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My best guess is that Mysteriousness refers to pretty much anything I don’t understand…and that’s a lot. I’m not talking about the grand “Are You There, God? It’s Me, —” variety. I mean more of the daily “I haven’t the slightest clue!” type. Here goes: I can say with the confidence of the ignorant that there is no threat of a mystery shortage…ever. The more we seem to have figured things out, the more “Sorcerer’s Apprentice” (Mouse v. Mops) we become. Always more. How did Bach happen? All that ocean? Origami? Xhosa? Omelets? Eyelashes? So many things that confound: Why did it take so long to put wheels on suitcases? “Thank you” in Japanese is arrigato, in Portuguese it’s obrigado. Why salt? Religion? Cornhole? Echidnas? Us? I should have noticed long before I did: Frigidaire (frigid air!), Sansabelt (no belt!), Toodle-loo (à tout à l’heure?). Those are the easy, obvious, puzzling, and pointless kinds of mysteries that attract me. And what about everything else in the universe? I myself have no real hope of comprehending gravity, electricity, ice/water/steam, tipping %, TV, magic, time. I don’t really need to know. Pulled between my desire to know all of the secrets behind the magic (the prestige) and despising my eagerness to ruin the mystery, I don’t want to know what goes on “behind the scenes,” which is a big reason that I’m in show business (I am a choreographer). I can’t prove or even define The Mysterious but…I know it when I don’t see it.



Mark Morris is the artistic director of the Mark Morris Dance Group.