Episode Ninety-Seven: The Interview-Shebana Coelho

Shebana entertains the "other worlds" theory-the fact that other universes exist just millimeters from our own...and as for proof? Well, there was that thing she saw as a child. Listen in on this longer episode as we talk the multi-verse, creativity and where magic comes from.

Transcript

Welcome to this week's episode of Bite-Sized Blessings.

This week,

The format of the podcast is a little different.

My guest is exceptional,

However.

Her name is Shabana Coelho,

And right now she's living in Spain.

I found this remarkable woman after doing some research on the internet and reached out to her and asked her to be a guest,

And very quickly she replied yes.

At the beginning of this episode,

I do feature one of her poems,

A poem called Mud,

And it was first published in Apogee Journal.

And then at the very end of this episode,

There's going to be another poem,

Another beautiful poem.

This is the one I actually discovered her through.

It's called Miranam,

And what caught me with the poem is that it's in Urdu,

Which is the language that I was surrounded by when I was a child growing up overseas.

And so I was instantly,

Instantly intrigued.

So I did a little more research.

She's a very accomplished creative and writer.

She's a filmmaker.

She has a book coming out so very soon.

But what caught my eye was her play.

She's also written a play,

And the title is The Good Manners of Colonized Subjects,

Which was recently part of the conference on exploring India identities through the colonial relationship in Cadiz,

Spain.

The event happened in September,

And it was quite a success.

At any rate,

This is a human being who can pretty much do it all.

Her story is fascinating.

Right after the poem,

Mud,

I will lead with my regular teaser for the episode,

So be patient.

This episode is absolutely worth the wait.

And so now,

My episode with Shabana,

And it's really an interesting one.

The rain comes like it belongs only to me.

My grandmother loves the sound of it on the metal paint cans that she has filled with mud from the garden.

Mud that I lifted in my own muthi,

My palm,

Like that song we sang in school from that old movie.

Nanni munni bachche tere muthi mein kya hai?

Little children,

What do you hold in your palm?

And we say,

Muthi mein takdir hamaare,

Which I think has to do with our future.

But how can a future fit in my hand?

Even mud trickles through it.

Even that.

When I still,

When I lived in India,

And maybe I was,

I want to say,

Must have been before I went to boarding school,

So nine,

I would say.

And we lived in a bungalow at the bottom of a slope,

And the bungalow had a little garden,

And right next door was the garden or the courtyard of another building.

And I would play in that garden in front of the bungalow,

And I would play with other kids from the building.

So we would cross the wall,

You know,

It was a low wall,

And I would cross it and go over to the building and then cross back to my house.

One time,

In the high,

In like afternoon,

The height of the afternoon,

I,

Hanging in the middle of the air between the first floor balcony of the building and the ground,

I saw what I still,

I,

It's like a big scissors,

Like shears,

You know,

Like gardening shears,

Just like suspended.

Like when someone asked me,

Did you ever,

Do you ever believe in other worldly,

Like have you ever seen something that,

I always think of that.

I always think of that.

It's difficult too,

Because I've done so many things,

And I,

I think what I thought,

It's what I'm doing now,

So I'm making a film now.

I don't,

I try not to say I'm a filmmaker,

Or I'm a poet,

Or I say what I'm doing now.

I've always followed what calls,

But I,

Maybe I won't say that in a conversation,

But that's how I think of myself,

Following what calls.

And I don't think I say that out loud,

But if you talk to me for a little while,

I might say that,

Well,

That's really how I see myself.

And I really,

That's what I've been doing.

I mean,

I love to travel for sure.

I'm a journeyer.

I love travel,

Big landscapes,

And it's true,

I love to write.

So maybe I like to,

There was this,

These three phrases I use a lot,

Or three words in a lot of the workshops I do,

Which is write,

Journey,

Embody.

And so I think those three words are what describe me.

I was reading a little bit about your website,

And it said that you went to Spain in February.

Yeah.

And I think,

Did you not expect to stay,

Or how did that happen?

No,

No,

I expected to stay,

Meaning I applied for a year long visa to study flamenco.

So I expected to stay a year,

And I expect to renew my visa and stay another year.

First of all,

Flamenco is amazing and really beautiful.

And I watched you a little bit on your website,

And you just are so graceful.

You have such poise,

Which I am not.

I'm like a bull in a china shop.

I just come from this family from Sweden and Norway,

And I think,

You know,

I'm built to like plow the fields.

But you have this beautiful body that so really can embody this really gorgeous,

Gorgeous music and you just,

It translates so well.

What about flamenco called you?

And I will say that I have such issues with seeing how my body is changing.

Like I'm 50 now,

And I think I just want to say that.

You know,

I think we all are dancers.

I really do.

I feel we all move.

And I think it's really the journey of our lives is to love the body,

This body,

Your body.

It's very difficult.

So it's so difficult.

And I like coming to Spain,

Where there are so many different bodies and so many dancers,

I really have to go through an experience of,

You know,

It was difficult.

I was comparing myself so much.

Like I felt like I was starting over in flamenco,

Even though I've started and stopped it for over,

I would say nine years since the first,

I wasn't doing it the whole time.

But start,

Stop,

Explore.

And I think flamenco,

There's an article that's coming out in this magazine next month called Stance on Dance,

Where I talk about encounters with flamenco.

It's a Albuquerque,

New Mexico based publication that's run by a woman named Emily.

And she's really great,

Emily Wiederhold.

She's just amazing.

So I talk about what it's been like,

But what it is about flamenco,

I think it's this thing of,

It has so many emotions in it that it calls things out of you.

You know,

Even it's not like getting the step right.

Yeah,

You want to get the steps right and you want to get,

But you also it's calling you,

Especially the song,

Because flamenco is not just the dance,

It's the song that defines everything,

The old songs and then the music and response to it.

And then the guitar that came in later,

It's the youngest part of the flamenco triad.

And then,

You know,

Honestly,

It's like I keep,

It's a mystery to me.

It continues to be a mystery to me.

I say to myself,

Flamenco is a metaphor.

I don't know for what,

But it matters.

It's connected somehow to my body's ability to express emotion,

Because it's pretty clear to me that my life's work is like doing these plays,

These solo plays I call about colonization and space and identity and place and purpose.

And so there's something about flamenco that just is allowing my body,

It's training my body to express itself.

I did grow up in a religious household.

My name,

My father was very Catholic,

The Kolo,

Like I grew up raised Catholic,

But my mother is Muslim.

And so that's why my first name is Shabana and my parents,

Meaning we went to both,

I was raised Catholic.

Like I went to communion confirmation.

So yeah,

It was like,

I remember there was an aunt who would visit India and she would make me go to church every day instead of just Sunday,

You know,

When she was there.

And it was just such a,

I was like,

And I went to catechism.

So I did grow up that way.

And then I remember we moved,

We moved from India to New Jersey.

And I was in high school and I don't know what prompted me,

But I remember telling my dad because even when we moved to New Jersey,

He said,

We still had to go to church on Sundays,

You know,

And we found a church and all this and went.

And I remember telling my dad that I would not go to church anymore.

I don't know,

Maybe it was I was in high school or college,

But I remember the metaphor that I used,

I said,

I said,

You know,

I used to wear a watch.

I used to always wear a watch.

And then one day the battery ran out and I took it out because I needed to get it fixed and I never put it back on.

And I never missed it.

So I said,

That's how I feel about church,

Like the way that we go.

I don't miss it.

So I remember going through all of that.

Now it feels like a dream,

But that did happen.

But then I also grew up,

My mother wasn't religious,

But I would say like culturally Christian.

She says the prayers.

We went to all the Muslim ceremonies and Eid and Muharram and all these things.

So I grew up really,

Even though technically I was officially Catholic,

I grew up in both those communities in Bombay.

And we didn't really move when we came to New Jersey.

I just went to high school and college in one place.

But it was I think I began traveling because I do call it my resurrection here because I do have a lot of Catholic.

I mean,

I was raised in that,

You know.

So I have this joke,

I talk about 33 is my resurrection year.

I think it's like everyone's resurrection year is 33.

That's when I really began.

I started living like I wanted to.

I left New York.

I had gotten a scholarship for a short story.

I mean,

No money,

Not even a scholarship,

Money,

Money,

$8,

000 or $7,

000 for the promise showed in one short story that I still haven't been able to publish.

But well,

No one has published it.

But the point is that I was like,

I'm gonna go to Tierra del Fuego.

I have always wanted to go there.

So that's how I began traveling.

It's like the ends of the earth.

You just go to the ends of the earth.

People use that phrase a lot,

Fin de mundo,

The end of the world in Spanish.

But the slyest twist on that,

The motto of the city that you see like painted on the walls is fin de mundo,

Principio de todo,

The end of the world,

The beginning of everything.

I've always struggled as an artist with making a livelihood.

And I think it's a complicated relationship I've had with money.

There is some boldness,

Some bold step in belief about livelihood or some very simple,

Important offering.

You know,

Whatever it is I do has to be less that can touch more people.

So it's really been this time of,

I would say,

Uncertainty and shadow,

An in-between place,

I would say.

Yes,

Many of my guests have talked about that liminal space wherever it is in their lives.

I mean,

I really deeply feel that that liminal space is where all life comes from,

Where all ideas,

Where all beautiful things emerge,

Because they have time to kind of ferment a little bit and then hopefully come forward into your consciousness.

But yeah,

Sometimes that space is very uncomfortable and can make you sick to your stomach a little bit.

But yeah,

It's a really,

It's a powerful space.

I was thinking about it because when you sent the question,

And when I still,

When I lived in India and maybe I was,

I want to say,

Must have been before I went to boarding school,

So nine,

I would say.

And we lived in a bungalow at the bottom of a slope.

And the bungalow had a little garden and right next door was the garden or the courtyard of another building.

And in Bombay,

I remember like high noon or like that,

Not high noon,

But like maybe two,

Three,

When it's really,

Really hot.

It's a time when no one is out like this.

And they say only mad dogs and Englishmen or something like this.

There's a phrase we say are out.

And I have memories of being out at that time and seeing like women with umbrellas walking and like people being like,

What are you doing at this time?

And I would play in that garden in front of the bungalow.

And I would play with other kids from the building.

So we would cross the wall,

You know,

It was a low wall and I would cross it and go over to the building and then cross back to my house.

One time in the high,

In like afternoon,

The height of the afternoon,

I,

Hanging in the middle of the air between the first floor balcony of the building and the ground,

I saw what I still,

I,

It's like a big scissors,

Like shears,

You know,

Like gardening shears,

Just like suspended in the air.

And I literally,

To this day,

I don't know,

Was it a dream?

Did I really see?

But it is like when someone asked me,

Did you ever,

Do you ever believe in other worldly,

Like have you ever seen something that I always think of that.

I always think of that.

Because I can see like the silver glint of these very sharp scissors,

You know,

Hanging in the middle of the air.

I remember like doing a double take,

Being like,

Am I really seeing this?

Am I really seeing this?

That's that,

That is connected.

It's like,

You know how retroactively sometimes you make a memory,

The memory is formed like a different memory is formed because you learn new information.

Now somehow this has gotten connected in my head that moment of seeing the scissors with this other kind of mythic magic,

Curious moment that when I was a baby,

My mother said I would get sick a lot.

Like I would have fevers a lot.

And I was a very cute baby,

Supposedly,

My mom says.

So in India,

You see babies that have this little black dot that sort of,

It's called to keep the nuzzer off because all these people coveting you,

It's like strong energy.

And so my mom was like,

I would get sick,

I would get fevers all the time,

Like almost too often.

So one time she took me to this,

To this woman.

And I again,

I remember we were in this small house,

Like a really small house with lots of earth.

And I remember this woman burning red chilies with the seeds on a,

Let's call it a,

Oh God,

What is it called?

Like a frying pan.

I think it's like a tadka it's called in Hindi.

And without any oil and the searing,

And it was like some way to cleanse,

To take something away the nuzzer off me.

This is what I remember.

Someone must have told my mother or maybe someone told my grandmother.

I don't know the whole story,

But when I'm saying it now,

Like those two things have gotten connected in my head in some inexplicable way that I was so sensitive to other people's gaze that I got sick all the time.

And then the scissors,

How do I don't,

I don't know.

Do you,

Were the scissors just like the size of regular scissors?

Were they larger or?

They were like gardening shears,

Larger.

And were they open or closed?

Were they moving?

They weren't moving.

They were just like this,

Like a,

Like in a scissors,

Like just hanging like silver glinting in the very hot sun.

And like literally it was like hanging in the middle of the air.

And I'm like,

What?

How?

Yeah.

I'm sure you've returned again and again to try to figure this out.

I haven't so much.

It's just there.

But when I think about it every now and then,

I think about it because as a person who lives in poems,

I feel like I've lived in so,

I live in so many worlds in a moment.

When you write a poem,

When you dance,

You're living in all these other worlds at the same time.

And the refrain you often hear as an artist or a creative person who,

Or a spiritual person,

Is like,

But the real world,

The world is not like this.

The real world is different.

The real world is this,

This world of forms.

That,

That maybe that's a symbol that scissors is like that all these worlds are as real.

I mean,

Like we,

We still live,

We live in a world where we don't know the origin and the end is what,

You know,

Like,

I mean,

It's,

You cannot say everything is known.

I don't know.

I feel I'm being called to believe in these wild worlds as that they are as real as maybe even more real.

I think that's exciting because,

And I really like your use of the words wild worlds,

Because it's very,

For me,

It's super exciting.

Who knows what potentialities lie there?

Who knows how we can grow or evolve or change or,

Or help this reality if we connect,

Or if we have a deeper relationship with those other worlds.

I think,

You know,

I'm hearing your story and what I'm thinking is what a huge gift to give to a kid because kids are open to the idea of enchantment and to things maybe happening that adults maybe would say,

Oh,

I'm hallucinating or that didn't actually happen,

But you had this event happen to you.

You know,

The scissors were glinting in the sun,

They're hanging in the air.

And instead of running away from it,

It feels like you embraced it a little bit like,

Oh,

This is not,

I don't know if you thought this is normal,

But it's not something I should be afraid of.

Is that true?

Yeah,

It didn't.

It was just,

It was just there and I was just looking at it and there was no sense of anything except it was fine to be there and look at it.

And you were shown this great secret,

I think,

Which is so beautiful.

I mean,

As a child,

You were shown this great secret of the universe,

That there's more to it than we can observe.

And not many people are chosen to receive that knowledge.

It's heavy knowledge,

You know,

Because you're walking around in this reality,

Where probably most of the people,

Let's just say,

Are like,

This is it.

This is what we can see.

This is what you know,

That there's more.

And that's a beautiful and powerful place to be able to stand in this reality,

But know and have that knowledge and operate from that base.

I think,

For me,

That would be a huge gift.

Thank you.

Yeah,

Curious space.

And in my mind,

Like what happened for you is that you were given a glimpse of,

You know,

Another world,

Another reality.

You know,

I read science magazines and a few years ago,

There was this little blurb in Discover magazine that said,

Scientists posit that another universe exists just millimeters away from our own.

And so it would make sense that things bleed through every once in a while.

But also,

I feel like your scissors was a really intentional gift to you.

That vision.

Because it has opened you up to the realm of possibility.

Which is really such a priceless gift.

Yeah.

Wow,

I really want to finish,

Makes me want to really finish this novel that I began,

That is so close to being done,

But it's about coming from a lineage of stone and tree.

And I feel like the scissors now is part of something.

Not that I'm speaking it out loud.

Let's see.

I have been thinking a lot about legacy.

I know a lot of women,

They live their own lives,

You might say,

You know,

They've lived very different lives off the grid,

Maybe hidden.

And I had this one,

I had a conversation with one of my friends,

When all this happened,

The car accident,

And she was she's 50 something.

And she said something like,

She's done what she came here for.

It was a sense of like being done,

You know,

Like everything else is extra.

Like what what matters now?

Like what is left?

I really have done everything I wanted to do.

In the sense like I began traveling,

In the sense of everything that called to me I have followed at whatever cost I have,

I've not not replied to what I call a call.

So for a while I was I was feeling that out.

Do I feel that way as well?

And I,

For a while I felt I was feeling that way.

And then I'm in this period of discovering my voice,

Like singing and things like this.

And I just tried I sing this and that I sing flamenco,

Mostly to understand the dance,

But I've noticed it's a hard time keeping the melody.

And so I someone had suggested a singing,

Like a vocal coach who really knows about things like this.

And so she I had a class with her just about last week,

I think it was.

And she just said,

I have really weak vocal cords,

Like to sing,

Like she said,

You have a great soul,

But your vocal cords are very weak,

Like the air when the cord,

The air goes to the cord,

They need to close and that and they're not and you know,

You need to do exercises.

And that explained why I think why I've had a hard time carrying a melody.

And once she said these things,

And I felt this,

You know,

She talked about that babies,

They cry for hours and they don't get hoarse because they're singing from their pelvis.

It's like a primal scream,

They're singing right here.

And she said,

That's where the song needs to come from.

I just mean that spoke to me.

So it's the thing.

It's like,

If it's speaking to me,

That I suddenly was like,

Wow,

I want to live in the world so I can find this primal voice.

And so I feel a little bit more motivated,

Which I think is coming out of this time of slow,

You know,

But still not wanting to go as fast.

And I have someone outside the chorus,

Like a chorus is singing somewhere out there.

Or someone maybe it's kind of wild.

That's amazing.

Just as we're talking about using our voice that happens.

Yes,

Really beautiful.

It's like really sweet and like coral.

I take it that's not a,

Is it not a normal occurrence every evening?

No,

Not like this.

I just wonder if there's like some kind of procession or something almost like that.

Yeah.

Can you hear?

That's amazing.

Oh my gosh.

Thank you so much for listening to this episode of Bite-sized Blessings and my interview with the creative and astonishingly talented Shabana.

Please check out her work.

There will be a link to her website on the episode show notes.

She has lots more poetry and other super cool stuff on her website.

I need to thank Shabana for the time and the conversation that she had with me.

I also need to ask my listeners,

Please consider subscribing to the podcast.

And if you have time,

Please consider giving me a rating or writing a review.

Those ratings and reviews help others find us.

I need to thank the creators of the music used for this episode.

Frank Schroeder,

Mikal Mojskovic,

Winnie the Moog,

Alexander Nakarada,

Fat Sounds,

And Sasha N.

For complete attribution,

Please see the Bite-sized Blessings website at Bite-sizedBlessings.

Com.

On the website,

You'll find links to books,

Music,

Poetry,

And of course Shabana's website.

All of these things,

I hope they lighten and brighten your day.

Thank you for listening.

And here's my one request.

Be like Shabana.

Live with the idea that there are other worlds.

And indeed,

They're separated by millimeters from ours.

Those worlds have answers,

They have magic,

They have possibility.

So live with that idea.

And I'll see you next week,

So very soon,

For episode 98.

And now,

Shabana's poem,

Mera Naam.

Mera naam kya hai?

Main kaha se aayi hoon?

Such a story in one name.

There are wonders in my name.

Kehta hai kaun?

Naalai bulbul ko be asar.

Parde mein gul ke laak jigar jaak ho gaye.

The wanderers wander in Urdu and the kings die in English.

Everyone has lost the first song.

The Portuguese came singing from Sagresh.

Os luzíadas,

Os luzíadas,

Cha-cha-cha.

Já chegados junto a terra e as correntes indicas e o gandes encerrau.

Já chegados a esta terra de riquezas abundante.

Este céu temendo.

Camões,

Camões,

Camões.

They brought the color of gold and blinded fell on the sand.

In the village,

A man yelled in Konkani,

Konaaili.

The father of my father of my father answered,

Mata Guttuna.

Immediately,

A crow died.

Their sound would kill everyone.

The sound would be the end.