Electric & Acoustic Cellist, Vocalist and Composer
CURRENT PROJECTS
Asian Elephant Project | Poetry Concerts and Workshops | Being with Dying Workshops
THE ASIAN ELEPHANT PROJECT
"Once you understand that an animal is intelligent, it's not illogical to suspect that it might be creative."--Sacred Elephant, Heathcote William
"He who knows not, and knows not he knows not, is a fool...shun him. He who knows not, and knows he knows not, is a child...teach him. He who knows, and knows not he knows, is asleep...wake him. He who knows, and knows he knows, is wise...follow him."--Persian proverb
"The elephant knows."--Jami Sieber
How do I begin to write about the last few weeks with the elephants? I have had such a range of emotions within myself as I have returned to the Thai Elephant Center outside of Lampang, Thailand. I have come with open eyes and the desire to bear witness to the elephants' greatness, and their lives at the Center alongside the mahouts who work with them.
Of course this has been a mixture of incredible joy and sadness. As everyone who I have spoken with at the Center knows, the elephants should not be in captivity. They should be free. Just knowing this, and watching the elephants handle the confined spaces given to them, has brought me into such grief and questioning about this whole project.
As you can imagine, this awareness, has thrown me for a loop. But, I have kept going, through my grief and anger, driven by the knowing that these elephants have in a way called me back. I approach them with respect and humility. We are together meeting. It has felt like a homecoming to feel their skin, their tiny coarse hairs and their ears, and to look into their eyes. Their trunks reach out in acceptance, knowing I am here for them. I have sat with them, rode them, played with them, fed them and walked beside them as much as possible.
My partner, Agu, and I did a 3-day Homestay Program at the Center. Its purpose is to bring you closer to the elephant, teach you a few commands, and give you a chance to make a fool of yourself as you try getting up on the elephant. My elephant's name is Tantaone, the name of a flower. She is 42 years old and the mother of Luuk Khang.
Mostly, it was physical torture for us trying to get up on the elephant in the ways they were teaching. Our elephants were huge; even the mahouts commented on their size. Tantaone was beyond patient as she lifted her right foot for me to use as a step up: "Song soong" is the command and I tugged on her ear and attempted to throw my awkward mass of flesh up and over. It was all very humbling. Agu looked relatively graceful as she mounted and descended; I felt as though I was failing the course already. Shortly after our first few attempts, we asked if we could just spend time with the elephants rather than pretending that we were going to become mahouts before returning to Berkeley.
Tantaone's mahout is Puen. He loves to sing on his way to and from the forest. Spending time with the mahout and elephant together is deepening my understanding of the relationship of humans and elephants that has spanned hundreds of thousands of years. There is an amazing closeness and trust between them.
We awoke at dawn to meet up with the mahouts and then bring the elephants in from the forest for their workday. The jungle held a quiet magic at this time of day. The mist hung low, and the gorgeous silhouettes of distant elephants called us forward. We greeted them each morning with sugar cane. It is said that they befriend whoever brings them their first piece of cane in the morning. I guess they are like humans in that way.
One afternoon, Agu and I walked to the forest alone because we had missed the rendezvous with the mahouts. The threat of rain had been in the air all day, but everyone said, "It never rains during the dry season." Our desire was to just sit with the elephants in the forest and observe their behavior. When we arrived, we didn't find our elephants but instead, came across two bull elephants. We had been told to never approach an elephant unless the mahout was around, as the elephant can be unpredictable. Since we were strangers to them, we kept our distance. I found a place to sit and just be with them. One male swung his trunk in constant motion as he foraged for food. He stopped moving once he realized that I was there watching. He stood in complete stillness while I let him know that I was there in peace. Then, he continued with his eating and kept watch of my whereabouts.
A heavy wind began to blow the trees quite violently. I decided to move, and went down the road closer to the other male elephant who was being quite vocal at this point. He sensed the approaching storm, I assumed, along with this strange new human. His noises weren’t distress calls; just short "chirps" as Richard Lair calls them. I sat in front of him and could hear low rumbling--almost a purring sound. He looked right at me and kept up with his intermittent purr. Then the rains started, and there was more trumpeting between the two males. I ran to meet up with Agu, and by the time I reached her, hail was falling. (Most of the people we spoke to after the storm said this was their first hailstorm.) It was incredible! Huge ice balls were bouncing off the dirt path and making waves in the river; and the elephants were trumpeting in surprise. It was glorious! We barely fit under a small sign that had an overhang, and from there we watched it all unfold. I loved the wildness that I felt, the smell of rain and elephant thick in the air.
After the storm passed and we were walking back to our home, we sang:
Goin' up on the mountain, I ain't comin down till the morning
Goin' up on the mountain, I ain't comin down in chains
Goin' up to set my soul free, I ain't coming down till the morning
Goin' up to set my soul free, I ain't coming down in chains
Spirit lives inside of me, all I have to do is set her free
Spirit lives inside of me, all I have to do is set her free
It's an old spiritual that seemed so appropriate to sing for the elephants, as
they are tethered on a chain overnight. It is known that if they aren't
chained they will leave. It is that simple. They may work alongside us
humans, love us, adore us, take care of us, and be our companions, but when
push comes to shove, they want their freedom. They want to return to their
life in the herd which is still in their cell memory.