Have You Had a Taste Yet?

A thought-provoking passage from a story Yam Gruel by the early 20^th century Japanese writer Akutagawa:

“Yam gruel is a gruel made by boiling slices of yam in a soup of sweet arrow-root.  […]  It was regarded as the supreme delicacy. […]  Accordingly, such lower officials as Goi could taste it only once a year when they were invited as […] guests to the Regent’s Palace. […] On such occasion they could eat no more of it than barely enough to moisten their lips.  So it had been [Goi’s] long-cherished desire to satiate himself with yam gruel.  Of course, he himself did not confide his desire to anyone.  He himself might not have been clearly aware that it had been his life-long wish.  But as a matter of fact, it would hardly be too much to say that he lived for this purpose.  A man sometimes devotes his life to a desire which he is not sure will ever be fulfilled.  Those who laugh at this folly are, after all, no more than mere spectators of life.”

I have but one question for you this morning, but I’ll state it thrice:

Are you aware of what drives you and why? 

What yam gruel are you still chasing?

Have you had a taste of life yet?

Reference:  Rashomon & Other Stories, by Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Read Spinoza

“Modernity dethrones humankind.  It reduces all our thoughts, purposes, and hopes to the object of scientific inquiry.  It makes laboratory rats of us all.  Spinoza actively embraces this collapse of the human into mere nature.  Leibniz abhors it.

[...] Leibniz intends to demonstrate that we are the most special of all beings in nature.  In the entire universe, [Leibniz] says, there is nothing more real or more permanent or more worthy of love than the individual human soul.  We belong to the innermost reality of things.  The human being is the new God, he announces:  Each of us is “a small divinity and eminently a universe.” (1)

Do we belong to the innermost reality of things, as Leibniz suggests?  Of course we do, but so do our pets and pet-rocks.  Nature is one even if we compartmentalize it into many.

Is each of us ”eminently a universe?”  Of course.  But there is nothing divine (i.e. transitive, i.e. created) about this divinity.  Nature is naturally, spontaneously, essentially divine, i.e. self-creating, i.e. uncreated, i.e. non-divine, if you wish to split dichotomous/dualistic hairs.

“The crucial difference between these two philosophers comes down to this: Spinoza finds happiness in loving God [which Spinoza equates with Nature/Reality]; Leibniz finds it in God loving us back.” (2)

If you are chasing ego and reassurance, read Leibniz.  If you are chasing the ordinary perfection of what presently is, read Spinoza.  If – however – you have no time to understand either, read Matthew Stewart’s “The Courtier and the Heretic.”  It’s a 300 pages long ping-pong of historico-philosophical intrigue.

Reference:

“The Courtier and the Heretic,” Matthew Stewart, 2006, W.W. Norton, (1) p. 241. (2) p. 253

Who’s Flying?

"At the first, life was given unto me without my consent, therefore my own existence, filled me with astonishment." (The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, McCarthy Verstion, CLXXXVIII)

If you are reading this, you are alive.  That much is certain.  But just because you are alive that doesn’t necessarily mean you are actively aware of it.  But now, I hope, you are.  And now that you are (off your autopilot), ask yourself: who’s flying this flock of consciousness?

Chirp on this, mind-bird.

From Paris to Provence

Thirst for Sun

1888: “Van Gogh was  […] talking of his wish to go south, ostensibly in search of more light and colour.”

“Vincent […] cited severe Parisian winter and his indifferent health […] as reasons for his departure: ‘It appears to me to be almost impossible to work in Paris, unless you have a retreat where you can go to recover your peace of mind and self-confidence.  Otherwise you become irrevocably dulled.’  He described himself as a worn-out Paris cab horse about to be put out to pasture.”

Snow, Not Sun

Still 1888: “Van Gogh arrived in Arles, the capital of Provence. […] he found to his amazement that the little town […] lay under a think blanket of snow.”

South-thirsty, sun-thirsty Van Gogh skips no beat: his betrayed expectations aside, he instantly zooms in on the ordinary perfection of Provence snow.  He writes: “’And the landscapes in the snow, with the white peaks against a sky as bright as the snow, were just like the winter landscapes the Japanese do.” For all that, the almond trees were already in blossom.”

Acceptance is Always In Season

Still 1888, the Provence honeymoon is over.  In a letter to his brother, Theo, Van Gogh writes: “I am sure the town of Arles was infinitely more glorious in the past.  Everything has a blighted, faded quality about it now.  Still, if you look at it for a long time, the old charm re-emerges.  And that is why I can see that I will lose absolutely nothing by staying where I am and contenting myself with watching things go by, like a spider in its web waiting for flies.  I can’t force things, and now that I’m settled in, I’ll be able to profit from all the fine days and all the opportunities for catching a real picture now and then.”

Reality is never wrong (whether you travel it from North to South or from South back to North).

Acceptance is always in season (on this globe of ours no matter where you are witnessing this life from).

Notice (the ordinary perfection of) whatever immediately is.

Resources:

Humility Check

References:

The Letters of Vincent van Gogh, Penguin Classics, 1996

Do Me a Favor: Pause for a Little Second

Sunday afternoon: loading groceries in the far back of a Giant Eagle parking lot, on South Side. A kid in a hoodie, with a toothless smile: "Show me some love..." - an unlabeled CD in his hand. I: "Demo?" He: "Demo." Both smiling - I am sure to different mindstreams. I: "What's your band's called?" He: "Lil Ice."

I give him $5: "Get rich and famous... and keep the peace!" He: "You know it." Perfect hustle.

In the car, I look over the CD, sure I just bought myself a blank for $5 (not a bad price to avoid a possible confrontation). I eject "Best of Leonard Cohen." I put in the CD and hear a nice track with catchy hook: "Do me a favor: pause for a little second... Do me a favor: pause for a little second..."

At home, after unloading groceries, I eject "Best of Bob Marley" from my home Harmon-Kardon and stream some "Do me a favor: pause for a little second" through a pair of Dali speakers. Sounds good: 4 unknown tracks for $5, I-Tune pricing...

Pittsburgh in its ordinary perfection: a hi-fidelity non-zero-scenario exchange between two random minds.

Do me a favor: pause for a little second! When track's over, hit replay: