As mentioned below, I saw the Broadway musical, "The Light in the Piazza," two nights ago.  I enjoyed it.  There was more complexity to it than the average musical.  And I found certain Taoist resonances in it, especially in regard to disability, a topic I have some interest in.  To make my points, however, I will have to reveal certain elements of the plot; so, if you are planning to see it anytime soon, you may want to wait to read this post later.  But if you are interested in disability issues, read on…

    Here’s a summary from John Simon’s review last year in New York Magazine:

An American mother, Margaret, in youthful middle age, and her young,
and younger acting, daughter, 26-year-old Clara, are on a visit to
Italy in 1953, where Margaret and her husband, Roy, honeymooned once, a
spent love ago. Pretty Clara, owing to a kick in the head by a pony
when she was 10, has become mentally beclouded: Her behavior lags
behind her woman’s body. But it’s something that does not obviously
show, or prevent handsome, 20-year-old Fabrizio, son of Signor
Naccarelli, a Florentine haberdasher, from falling in love with her on
first piazza sight.
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 

The
Naccarelli family—which also comprises the compassionate Signora, the
philandering elder son, Giuseppe, and Franca, his barren and resentful
but loving wife—takes to Clara. But Margaret, foreseeing the
consequences to both Clara and the Naccarellis if marriage should
ensue, tries, without quite being able to enlighten them why, to
prevent a wedding. So, too, if only by telephone, does Roy. It is
almost a case of Montagues and Capulets—and that’s as much as I can
tell you here.

    At one point in the action, the remote husband/father Roy states, unequivocally, that Clara is a "handicapped person."  I take this seriously.  I see this show as having something to say about disability.  And what it says, through the pained struggles of Margaret, is that however uncomfortable disability may be, in the end we cannot hide it, or run from it, or deny its life.  Rather, we need to allow it to express itself fully and follow where it may lead.

     Margaret does not tell the Naccarelli’s that Clara is mentally disabled.  This might be taken as a failure: shouldn’t the mother inform the husband-to-be of her daughter’s condition.  But she hesitates because she has consistently intervened in Clara’s life, protecting her from the dangers not just of her disability but also of independence in general.  But it is precisely in those interventions that Margaret has limited and stultified her daughter’s life. 

    When Fabrizio falls in love with Clara, he is falling in love with the complete her, disability and all.  There is one scene where she acts "erratically."  Her notion of love is so straightforward and "childish," that she throws a tantrum when Fabrizio’s sister-in-law kisses him.  Clara cannot stand adult-like cynicism and hypocrisy.  That, indeed, is a part of her disability.  This "erratic" behavior is displayed for all to seen, but just not given the name "disability." 

     So, in not revealing Clara’s disability, Margaret is allowing Clara to express herself completely, and not be defined merely by her disability.  By concealing the disability, the mother is letting the disability perform without words.  It is performance all can see, and they can name it as they like.  But to begin with the name "disabled" would be to narrow the perspective.  Clara is disabled, yes.  But she is also beautiful and loyal and passionate and funny.  She is many things.  It is her totality that Fabrizzio loves.  So, why tell him to focus on only one particular part of her.  In a way, by hiding the disability, Margaret, is allowing the disability its fullest expression.

    In a way, then, this is a "love conquers all" kind of story.  But it is also a "disability is not wholly disabling" story as well.

    And that is where the Taoist resonance comes in.  In Chuang Tzu, there are many images of disability: there are people in decline due to end of life frailties; there are people with one foot; there are crazy people.  But these images are used to question the superiority of abled-ness.  Chuang Tzu is constantly pushing against the notion that any particular life, or form of life, or level of ability, is necessarily any better than any other.  He tells us that in Tao, "they all move as one and the same." 

    This is precisely the unarticulated impulse that Margaret follows when she refrains from reducing Clara to only her disability and lets the young girl marry her ardent suitor.  What if the marriage falls apart?  What if Clara has to return home in a year or two?  What if Clara’s heart is broken?  All of these outcomes are possible for any abled person as equally as with Clara.  So, why not let the young woman go and make a life for herself and her new family?  Let her "move as one and the same" with everyone else.

     What they all find in the Piazza, then, is not light, but Tao.