Arthaus: Cataclysm

 Arthaus: Day Twenty - the Finale

Say hi to Paula for me. And Suzanna. And Jos, if he is still there. Oh, you will have so much fun in Paris!

I shudder a lot more now. Goosebumps, when they do come up, fill up the back of my neck and spreads through my shoulders to my arms to my forearms. Little spores, many, so many of them, rooting down my forearm hairs. A comment, a compliment, knowing and really KNOWING, with every fiber of my being. Tendrils of connection reaching out from my skin, connecting with the invisible, the unspoken. How do we make the invisible visible? Perhaps by showing its effects. Chills are formed by the invisible cold. Goosebumps by the invisible aha-moments. A breath, climbing its way, never quite reaching the top, shaking and stuttering it's way up. Hold the space. There is a place for everything - even the unseen.

Today, as it is, the final day, and we shall dive right into it, we explore the ending, an ultimate, the terminal, what is known as the cataclysm. Choose, if you like, one of the following scenarios. You may be crossing a river, and then a wave of epic proportions comes crashing down on you. Or perhaps you find yourself in the forest, when a wildfire spreads and consumes you. You climb a mountain, and a sheer avalanche devours you. An ocean with a riptide. Perhaps you're crossing the desert, and a sandstorm surrounds you. It is a cataclysm. Live it. Be consumed by it. Be the cataclysm.

I knew, well before it began, that I would explore air. Ground and water were my strongest suits, and fire made - well - a fiery addition to my repertoire. I am a Leo, goddammit. Fire is at my beck and call. Air, however, was always difficult. How dizzy it always made me, perhaps a little ditsy too. A spin or two, and my balance goes. Movement without balance? Is that a possibility? Who made the rules.

13 people in the space. 13 masks. Huffing and panting, twisting and turning. Slight confrontation in the air. I spun and I spun, running through the space in between. Wind is out of control, I'm not; Am I too afraid to run into the other people in the space? Faster. I threaded through the mass, brushing by someone - who was that - and ran into Andrew enthusiastically chugging through the space. I re-doubled my efforts, and then knocked into Dilreen. The mask was dropped for a second 'Are you okay?' Then right back into it. Sarah was channeling her anger - fire, but since I was wind, I blew right by. I switched back into the traveller and was swept onto the ground, right next to Alon. My eyes were burning, so were my lungs, and - I felt a sense of protection. I wanted to protect this kid next to me. He curled into a fetal position. What is he dealing with? And then I was wind again, blowing round and round in circles. I became a vertical hurricane, small at the feet, but grandoise at the top. Until I could take it no more, I became the traveller and trudged out.

Sarah and Juan were at each other's throats. They turned, mortified, last ones in the space.

Sometimes we take a scenic detour. Never say no to those! How wonderful! Stay there, both of you. What are the masks trying to say?

They were back at each other, pushing, engaged in a headlock. What is this frustration? Sarah was pushing with all her might, and Juan was receiving it but only barely. He was slipping. They both yelled. Now they let go and were in each other's faces. Chest to chest. Face to face. Mask to mask. In another world, it might have been the precursor to a kiss - the heavy breathing, the foreplay - in this, a quarrel. A lover's spat? Sarah pushed Juan once more.

'It was small blurb on page nineteen, a paragraph for construction workers to laugh about during their lunch break when they share the news. My rapist got off with a sentence of a year in jail.'
- Sarah

I'm so sorry Sarah.

And on we go! When the traveller gets through the cataclysm, what does he see, but the city of his childhood - in flames. The death of childhood, if you will. The metaphors are endless. Live it. What does the traveller do, what does he feel? Up you go, 2 at a time, or 3. I'm not picky.

I run.

Andrew was already in the space when I got up. The 13 catastrophes recently lived in the space, emanating warmth. Patches glowing in the right places. Recent image of a body on the floor. Dust from the sandstorm, chunks from the avalanche, ashes from the fire, and the faint trickling of the receding tide all imprinted on the nether. I reached out my fingers and felt the sandstorm waiting, fluttering. Deep breath. In you go! I stepped into the onslaught. Writhed. The sand seethed through my fingers even as tightly closed as they were, my eyes were shut into a slit, and yet the burn still spread. Where was the end? When did I began? I switched into the sandstorm, and blew and churned, and howled like never before. It lived higher, and further, and up in the distance, I could not see what was below, what I go through. It barely mattered where I stepped. And then back into the traveler. Was that... Singapore?

I stumbled through the remnants of the billowing sand, I could just make out the outline of the city. I had returned. The last of the storm whistled away through my ears, and then a deafening silence. I stopped heaving. My town was on fire. How it danced, taunting me, jeering at the irreversibility of it, the inevitableness of the destruction of my childhood. How I would never return, could never even if I tried. They were moments piled together, moments in time that could never be revisited. I remembered flashes. In an elevator overlooking the business district in Singapore. On a rooftop swimming pool. Hanging out with strangers. Dancing. In flames. Into ashes. I breathed.

So I turned and ran. And kept right on running. Looking back over my shoulders every now and then to...? To assure myself that I was putting distance.

When I was done running, I turned around with my back against the wall and looked out into the crowd. I was devastated. The distance... comforted me. Nothing can hurt me if there's enough space. My childhood has now gone further inwards. There is quite a long way to go from here to childhood, but that was ok. This hurt still exist, but I can face it. I have to face it now.

I took off my mask.

Shared my pain with the audience.

My lips over-pouted. My eyes wide. The terror and the anguish that filled the room eaten alive by my face.

'Get a pair of good shoes, Eugene. You're not stopping anytime soon.'
- Dilreen

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I am lighter now, yet slower. I stretch more. There is more air in me, and I hold more space. Perhaps this way I can finally stop running. When I start holding the space for myself. And other people.

Published on

10/3/19 4:05 PM