My friend Ryuzo Fukuhara told me what happened when he tried to make his students articulate their feedback after viewing someone's dance. "I liked this dance." "why did you like it?" "Her arms were ..." "What about the arms?" etc, etc. As he pursued the question, the student who was giving a feedback started crying. He explained that it was because something she had at the core resonated with the dance she was watching. She was just not realizing that until she was pursued to articulate her instinctive response. I was experiencing something similar to this episode. The play I'm working on now, "Kaspar" is about the possible reversal power relationship between language and thoughts. It is about the phenomenon of idiomized use of language. It is about the loss of subjective language and subjective reality. It is, really about human rights and freedom. I was starting to remember how my process of English language acquisition went in the past twenty years. In the initial stage of acquisition, I tried to speak like Americans because I wanted to reach that freedom which seemed to be there if I could only speak the language. As I acquired the language further and further, I felt more and more powerful. It was shocking how it works. All of a sudden, you rise from the inferior to the superior because you can speak the language. You become someone from noone. Pretty soon, language starts walking by itself.
There seemed to be a transition in my acquisition about the time I started exploring the body. I noticed that the accent I tried to lose so hard was revisiting me. And I was actually enjoying my accent. I was now speaking English from a Japanese person's point of view. I'm not sure if it was a survival instinct. Or perhaps it was the embodiment of my further inquiry about freedom. At the same time, I was increasingly interested in 'non-speaking body' vs. 'speaking body'.
When we lose the subjective language, we lose ourselves. We lose our subjective reality. But where does the subjective reality start? How much is our world colored by other people's thoughts? A Japanese body-worker I acquainted with said something intriguing about this. "What is thinking? Thinking is to apply yourself to someone else's thoughts." Ultimately, the question is, where are 'you'? And it has to go back to the body, the most immediate, where we hope we are, where we hope we feel our subjective reality.