In March, I arrived in Nevada City, CA, to act in a play called Chinglish, written by playwright David Henry Hwang, produced by Community Asian Theatre of the Sierra (CATS). It was the first time that I acted in a play and my memory rewound to the year of 2011, which ended with a small act of kindness from a stranger.

In 2011, several days before the New Year, I rewarded myself a trip to New York City. I had just done my 20 minutes long solo performance based on my personal story at Monday Night Marsh in San Francisco. At a hostel in Brooklyn, I wandered online and discovered a free meditation event on Tuesdays near the Lincoln Center. Despite the fact that I’d never meditated before then and it was raining and getting dark and I was hungry, I found myself sitting in a circle with strangers. When the meditation was over, it was still raining. A man from the group offered me a ride to the Metro station. His driver was waiting for him in a full-size black car outside the building. After hearing my performing journey in the car, he said he could introduce me to his friend, Playwright David Henry Hwang, whose new play Chinglish was just out on Broadway. We exchanged cards. At the Metro station, he got out in the rain and walked to my side to open the door for me. After we said good-bye, I looked down at his card in my hand: Eric Schneiderman, Attorney General of the State of New York. Though I didn't get introduced to David Henry Hwang, acting in this play of his gave me a sense of completion of that day in New York City.

A fellow actor and I stayed in the Artistic Director's sister-in-law's log home in the woods. The second night there, I was alone. Instead of sleeping inside, I set up the tent, lay under the million bright stars, and listened to gentle wild sounds. It was a little chilly in my thin sleeping bag. In my half-awake sleep, I reflected why I was there. I felt pulled in two directions. One was to further delve into self-expression and self-discovery through acting and performing; the other was to learn and to grow in a community that fosters spiritual ecological awakening and deep service. How much I long to pulse along with the Mystery!

What I learned during that period are: acting with a cast, solitude, and community.

Act 1 Scene 3 in Chinglish (CATS, 2016)

Using acting as a channel to invite inherent human nature to come out for a full run, and to practice being present. I had two roles in the play, one was a Chinese Interpreter Qian, the other Prosecutor Li. Though neither characters demanded exploration of full human emotions, as Interpreter Qian, I enjoyed playing with interpreting not only words, but the emotions of others, in addition to the character's own personality. Parts in me that were dormant would reveal themselves at unexpected times.

Each show was different. The audience, the energy, and the mood changed every time. No one knew what would turn wrong or go right before or during each show. At times, I noticed myself just uttering the words without being fully present on the stage; at other times, I could look into the darkness and feel the space, and time slowed down and space expanded. The audience, the actors, and the space were co-creating something live.

Though at times I felt alone by distancing myself from wining and dining for pleasure without caring much about the food sources, I found comfort in solitude. I found great pleasure in long walks, instead of driving, from the woods to the theatre in downtown Nevada City, and around the canal nearby. During my first two hours long walk to the theatre, I enjoyed thoroughly the exhilarating freedom without relying on a car. The only thing that mattered was to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Though I questioned myself several times if I was on the right road since it kept unfolding endlessly... Alas! I arrived at last!

What also helped me ground myself were the reading of The One-Straw Revolution, recap of Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom, and listening to the intriguing interviews on On Being by Krista Tippett.

Every one’s selfless contribution to this production of Chinglish truly won my heart. The Artistic Director Lisa Moon and the Executive Director Jeannie Wood, along with numerous volunteers, worked tirelessly to bring a taste of Asian culture to a population consisting of 1% Asians; the female lead Kathy Hsieh embraced each of us warmly each time before we went on the stage. The cast and crew mingled at casual dinner parties, sharing food and laughter. What moved me the most was that so many worked enthusiastically and selflessly behind the scene to make the production possible.

Breaking down the set on the final day (CATS, 2016)

I couldn’t have thought that the most memorable fun would be the last day when everyone joined to dismantle the set together, the cast, the crew, and the CATS members and friends, no more distinctions between roles. Three actresses all grabbed power tools to unscrew nails. Most of the set materials were put in different piles to be reused and shared with other theatres. Though we did two shows on our last day, we were in such a high spirit that we worked until 2 in the morning.

The enlivened kindred spirit of CATS community led me to reexamining my hesitant acceptance of my own little role in contributing to the larger whole. In the past, I found it hard to truly accept that I am not special. It greatly humbled me after watching many working diligently behind the scene for Chinglish. There was no distinction between small and big roles, all important, no one dispensable. I happened to come across this poem yesterday:

Love by Czeslaw Milosz
Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills.
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.

Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
It doesn't matter whether he knows what he serves:
Who serves best doesn't always understand.

CATS produces one play a year for the community. Chinglish is their 22nd show in Nevada City. Every year, the process of planning, casting, promoting, building the set, rehearsing, performing, and breaking down the set repeats. As years go by, the community grows larger and stronger. It reminded me of what Martin Prechtel said in an Interview: "We all want to make something that’s going to live beyond us, but that thing shouldn’t be a house, or some other physical object. It should be a village that can continue to maintain itself. That sort of constant renewal is the only permanence we should wish to attain."

We are a family (CATS, 2016)

Thanks to Community Asian Theatre of the Sierra (CATS), Nevada City, CA 2016