The book Kristen sent....
"Is it possible, finally, for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another?
We can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close are we able to come to that person's essence? We convince ourselves that we know the other person well, but do we really know anything important about anyone?"
[ETA 02/15/15]
"The law presides over things of this world, finally. The world where shadow is shadow and light is light, yin is yin and yang is yang, I'm me and he's him. 'I am me and / He is him: / Autumn eve.' But you don't belong to that world, sonny. The world you belong to is above that or below that."
"Which is better?" I asked, out of simple curiosity. "Above or below?"
"It's not that either one is better," he said. After a brief coughing fit, he spat a glob of phlegm onto a tissue and studied it closely before crumpling the tissue and throwing it into a wastebasket. "It's not a question of better or worse. The point is, not to resist the flow. You go up when you're supposed to go up, find the highest tower and climb to the top. When you're supposed to go down, find the deepest well and go down to the bottom. When there's no flow, stay still. If you resist the flow, everything dries up. If everything dries up, the world is darkness. 'I am he and / He is me: / Spring nightfall.' Abandon the self, and there you are."
"Is this one of those times when there's no flow?" Kumiko asked.
"How's that?"
"IS THIS ONE OF THOSE TIMES WHEN THERE'S NO FLOW?" Kumiko shouted.
----
"No flow now," Mr. Honda said, nodding to himself. "Now's the time to stay still. Don't do anything. Just be careful of water. Sometime in the future, this young fellow could experience real suffering in connection with water. Water that's missing from where it's supposed to be. Water that's present where it's not supposed to be. In any case, be very, very careful of water."
[...]
"Tell you the truth, I suffered over water," he said. "There was no water in Nomonhan. The front line was a mess, and supplies were cut off. No water. No rations. No bandages. No bullets. It was awful. The big boys in the rear were interested in only one thing: occupying territory as fast as possible. Nobody was thinking about supplies. For three days, I had almost no water. If you left a washrag out, it'd be wet with dew in the morning. You could wring out a few drops to drink, but that was it. There was just no other water at all. I wanted to die, it was so bad. Being thirsty like that is the worst thing in the world. I was ready to run out and take a bullet. Men who got shot in the stomach would scream for water. Some of them went crazy with the thirst. It was a living hell. We could see a big river flowing right in front of us, with all the water anybody could ever drink. But we couldn't get to it. Between us and the river was a line of huge Soviet tanks with flamethrowers. Machine gun emplacements bristled like pincushions. Sharpshooters lined the high ground. They sent up flares at night. All we had was Model 38 infantry rifles and twenty-five bullets each. Still, most of my buddies went to the river. They couldn't take it. Not one of them made it back. They were all killed. So you see, when you're supposed to stay still, stay still."
He pulled out a tissue, blew his nose loudly, and examined the results before crumpling the tissue and throwing it into the wastebasket.
"It can be hard to wait for the flow to start," he said, "but when you have to wait, you have to wait. In the meantime, assume you're dead."
"You mean I should stay dead for now?" I asked.
"How's that?"
"YOU MEAN I SHOULD STAY DEAD FOR NOW?"
"That's it, sonny. 'Dying is the only way / For you to float free: / Nomonhan.'"
- The Wind-up Bird Chronicle
the weird, winding balcony; the red glow of the Coke machine in the corner by the elevator; hopeless incomprehension of the illustrations of how to unlock the door, repeatedly trying the wrong slot, having two cards both advertising pizza; the man who finally let me in and seeing two beds and asking if I was supposed to have a double, I don't need a double, I hope I didn't pay for a double; not being able to tell if he muttered "gutterpunk" when he walked away; the clash of patterns of fabrics of the room - chair, carpet, bed; the folders and papers spread out across the comforter, wondering what I could possibly be doing here; the incessant dread of the door.
Like seeing a ghost.
We can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close are we able to come to that person's essence? We convince ourselves that we know the other person well, but do we really know anything important about anyone?"
[ETA 02/15/15]
"The law presides over things of this world, finally. The world where shadow is shadow and light is light, yin is yin and yang is yang, I'm me and he's him. 'I am me and / He is him: / Autumn eve.' But you don't belong to that world, sonny. The world you belong to is above that or below that."
"Which is better?" I asked, out of simple curiosity. "Above or below?"
"It's not that either one is better," he said. After a brief coughing fit, he spat a glob of phlegm onto a tissue and studied it closely before crumpling the tissue and throwing it into a wastebasket. "It's not a question of better or worse. The point is, not to resist the flow. You go up when you're supposed to go up, find the highest tower and climb to the top. When you're supposed to go down, find the deepest well and go down to the bottom. When there's no flow, stay still. If you resist the flow, everything dries up. If everything dries up, the world is darkness. 'I am he and / He is me: / Spring nightfall.' Abandon the self, and there you are."
"Is this one of those times when there's no flow?" Kumiko asked.
"How's that?"
"IS THIS ONE OF THOSE TIMES WHEN THERE'S NO FLOW?" Kumiko shouted.
----
"No flow now," Mr. Honda said, nodding to himself. "Now's the time to stay still. Don't do anything. Just be careful of water. Sometime in the future, this young fellow could experience real suffering in connection with water. Water that's missing from where it's supposed to be. Water that's present where it's not supposed to be. In any case, be very, very careful of water."
[...]
"Tell you the truth, I suffered over water," he said. "There was no water in Nomonhan. The front line was a mess, and supplies were cut off. No water. No rations. No bandages. No bullets. It was awful. The big boys in the rear were interested in only one thing: occupying territory as fast as possible. Nobody was thinking about supplies. For three days, I had almost no water. If you left a washrag out, it'd be wet with dew in the morning. You could wring out a few drops to drink, but that was it. There was just no other water at all. I wanted to die, it was so bad. Being thirsty like that is the worst thing in the world. I was ready to run out and take a bullet. Men who got shot in the stomach would scream for water. Some of them went crazy with the thirst. It was a living hell. We could see a big river flowing right in front of us, with all the water anybody could ever drink. But we couldn't get to it. Between us and the river was a line of huge Soviet tanks with flamethrowers. Machine gun emplacements bristled like pincushions. Sharpshooters lined the high ground. They sent up flares at night. All we had was Model 38 infantry rifles and twenty-five bullets each. Still, most of my buddies went to the river. They couldn't take it. Not one of them made it back. They were all killed. So you see, when you're supposed to stay still, stay still."
He pulled out a tissue, blew his nose loudly, and examined the results before crumpling the tissue and throwing it into the wastebasket.
"It can be hard to wait for the flow to start," he said, "but when you have to wait, you have to wait. In the meantime, assume you're dead."
"You mean I should stay dead for now?" I asked.
"How's that?"
"YOU MEAN I SHOULD STAY DEAD FOR NOW?"
"That's it, sonny. 'Dying is the only way / For you to float free: / Nomonhan.'"
- The Wind-up Bird Chronicle
the weird, winding balcony; the red glow of the Coke machine in the corner by the elevator; hopeless incomprehension of the illustrations of how to unlock the door, repeatedly trying the wrong slot, having two cards both advertising pizza; the man who finally let me in and seeing two beds and asking if I was supposed to have a double, I don't need a double, I hope I didn't pay for a double; not being able to tell if he muttered "gutterpunk" when he walked away; the clash of patterns of fabrics of the room - chair, carpet, bed; the folders and papers spread out across the comforter, wondering what I could possibly be doing here; the incessant dread of the door.
Like seeing a ghost.