“Toh” in japanese means “and.” Of course there are a few variations depending on the context but what is most fascinating (especially being french and speaking a language in which every word can be woven, interwoven and threaded into its comrades in an endless effort of style) is that japanese as a language is a series of clustered words; and a similar logic exists in many aspects of everyday life, think of sushi: fish “and” rice. Perhaps a sauce. Recognizable parts, discernible parts, instead of a long complex amalgamation of thoughts.
I feel and think that I feel and think similarly (feel free to give that one another read). I digest and perceive the world in parts and clusters of parts. Fish and rice, left foot and right foot, today and tomorrow.
Hugo stop being a drama-queen, everyone does.
For now, sure, honestly, this was but a slight introduction to the sprawltasticness of the following commentary.
Now, instead of a bouquet, think of a pebble, and instead of a field of flowers, a mountain…
Catch my drift? (Being abroad has made me more american?… Right on… I guess…I mean like what-eveeeeer!)
They are in many ways, the same. They are the same unit of understanding, flowers, stones, days, housings, ideas.
At the same time, the relationship of a flower to a fellow flower within a bouquet, is drastically different from that of a flower in a field. I will leave you the liberty to apply a similar logic to the other examples (pardon the recurring sarcasm in this post, it seems it is in part due to my fear of sounding overly dogmatic. SO I will say it now I AM NOT trying to be dogmatic, I am unabashedly undressing my mind in public… Feast your eyes!).
“Sharing one’s nutrients with a fellow flower is a deeply intimate experience” once whispered to me a dying daisy. I believe her.
By “sprawling commentary,” I meant to say one that is slightly eclectic, somewhat sporadic, very Pollock-istic.
Recently a new river has been irrigating my neurons and cleansing my arteries. It is the one that flows through many in Japan, if you look too closely, too fast, it may seem old-fashion, antiquated, you may omit the “T” and only read “rust.”
(t)rust, isn’t a catalyst as much as a magnetic presence, a force found within.
I realized from working with my Japanese counterparts and speaking to fellow expatriates (a bit of formal terminology never hurt), that we were a not-so-super-duper-trust-worthy bunch on the other side of the pacific. Especially myself. I actually thought I was slightly “jaded” or “so over” design, instead I think I am very scared of my inabilities to create what I would like to.
Think of a pebble. It probably was a big stone and over time, or all of a sudden (or because a freeing encounter with a water-jet cutter) was separated. Liberty.
Liberty from the paradigm, from the nomenclature of the stone (from the field of flowers). At the same time, it’s hard to see very far when you are a pebble. It’s hard to stack up on top of fellow pebbles to see higher. It’s also an intimidating thought to have to take on such an endeavor… But you are free… Aren’t you?
So then… You can keep trying to stack up with fellow pebbles, drift with the water, stack up amongst more welcoming beings, like yarn, stay immobile. It’s all quite tricky.
I feel like I have tried many if not all of these solutions and felt frustrated: I am too lazy to keep trying piling up among other pebbles, to learn new languages (like speaking yarn, or wind), and too much of a coward to drift with the water.
Only then did I let it in.
Roland Barthes describes haikus as jewels, jewels that are most beautiful in their ability to reflect and refract one another’s light.
That takes trust. Transformation is frightening it exists in one’s words being translated, it exists in a light being refracted, it exists in death, it exists in feelings. We forever transform.
I told myself I did not fear change because I was a tough little pebble, because I taught myself to hold on to the bare minimum, to all I would have until the my end would come: myself. “You can push me as much as you want, you can’t get to me.” But who said you were trying to get to me?! And even if someone was, so what?
Having the luxury of engulfing others’ light so in turn I can brighten others’ days is worth it (but also do our actions need to be “worth it” to take place?). Closing up by fear of being tainted, hurt, chiseled, changed, isn’t quite as enjoyable.
But to me light is too visible, shallow, too easy to con. What I have felt in the past few days wasn’t a light. It was a magnetic pull, and gentle invitation to “can,” to “be able to.” Trusting a paradigm, an exterior system is complicated and bears less gifts. On the other hand, trusting oneself, trusting one fever and passion is priceless.
This was a long piece of writing. I hope it wasn’t dogmatic. It wasn’t meant to be. Only an ode to trust, an ode to something I hope to discover more of in the next few days.