Finding the light

When I first heard Plato’s cave allegory many years ago, I was struck with a profound sense of awe. It was as if Plato had risen from the dead and spoken directly to me. In this passage from The Republic, Plato’s wise mentor, Socrates, tells us about a group of men shackled in a cave. A fire burns behind them as they face the wall, staring at shadows of objects projected in front of them. The men perceive the shadows as reality, for this is all they have seen their entire lives.

One man, however, manages to unchain himself and escape from the cave. When he first steps into the real world, he is blinded by the brightness of the sun. But gradually his eyes adjust, and he begins to see the true nature of things. It becomes clear to him that the world of the cave is not the real world at all. The man rushes back to tell his friends about this shocking discovery, but the men only scoff at him, and some even react with anger, for they believe that there is no other reality than the shadows in front of them.

To this day, the allegory of the cave remains startlingly complex and thought-provoking. Many people, in their own way, live inside that cave, staring at nothing but their own false reality and unable to accept anything else. The man who escaped from that cave symbolizes more than mere physical freedom; he represents the knowledge one must have to grow spiritually and intellectually as human beings, to free ourselves from the confines of society.

Enlightenment cannot be attained without self-knowledge. The shadows on the wall of the cave represent fear and ignorance. How many people do you know are unable to see anything beyond those shadows? How many are unwilling to grow and accept something bigger than themselves?

For years, I too, was stuck in this cave. Sometimes, during times times of frustration I even find myself back inside, hiding from reality. But the light! It shines on us despite all the madness. The light is the truth, and to live in a world without it is to become a shadow on a wall, forever confined to obscurity.

Getting a ‘Sense of the World’

In 1821, James Holman was blind when he traveled the world and followed his dreams, yet he still had the capacity to experience the environment more boldly and passionately than many of his peers. He was sightless, yes, but his vision remained quite clear. In Jason Roberts‘ stirring and inspiring biography, “A Sense of the World,” we embark on Holman’s journey toward self-fulfillment and satisfying his life’s ambitions. The man lost his sight at the age of 25, and yet he never allowed this tragic adversity to overcome him.

How many of us give up when faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles, settling for a life of complacency and bitterness? While reading about Holman’s travails, I realized how easy it is for us to lose ourselves while trying so very hard to find ourselves. It’s ironic; we desire a life without pain, yet instead of making positive choices, we take the alternate route, a destructive path of self-inflicted agony and despair.

James Holman was blind, but he was unstoppable. He kept his dreams alive, and in turn, his dreams kept him alive.

What is success?

What is success?

Ralph Fiennes says it’s all about showing love, word by word, gesture by gesture. I agree with him, but I don’t think I’ve practiced that very much. Seems like these days I’m more concerned about when I’m going to “make it” in this business.

But that leads to the question, what does it really mean to “make it”? Again, does it go back to love? I don’t know the answer to that, but I can say from experience that it feels good to do something, well, good.

I imagine that when I become a famous filmmaker I’ll be doing a lot for the young ones who are struggling like I am right now. This may sound like a paradox — L.A., after all, isn’t known as the City of Altruism — but I want to succeed in this business so that I can give. Whether it’s through a film that inspires an audience or helping an aspiring screenwriter find his or her voice, I guess that’s love, isn’t it?

“It’s not who you are underneath, it’s what you do that defines you.”

- Rachel Dawes

Hungry for conversation

Is it too much to ask for intelligent, provocative conversations with another human being?

I don’t judge, I don’t discriminate, and I don’t think I set any unreasonable expectations. I understand that not everyone is inclined to engage in thoughtful, intellectual discourse. But I’m an adult now! Adult conversation — the delightful, refreshing exchange of ideas — has become a rare, difficult-to-find, commodity.

As some people know, I’m not a serious thinker every minute of the day. In fact, sometimes I can be quite silly. Lately, however, I’ve been finding that triviality has begun to outweigh intellectualism; melodrama over self-awareness; easy truisms over challenging thought.

There’s a scene in Richard Linklater’s film, Waking Life (pictured above), in which the protagonist is stopped by a stranger who expresses her desire to step beyond the comfort of social boundaries, stop behaving like “ants,” and start getting to know one another as human beings. It was a refreshing, thought-provoking moment.

I’m hungry. Let’s talk.

Meeting Ang Lee

Ang Lee is a quiet, self-effacing man whose intelligence can be discerned through his wise, gentle eyes. In the summer of 2003, I met the enormously gifted director of Brokeback Mountain and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, when I was a production assistant on the set of Hulk, Ang’s risky foray into the comic book film genre. This is a man who is able to control his set with few words (it was the A.D. who did most of the screaming), and was clearly respected by everyone on the production.

The first time I spoke with him was right after a day’s shoot had been completed. I approached him, my heart pounding with nervousness, my mind filled with incoherent thoughts, and I’m not sure exactly what I said to him first, but I remember asking for his advice on how to break into the film business.

“Write a good script,” he said. “That’s the best way. Keep writing.”

I nodded, shook his hand, and thanked him.

I’m sure we exchanged more words than that, but that’s what I remember most. I was overjoyed, a giddy schoolboy who had just met one of his heroes. I have a black and white photo of him with the director of photography, Fred Elmes, that I took, sitting on my desk. The second time I approached Ang I asked him if I could take a picture with him, which of course he said yes.

It was surreal, being in the same space with one of the most talented film directors in Hollywood — and, like me, he’s Asian American. Meeting Ang Lee was a reminder that we all have the capacity to fulfill our dreams and live the life we desire.

Welcome to L.A.

Long before I moved to Los Angeles, while I was a film student in San Francisco, I was told that the city was a breeding ground for superficiality. People in L.A., they said, were shallow creatures concerned about nothing except for breaking into showbusiness. How ironic, I thought, that the City of Angels was filled with self-absorbed demons. Still, after graduating from the Academy of Art College, I packed up all my stuff and moved to the alleged hellhole.

They couldn’t have been more wrong … and right. L.A. is far from the heartless town people say it is. I’ve met some of my best friends here. Yet there’s an underlying sense of selfishness that I haven’t felt anywhere else (well, besides film school). It’s only natural, of course. This is, after all, a city populated by many wanna-be actors, aspiring screenwriters, and struggling film directors. No one moves to L.A. to be a philanthropist.

I came out here to pursue a career in — yes, showbusiness. I’m a screenwriter. Although I’m not sure if pursue is the right term. The word makes me think of a man or woman chasing after something. But how does one chase after a career? Really, you can only work at accomplishing what you want. You go to a job interview to get a job, but you don’t chase it around like a dog.

Maybe that’s why there’s so much tension in this city. Everyone seems to believe they’re in some sort of competition. The competitive nature of this business is normal, but there’s no guarantee that any of us will reach the finish line — or if the finish line even exists. My theory? It’s all in our head. There’s no race. The best we can do is work on our daily accomplishments and not worry about winning. Because, really, we succeed everyday by showing up and doing the work.

L.A. is a great place to be creative. It’d be a shame to be consumed by the vices of the weak and selfish, when there are far more important things to do in life.

Fans go nuts — literally — for TV drama

A great — and humorous — example of the power of passion: fans of the CBS drama “Jericho” delivered 50,000 pounds of peanuts to the network as a protest against the cancellation of the show. “CBS, deluged with calls, messages and shipments of nuts signifying viewer displeasure, is reconsidering its decision,” the Associated Press reported. The show, after just one season on air, was being axed by CBS because of low ratings.

I wonder if something like this would have stopped ABC from canceling “My So-Called Life” 13 years ago?