Blue is my favorite color -
and I rarely try to properly verbalize such undying visual devotion to its many
shades; I can only let myself be eternally drawn to it like a Swan to a blue
flame. There’s just something about blue that exudes a sense of transmutation unlike other tones (excepting gray & black, the other two sisters that make up the family of my wardrobe palette) among things like elements, eyes, and music to
name a few forms. It works on so many sensory levels and can reach me near the
deepest of depths.
Today, our film crew for Gehenna traveled to the island of
Tinian, a smaller neighbor of Saipan, in order to shoot a transitory scene
filled with Chamorran lore, latte stones from the days of King Taga and
snare-vine terrain. Tinian is also rich in war history, playing a pivotal role
in the terror and defeat of Japan. Once taken by the Americans, Tinian was
transformed into the world’s largest air base and indeed, was the loading /
launching ground for Little Boy onto the Enola Gay, leading us to red, white,
and blue victory.
My cast-mates and I were
given an option to travel by small commuter plane (a ten minute excursion) or
by boat (about 1250% longer). I chose the boat. I knew the water would be
healing in some way and damn, was I absolutely correct. It wasn’t until 2014
that I remained no longer a virgin to sailing – and to surfing, for that
matter. My relationship to the ocean has been virtually non-existent despite
living in Los Angeles for nearly five years. What can I say? We foolishly stay away
from such beauty at times only because we are not conscious of the ways it can
change us. And how can we become conscious unless we go and do and see and
learn? As my director and friend, Hiroshi Katagiri, was saying to me yesterday - we cannot
do what we do not know; the simplicity of this message being as full as its truth. By not acquiring more knowledge, we will remain where
we are instead of progressing forward and expanding ourselves.
But there I am on the
Nombei, a smallish vessel with Captain Don at the helm, various crew / cast /
equipment in tow, and an invisible rope from my soul to the vast layers of
blue. The twine was already loosely in place, quite thickly so, and the tension
was only to strengthen as we pulled away from our port at 7am from Saipan.
I do not think you, dear
Reader, are quite aware of the natural phenomenons that occur around this island
life, both breathtakingly astounding and absolutely common among the natives
and their smack-dab Pacific position. For example, one can see
rain coming from mere minutes away – these (mostly) harmless, wandering showers
traverse oft like cloud bandits alongside maritime tracks. Did you ever imagine such things happening at
all times of the day when you live a mainland life? Maybe you had a clue if
you’ve been to the Rain Room at LACMA.
Regardless, it was a slow,
spiritual burn for me on this trip to Tinian – beginning with an internal
warning that Dramamine seemed not strong enough to dispel as my insides turned
a tad here, there. Then, a light rain hit us as the sweet sun
simultaneously met with the water, brightening the world and breaking the moody
gray skyscape. Humidity be damned because
my curly noggin loves a greeting rain. It was as sweet as sugar pie made by my
Granny Iona back in the days of Kentucky. Plus - I was armored with a headscarf
and hat and sunglasses AND sunblock soooooo…needless to say I was rather prepared. In the not-too-far distance, there laid a
handful of barges – massive,
vaulted hunks of metal transporting god-knows-what and helmed by an assembly of
(probably) men that harken back to the days of Anna Christie. I prefer to think
of them all as Liam Neeson types, their stances more grounded than an ancient
Mole god, deeply equipped with a physical earthiness and seamlessly dancing with
the tempestuous ocean. I, myself, tried to adopt this sensibility as I moved forward
to the bow, where I would remain for the next 90 minutes of the trip. Thank
you, Yoga, and other balancing exercises for my liquidity of joints and
flexibility of energetic motion. Once I found myself so near to the water – one
could neither pry me away with a crowbar nor tempt me with a jar of peanut butter-filled
pretzels. I was hooked as if the sea were fishing me.
Thus I see why blue moves me
so. Always, the sky and the sea are connected, almost blurred and mistaken for
one another, a pair of conjoined twins – one air, one marine; both blue, both
vast, both immersive, both rife with mystery; both garnished with white froth
that ever evolves and disappears; both caught in a mystically-designed
elemental thought cycle, that twin mentality where one knows the other through
and through; telepathically tied.
Eventually I sat, cradled in
the life-raft ring on the bow, feet dangling, hat shading, and body rocking
like a child to the impassioned sway and churning shush-break of the waves. The
intensity of silent words hanged about us all as we sat or stood, contemplative
and still, now floating fixtures and attendants to the universe; our thoughts
holding tightly to the corners of our minds. When my lids were not shut, I
glanced above to see diaphanous wisps of cloud, threads in freehand stripes
that mirrored the mellifluous smile resting upon my lips. Suddenly to my right, a rainbow appeared,
complete in the water from end to end. I do not know if I have ever seen one in
its entirety and indeed, I wondered if it continued underwater in a full spectrum circle, perhaps as a portal to a parallel world. Maybe a version of me is on the other
side - one that is closer to my dreams. Ha! I do not know if I could be
closer to my dreams than this – so I am instantly reminded.
Peace. This is truly what
peace is. White Fairy Terns diving and
weaving above the surface – they are like doves with sprigs and I am like Noah,
ready to start again; a rebirth. The New Year approaches and I am ready to shed
skins of all sorts; slyly, obviously, passionately – in all ways that fit all
circumstances, but mainly that just fit me and serve me. The ocean, the sky, my
dreams, and my loved ones – all tell me that I am on the verge of something
new, and I feel it through to the marrow.
Those that I love and are
not with me – please know that you ARE with me, carved deeply into my heart and
held steady by the glowing life-energy of these magical places.
Once we finished filming at
Tinian, we rode back upon the Nombei once again, some newcomers aboard. The resonance
of such an experience marked me indelibly and exhaustingly, for I think my soul
has not undergone such a laundering in quite awhile. Spirits were higher than
Bill and Ted on an excellent adventure.
With a can of cheap, celebratory beer in each hand, our cast and crew
all distantly witnessed an incredible block of cloudy gray dominating the sky –
and in Mad Max-like fashion, storms churned, blazed and poured just miles away while we safely gazed on. The elements, the elements. Being so free in the
elements is an unmatched thing and I am wildly in love with the world at this
time.
Back to Saipan - my
fugacious, tropical reality. I have the day off this Friday. I will need it to
recover from this painful hug of the universe. We all will.