Thoughts
On Like an Icarus
Reviving Memory of the Body
A day begins with a distant sound.
My sense of hearing is the first to let me know it is dawn.
I feel fragments of my memory flit through my mind.
In the depth of my sunken body, snippets of my ideas pass through my mind and play out in my dreams. I slowly stretch my back, arms and legs, wondering where I am now.
As I regain my bodily senses, I remember that I am in New York.
I slightly recall a continuity from yesterday and feel relieved that my body is still intact.
I wander around the border between dream and reality.
I hear words that are a mixture of Japanese and English.
At that moment, I feel as if my body has been transported to Japan, most certainly prewar Japan, and to the memory of my childhood. As if I have turned into a white butterfly,
I flutter in the grass field that smells of mud.
〜 from "Like an Icarus"
Around the time I was turning 60 and due to retire as a professional dancer, I suddenly got absorbed in writing. It was similar to that time when I was stunned by the fact that I was turning 50 and could not help but hop on stage right away and dance to Brahms’s waltz. That same year, I suddenly went on a pilgrimage around the ShikokuIsland in Japan, 30 years ahead of my original plan.
Driven by a strong urge to leave a record of my life, I wrote as if I were speaking quickly. So, I wrote glidingly fast without stopping but I found handwriting on paper too slow to catch up to my thoughts. As a dancer, I’ve always wanted to dance to the end without a breather, like a flow of water. So maybe that habit carried over to my writing.
A collection of my writings was first published when I was 70 years old, ten years after I started writing.
Leafing through my book Like an Icarusnow, I see that it covers an expansive range of topics almost too unwieldy. I talk about New York, Tokyo, stage, costumes, music, my body, and so on. It is a record of numerous moments of being awestruck and deeply inspired by my many predecessors.
For instance, I reflect back on the beauty of Mr. Marcel Marceau’s bow as he greeted the audience and Mr. Antony Tudor’s standing position. I discuss human emotional turmoil expressed in Giacometti’s sculptures and Alvin Ailey’s improvisations, as well as the works of Japanese writers Kotaro Takamura and Kenji Miyazawa and the sentiment hidden between the lines.
Although I did not get to mention this in my book, I have also been struck by eminent figures in history such as Buddha, Jesus Christ, as well as some prophets, and Kohboh Daishi (originator of Japanese Buddhist sect Shingon-shu). I obviously never met them, but I responded powerfully to their lessons. Even just a line from books on these figures made fierce impressions. For the most part, I instantaneously sensed the essence of their lessons like a ray of hope had shined on me. In those moments, I would weep bitterly in awe and inspiration.
The lessons I have received, which are like treasures, have been cultivated through my contemplations and activities over the decades, and now I find they have turned into my flesh and blood.
For one thing, I was surprised to see how eloquent I was when I watched a recording of an interview I did before my performance at the opening event of Telepia Hall at Tokai TV Station. I responded to the MC’s questions spontaneously and fluently as if I were dancing, with rich vocabulary and intellect. Just as I had received inspiration for dancing and choreographing from some heavenly existence, I may have been endowed with writing and speaking abilities and propelled by some force to utilize such abilities.
I slightly remember that for a long time, when I was young, I had a hard time deciding which way to go and I would struggle so much to make a decision before taking action. I bitterly recall that time when I was unable to judge good or evil and right or wrong and could barely control the intensity of my desires.
Materializing Vitality
When you fill a vessel with water, right before overflowing, the surface of the water swells and prevents itself from spilling. This is called surface tension. Similarly, our human emotions and physiology have the power to control themselves. In order to grasp the inevitability of our physical and emotional movements, such as the contrast between strong and weak and changes in rhythm and speed, it is important to restrain our energy as well as wait until our emotions overflow the heart.
The various movements human beings exhibit imply we are alive and mobile. The way a human body balances itself is different from the way an unwavering building does.
The same thing can be said for the way you arrange flowers in kado, the Japanese art of flower arrangement. When you express the beauty of something alive, such as human beings and flowers, you should recognize that these living beings are striking a delicate balance and that is what gives depth to the art.
Covering My Eyes
I feel the people holding their breath in silence. The moment the curtain rises, the stage, which attracts the undivided attention of the audience, is filled with such clear and tense atmosphere that I almost feel flurried. Standing in darkness, with my eyes covered by cloth, I realize my skin wants light. My skin detects light gradually covering the stage. The space that suddenly surrounds me confuses me, as if I were left inside a kaleidoscope. I can barely overcome the feeling that my whole body is cowering. Before long, I become conscious of my scruff and spine. Once my spirits soar, I rouse myself to perform. Along with a sudden urge to pounce, the throbbing pain in my body turns into a ripple of movements. My body and movements interact like an echo and expand their strength in double speed. Once that happens, my body is no longer mine. I am exposed to the audience’s energy, which is so abundant that I cannot take it all in. Both my body and heart head straight toward something invisible.
Something like that, and feelings that cannot be expressed in words, I surmise, are passed on to the audience by reverberating across the theater through the atmosphere and expanding. Our senses cultivated by our individual work and personal experiences sympathize with the energy of the many people who gather in the theater. Once ignited, they are sublimed to the universal essence unfathomable to us. Ultimately, they seem to instantly create some value that is exchanged with divine power in a place called “heaven” or “empty air” in religious terms. The same phenomenon could happen when you watch a performance or read a book. You can recognize and appreciate that yourself through the actions of watching or reading.
Keeping a Balance in an Unbalanced Circumstance
Physical art performance is of one-time-only nature, soaring through time and space and vanishing instantaneously. Just like in music, with dance, a performer’s action resonates with people’s senses through air, passes through their bodies and leaves nothing material.
Performers are urgently required to bring to the performance their deep imaginations and rich creative techniques born from within. Amazingly enough, each phase in this creative process happens only once, without exception. A successful performance is a true mark of a dancer’s sublime spirit lying within.
There are some unforgettable performances of mine. I have also seen performances that are forever engraved in my memory. I wonder if there is anything else in this world that brings such pleasure filled with a sense of fruitfulness. I am pleased to recognize that beauty and proof of living lies in a place where things are not judged based on whether they aregood or evil or right or wrong.
18
The Real Thrill
That genuine pleasure of saying good night, hopping into bed and realizing that it is okay to just go to sleep. I also like the drowsiness that falls upon me on a warm spring day. Even better is when I keep dozing off on an early afternoon in the summer. How comfortable it is to be overcome by drowsiness! It is surely as good as heaven on earth.
Yet, the only time I was able to experience such pleasure was when I was young and busy and pressed for time. Nowadays, I just carelessly fall asleep without even realizing. What a waste! I can no longer experience that intense pleasure of falling into the arms of Morpheus.
Advanced in age, I am getting less agile in my movements now at the age of 85.
Now I am liberated from every role I have had to play in the society—choreographer, director, dancer, wife, mother and child. This sense of freedom is extraordinary and I feel like I have returned to those tranquil days of my early childhood. Although I think I have lived my life quite freely, I marvel at the realization that I am now reliving that exact freedom I felt as a child. Nowadays, I have been able to figure out what I was unable to in my 70s. For the first time in my life, I have the time to read leisurely, think freely, and fully concentrate on examining my past (about dancing, love, married couples, human beings) as well as contemplating how to live my elderly life.
Now that I am older than the age my mother and grandmother passed away, I often remember my early childhood.
My grandmother lived at a time when the society was strongly feudal. She also lived through chaos after Japan lost the war and the country was most lacking in terms of housing, food and clothing, and medical services. She never complained nor made excuses even in those circumstances. She passed away after providing an example with her own actions.
She directed consciousness toward her inner self and exercised strict self-control, which is a strong indication of Oriental ethics, and is still deeply impressed in my mind.
I have lived my life, believing that if I could restrain and control myself, I would be able to liberate myself gradually. Has my grandmother’s way of life been an implicit guidepost for me? Yet, I still wonder if I can emulate my grandmother.
Outliving My Grandmother and My Mother
My body and mind were gifted from my parents and nurtured with love and affection. When I learned that miraculous power comes into play, I was determined to walk in the direction I aspire to, one step at a time, in search of a beautiful way of life. I feel flustered because now I have come to a point where I need to examine how I have been able to leverage aptitude received from my parents, including both my strengths and weaknesses, and whether I was able to improve on them.
I believe everyone has the freedom to make choices and develop himself/herself as he/she likes.
I am filled with gratitude for the benefits left to us by our countless predecessors..
And Now
How do I want to be?
For more than 80 years,
I have constantly thought about this while moving my body and taking action.
With my body wanting to feel the fear of flying to a place of no return,
I have kept on dancing.
Now I am wondering how I should approach “the moon’s path,”
which is getting closer and closer to me.
Should I run, waver, or dance?
I always think. I wonder what sort of sound I would hear on my way to the end of my life.
Would I also hear that wind that was blowing in Israel?
Every night, when I fall asleep, I always trace my slight sense of hearing,
which is always the last to shut down.
Translated by Nanami Araki
