by Joyce C. Sin
The experience Joyce describes here is such a beautiful, elegant, and moving account of a moment of sudden enlightenment; we are delighted to include it. We think that Hui Neng, the 6th Patriarch, is smiling.
And the day came when the risk it took to remain tightly closed in a bud was more painful that the risk it took to bloom.—Anais Nin
Over the years, I have seen various productions of the marvelous ballet, Swan Lake. The images of delicate swan ballerinas leaping across the stage were deeply imprinted in my mind. So I was not prepared to see Matthew Bourne’s version of Swan Lake at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles, March ’06. All the swans were danced by bare-chested male dancers!
As the curtain went up, I found myself very critical of everything that happened on stage. I did not like the “clumsy” movements of muscular swans, their repetitive formations, and the comic act of the Prince’s girl friend. Why would Mr. Bourne want to spoil Tchaikovsky’s classical work?
Then during intermission, a subtle shift occurred in my consciousness. I re-examined my opinion towards this dance. I lessened my distance from it. I caught myself using a preconceived idea to view the dance. I was seeing “a supposed-to-be” presentation. My judgment was based on what I had known before and what was familiar to me. I was not fully present; I was too much in my head. I was not giving myself the chance to experience something entirely new. I was viewing the performance with intellect alone, not experiencing with my heart as well. I was wasting my time there.
As I re-entered the theater for Act II, I also readjusted my attitude. I would go see the ballet, as if for the first time. I envisioned myself as the principal character, as the Male Swan on stage. I flapped my long wings to show my strength; I pecked and hissed at my fellow swans to gain dominance; I swooped down from the sky to rescue my Prince. I embraced him and let his weary body cling closely to mine. I danced with love, with pain in my soul and loneliness in my flesh. Finally, through liberating death, came the joyous rebirth.
As the curtain came down, I sighed, a heavy relieved, grateful sigh. I was moved beyond words. For the first time in my life, I had experienced a glimpse of what “non-duality” must be like. I felt the unified sense of life. Because I was—through refreshing metamorphosis—the Male Swan in Swan Lake.