Reasoning in the Unreasonable world:
Rituals of Life and Death in The Eternal Tides
Rituals of Life and Death in The Eternal Tides
words by Angela Ko
Imagine yourself watching the waves while walking along the seashore. Let the swishing sound fill your ears, let the salty wind suffuse your lungs, and let the azure sea consume your sight with nothing but continuing tides. As you point at the target of your sight, it has already changed into another; but if you say the ocean does transform, how does it differ from its previous state, or even thousands of years ago? The Eternal Tides(《潮》), performed by Legend Lin Dance Theatre (無垢舞蹈劇場), presents the intrinsic essence of human life as an ever-changing yet everlasting circle of life and death.
Before the audience notices, the performance starts abruptly with two drummers carrying a candle each and walking in the foreground down the stage respectively. It takes nearly ten minutes for the two, who dress in aboriginal traditional clothes, to walk the three-yard-distance and settle before the huge drums on the opposite sides of the stage. The light dims and fades out slowly in synchronization with the drummers. The white sheets, initially covering the stage, slowly wash away like sea foam, and uncover the child in the tides who curls like a baby in its mother’s womb. Sitting crossed-legged and eventually standing, the dancer whirls long hair in circles around and around for about thirty minutes, torturing body as if offering a sacred sacrifice to Mother Nature. With the drums resonating in the background, the dancer, motivated by unknown forces, continues the bizarre movement. The long, black hair, tied into a bunch, wrinkles the white sheets by whipping violently on the stage; in contrast to the powerful motion, the slim, pale and naked body indicates the fragility of a newborn. Nonetheless, the dancers seek no protection from this brutal ritual and continue on and on until a wild scream strikes the audience with the paradoxical combination of fear and sanctity.
Sparks, fire and smoke, all that signify purity in primitive religions, rise from the stage like another approaching tide. Three dancers, each with a bunch of dried stalks of wheat in hands, slowly move from the left stage to the center, and three other dancers mirror them from the other side. All the dancers on stage are perfectly synchronized in their moves, shifting horizontally so slowly that the audience hardly notices. Yet they keep on going, for the tides stop for no man. At the center of the altar, a couple unites before the eyes of the gods and humans. In silence, they sing a song that humans have been singing since time immemorial, and they depart to the opposite sides like an asymptote that draws near, and rendezvous only to part again. As if dismissing the temporary wrinkles on the water’s surface, the ocean soon recovers its stainless sphere as the dancers leave the stage.
Two groups of men confront one another, with their arms stretched, back tightened, eyes wide-opened, and bodies full of aggression. With burning straws in their hands, they swing their weapons violently at their rivals. One after another, the men howl in pain and leave the stage until there is only one man left to confront his three enemies. The three men form a line and force the “one man army” to back off until he is at the edge of the stage and about to fall. The man’s shouts turn into desperate cries, and he screams in despair when his enemies humiliate him with a dishonorable failure. The stage falls silent, and sole remaining sound is the man’s agonizing cries and pants. He is on the verge of bursting into painful screams once again. His rivals, seemingly stunned by their own deeds, slowly back away in shame and disbelief, leaving the wounded man gulping his own tears while dragging himself downstage. Still, there is no answer to the tragic scene; and still, humans fight against each other as if performing ancient rituals without questioning the reasons behind their deeds.
Some say that death is the end of all miseries, but what if what follows death is merely the start of a new form of life? On one hand, eternal life might sound hopeful; on the other hand, eternal life also suggests that there is no true end to suffering. The established ritualistic teams of dancers once again move slowly from the two sides of the stage to the center with a bunch of straws in hand. The dancers' slow motions accompany a few streams of smoke from the candles at the downstage center. Like shape-shifting creatures, they morph elegantly into various shapes and transform gracefully into different poses. As three pairs of men and women line up symmetrically, a noble-like woman walks on the beige carpet from the upstage center, places a black stone on the way for every few steps, to form an ellipsis. The performers in the back start to make low humming sounds, which the audience hardly notice initially, and then the sounds intensify. The reciting sound of the Heart Sutra (《心經》), a Buddist script well known in Buddhist countries such as Taiwan, emerges from the dark again and again. In the script, it is said that “when practicing deeply the Prajna Paramita/ perceives that all five skandhas are empty/ and is saved from all suffering and distress” (translated by Kuan Um School of Zen). The performance comes to an end while reciting the Heart Sutra, suggesting that one can never escape the eternal tides without practicing the Prajna Paramita; that is, one will forever suffer from pain, sorrow, and even happiness without transcending human nature.
During the two-hour-performance of The Eternal Tides, the plot, language and rationality are intentionally unraveled and resolved, leaving the world in a paradoxical state that is both chaotic and ordered. Yet, the performance explicitly reflects the nature of the world. Before the new tides arrive at the shore, the old tides must be killed, only to lead to another sacrifice. Humans will keep moving on regardless of any unreasonable occurrences, and they will always seek order in a forever ridiculous world.
Before the audience notices, the performance starts abruptly with two drummers carrying a candle each and walking in the foreground down the stage respectively. It takes nearly ten minutes for the two, who dress in aboriginal traditional clothes, to walk the three-yard-distance and settle before the huge drums on the opposite sides of the stage. The light dims and fades out slowly in synchronization with the drummers. The white sheets, initially covering the stage, slowly wash away like sea foam, and uncover the child in the tides who curls like a baby in its mother’s womb. Sitting crossed-legged and eventually standing, the dancer whirls long hair in circles around and around for about thirty minutes, torturing body as if offering a sacred sacrifice to Mother Nature. With the drums resonating in the background, the dancer, motivated by unknown forces, continues the bizarre movement. The long, black hair, tied into a bunch, wrinkles the white sheets by whipping violently on the stage; in contrast to the powerful motion, the slim, pale and naked body indicates the fragility of a newborn. Nonetheless, the dancers seek no protection from this brutal ritual and continue on and on until a wild scream strikes the audience with the paradoxical combination of fear and sanctity.
Sparks, fire and smoke, all that signify purity in primitive religions, rise from the stage like another approaching tide. Three dancers, each with a bunch of dried stalks of wheat in hands, slowly move from the left stage to the center, and three other dancers mirror them from the other side. All the dancers on stage are perfectly synchronized in their moves, shifting horizontally so slowly that the audience hardly notices. Yet they keep on going, for the tides stop for no man. At the center of the altar, a couple unites before the eyes of the gods and humans. In silence, they sing a song that humans have been singing since time immemorial, and they depart to the opposite sides like an asymptote that draws near, and rendezvous only to part again. As if dismissing the temporary wrinkles on the water’s surface, the ocean soon recovers its stainless sphere as the dancers leave the stage.
Two groups of men confront one another, with their arms stretched, back tightened, eyes wide-opened, and bodies full of aggression. With burning straws in their hands, they swing their weapons violently at their rivals. One after another, the men howl in pain and leave the stage until there is only one man left to confront his three enemies. The three men form a line and force the “one man army” to back off until he is at the edge of the stage and about to fall. The man’s shouts turn into desperate cries, and he screams in despair when his enemies humiliate him with a dishonorable failure. The stage falls silent, and sole remaining sound is the man’s agonizing cries and pants. He is on the verge of bursting into painful screams once again. His rivals, seemingly stunned by their own deeds, slowly back away in shame and disbelief, leaving the wounded man gulping his own tears while dragging himself downstage. Still, there is no answer to the tragic scene; and still, humans fight against each other as if performing ancient rituals without questioning the reasons behind their deeds.
Some say that death is the end of all miseries, but what if what follows death is merely the start of a new form of life? On one hand, eternal life might sound hopeful; on the other hand, eternal life also suggests that there is no true end to suffering. The established ritualistic teams of dancers once again move slowly from the two sides of the stage to the center with a bunch of straws in hand. The dancers' slow motions accompany a few streams of smoke from the candles at the downstage center. Like shape-shifting creatures, they morph elegantly into various shapes and transform gracefully into different poses. As three pairs of men and women line up symmetrically, a noble-like woman walks on the beige carpet from the upstage center, places a black stone on the way for every few steps, to form an ellipsis. The performers in the back start to make low humming sounds, which the audience hardly notice initially, and then the sounds intensify. The reciting sound of the Heart Sutra (《心經》), a Buddist script well known in Buddhist countries such as Taiwan, emerges from the dark again and again. In the script, it is said that “when practicing deeply the Prajna Paramita/ perceives that all five skandhas are empty/ and is saved from all suffering and distress” (translated by Kuan Um School of Zen). The performance comes to an end while reciting the Heart Sutra, suggesting that one can never escape the eternal tides without practicing the Prajna Paramita; that is, one will forever suffer from pain, sorrow, and even happiness without transcending human nature.
During the two-hour-performance of The Eternal Tides, the plot, language and rationality are intentionally unraveled and resolved, leaving the world in a paradoxical state that is both chaotic and ordered. Yet, the performance explicitly reflects the nature of the world. Before the new tides arrive at the shore, the old tides must be killed, only to lead to another sacrifice. Humans will keep moving on regardless of any unreasonable occurrences, and they will always seek order in a forever ridiculous world.