripples of time
carrying patterns
the shape, the color of an eye
You look just like your grandfather,
your mother, your sister—
Behaviors,
fathers leaving sons
And so might words also be repeated,
particular phrases also carry through time?
In the play,
they eat fish soup
in different times and places.
I think of the fish soup
I made for my husband, for me.
Mine, unlike the one in the play,
was made without heads,
but with plenty of vegetables.
More of a stew, actually,
but still.
It was a few weeks ago,
do you remember?
It was delicious,
and we ate it for a couple of days,
enjoying each spoonful
till it was gone,
in the past,
a memory.
Yet there is a photograph,
posted on social media sites–
the moment frozen in time
lasting through eternity.
Fish Stew
I have a dream.
In it
my mother is younger
her hair still dark brown,
and she is going to work.
She leaves through a front door,
and my cat,
a cat who is my constant companion now,
in the here and now,
goes out the door, too.
I panic,
but he does not run away.
I scoop him back into the house,
where I play the piano,
haltingly.
I tell my sister,
or is it one of my daughters,
(the generations mix and blur)
it’s the theme song I remember,
but it is a Bach minuet.
I can’t actually remember when my mother was a young girl.
I wasn’t born.
Does she remember it,
youth, I mean?
I see her in a photograph–
that moment frozen.
That moment then
what was
is here now for me to see.
But as I look, my thoughts move on
to the future,
even as I regard the past.
My parents. I have no idea where they were or what they were celebrating.
When we watch a play,
or a movie,
when we read a book,
we are there,
while being here.
Is this a paradox of human existence?
The here and now,
the past, present, future
time and place co-existing in our minds?
And in the play
it is raining,
raining for days,
weeks perhaps,
and sometimes it seems,
it seems as though the rain will never stop falling.
But it does,
and we walk out of the theater
and the clouds are gone.
The sun is shining
splendid, glowing
as it has through the past
and will continue to do
for some time, I hope.
The future,
when I am no longer here.
But now,
here and now,
it is shining brightly
illuminating the darkness,
chasing the shadows away.
Post theater consideration of the menu at Tria.
We saw When the Rain Stops Falling by Andrew Bovell
At the Wilma Theatre in Philadelphia. I enjoyed it very much, an intriguing play with characters from periods of time between 1959 and 2039, in London and Australia, sometimes on the stage at the same time. The all share a connection.
There is relationship between the family saga and the Anthropocene. It’s possible that I said to my husband, “I love plays that come with further reading.” And that he laughed and said, “I know you do.” There is an interview with the playwright on the Wilma Theater’s web site.
