Out of these Woods do not Desire

The following is a true report of the happenings of 24th June 2010 in Central Park, Rochester, Minnesota, in my interactions with various personages of the Words Players, a very young but accomplished group of players who make it their business to put on the works of William Shakespeare and other excellent productions.

During the intermission, I decided to go exploring to see if I could find any of those very lovely flowers that Honeysuckle (a small scampering fairy) and her kind were showering the audience with. I didn’t find any, but it occurred to me to put my pipe in my mouth and go wandering. First I offered some pizza to a wandering player, and Oberon himself wrinkled his nose at my offer of pizza. Then I spied Queen Titania and Bottom on a picnic blanket, attended by a couple of young fairies. I sat down with my pizza on the blanket.

“Is that one of your fairies?” asked Bottom, rolling his very well-endowed ears.
“No, she has pizza,” said Titania.
“Puck makes pizza,” said a fairy.
“Puck doesn’t make pizza, he just takes it,” said Titania wisely.

Full theatre review at the Harvard Ichthus

Desdemona’s Fatal Flaw

It occurs to me, after posting the previous post, that Desdemona’s fatal flaw is not entirely of her own making. She does not want to be a “moth of peace” while Othello strides out over the world as a military general. She wants to be a comrade in arms. But everything about the society she lives in does not allow her to do that – her father’s disapproval, her race, her beautiful appearance, and of course, Iago, who paints her as a “supersubtle Venetian”, of no use to anyone except to turn a trick or two. Her problem is she settles for it, (and also, perhaps she is too young to handle all this – Othello after all is pretty much older than she is, able to converse with her father) and Othello is too blind, too willing to believe in a bad thing than something too good to be true.

Usually when something is too good to be true, it usually is.

The Tree

My mother draws me with the Currier Tree, that will die this summer.

O brave new world that has such people in’it! – Miranda
‘Tis new to thee – Prospero

the gardener

by Judith Huang

nothing comes from nothing – King Lear, to Cordelia
nothing comes from nothing – Maria, the Sound of Music

and o in the darkness
i walked out
in fear but love
threw out my fear
for though you died i wanted to
make love to those
your watery wounds
o how i longed to tend and balm
the horrors that
had pierced your palm -
and i brought all my sweet perfume
and i brought my gentle breathless hair
and i thought all the lovely things
about you that i could drag out
of the deep hollow
of my soul
for knowledge was the grief i knew
and o, and o, i did not know
what to say to that big O
the gaping hole in that great rock
and grief swallowed me like a hole
o it consumed me it consumed me
i was left with only
O

O
there was this man standing there
he wiped my tears, he touched my hair
“Maria”
he said, and I saw
Adam waking up to Eve -
“Maria, Maria”
don’t weep for me – O,
weep for the whole world for me -
for how else does your garden grow?
“Maria, Maria!”
don’t weep for me
don’t cling to me
don’t cleave to me – O,
“Maria! Maria!”
the world cries out
for your great love
my little dove – O
“MARIA, MARIA!”
and I did go -
He took my name
and now He and I
and all the world -
are All the Same.