Orphans

1.14.06

In a review of Festen, a play adapted from a movie by Denmark's Thomas Vinterberg, being presented in Mexico City, the play's star Diego Luna recalls a comment by the director of Y Tu Mama Tambien (in which he also starred). Alfonso Cuaron said, "The innocence of the parents begins when that of their children ends." In reading this I sat upright, cocked my head, and then slumped slightly. I got it. For when our children pull away from our control and establish themselves in the world, in their ever larger steps, leaps and forays, we relinquish the fantasy that we can save them from pain. We give up the illusion that we ourselves go on forever. We recognize them as distinct beings, not mirrors of our own unrealized dreams. We see in them every moment of our own childhoods, the maps we used to navigate them. We relish that first taste of peppermint ice cream, the view from on top of the jungle gym, the first gold star in kindergarten, the mud pies in the back yard. And then, when our child experiences disappointment, rejection, failure, dis-content, we re-live those moments of our own, feeling that umbilical flow of shared emotions. We hug them, want to take away the blues, offer salvos or step back to let them process their lives with their own tools. And in those moments, are humbled in front of their quests and our own.

Later in the article the play's director, Martin Acosto, opines "in his country, as in much of the world, many traditional father figures have been discredited and dumped and no new figures have risen to take their place. 'we are a generation that is totally orphaned. We dont' have a guide, we don't have a spiritual leader. Suddenly we entered into a series of secrets, half-truths of a social order that is completely perverted by lies."

Not having seen the play or knowing much more than the plot centers on a familiy's revelation of devastating secrets, I think about this comment and look at America and our leader who has deceived us with lies, leading to the deaths of thousands and the destabilization of nations. I look at individual families whose parents hide their loneliness and anomie behind tons of avoirdupois, who battle their demons with substances or mis-directed anger and unaddressed fears and can't take care of their children properly. Michael read to me something about Bush's absolute need to win the game of Risk in college. How far back did that quest for world domination go? What was he needing to control in his family of origin? What pain could he not bear that lead him to alcoholism and utlimately this complete escapism and inability to see the world, receive new information? What lies about his self worth did he believe growing up that he has had to hide amongst the safety of his tunnel visioned cronies, in the face of some simple embarassing truths?

Our social order is perverted by the most major lie that we can find ourselves within the malls and media of our making. Bush's perogative is to protect his interests and those of his oily friends. That he will not admit that is his lie to us. We as a species are obsessed with life and death yet lie to ourselves when we are afronted by images of sex and violence. We lie to our children about Santa Claus, we lie to ourselves about that 4th piece of pizza, we lie to our loved ones about our unconditionality towards them.

And when these lies are revealed, we look for answers in our self-help books, our TV evangelists, our quick fixes, our purchase power and come up empty. Who are the leaders we seek? The spiritual guides? Are they really to be found in government, our temples, our therapists offices? When we feel lost, like orphans, where do we go for that feeling of belonging, of meaning, of mattering in the grand or minor scheme of things? A comment on my evangelical spanish radio station made me think of the Bible as the first selfl-help book. And christianity asks us to look to Jesus for answers.

But doesn't he and any other guide only tap into that which we have in ourselves? Before Jesus and Allah and Buddha and Zeus, there were only the stars and the heavens to ponder, to guide us, then the stick in the sand and the paintings on the cave walls and language and storytelling and wandering and returning. And now, there is art. There is a play in Mexico City in which secrets are revealed. There are audiences who will witness the storytelling and perhaps see their own truths. Will they then go home to their children, both real and internal, and embrace them, parent them with love and acceptance, guide them through the forest of fears or at least provide a flashlight, a torch, a burning ember?