Thursday, December 07, 2006

On Freedom and Drawers

I'm emptying my drawers before my (still uncertain) move in the beginning of next month. Throwing away few kilos of waste always makes me feel good, I forgot how much! The new sensation of lightness, freedom. Before leaving to Japan I got rid of so much stuff, I felt like I could fly. Apparently, I hate stuff. Clothes I'm not wearing, old school notes I'm never going to read again, all kinds of old newspapers and ads, all the things the routine of modern life forces on you, trying to fill you world with them. And once in a while you must protest against it, saying "to hell with it all. I can take off this moment and go anywhere I want. I refuse to be burdened down by things that have no real meaning in my life."
Another benefit of cleaning up your world is that you might reveal under the waste things that really do matter to you. For example, I stumbled upon a pack of music Cd's I forgot all about. Those few were the only ones I brought to Japan with me, having the others sent later. These I wanted with me at the start of my new life, and it wasn't because of the music, most of which I could keep on my comp or something. Most of these Cd's were gifts from my friends back home
for my last birthday before leaving. If there is something I'm ready to suffer the extra weight upon my suitcase and my existence for, it is the memories of people I love. Gifts are the only thing I never throw away, meaning that during one's life it is impossible, and perhaps, wrong, not to accumulate any burden, as long as you try to keep it a positive one.
Life is such a complicated dance. Like walking on a wire, you must always keep the right balance between so many things. Between being free and being involved, remembering and leaving behind, accepting and changing.
All the things I'm learning at this point in my life, from observing my own reactions to things and those of the people arround me, all of it only became possible after I threw away a very big part of my familiar reality. I know now I will never regret it.

Monday, December 04, 2006

The Floating Bridge of Dreams




















The title is the name of one of the chapters in the Genji Monogatari, Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu, one of the chapters associated with Uji town. Among the few, very few I might say, reasons I liked the idea of living so far from the center of Kyoto was Obaku's proximity to such a cultural land mark.


Uji, in the past a fashionable resort for the Kyoto nobles, is now famous mostly for its green tea, and of course, Lady Murasaki, who's statue overlooks the river.

The Uji chapters of Genji Minigatari are among the darkest in the book. It is the stage when the protagonist, and more importantly, the author reaches an age of buddhist disilusionment, and the colourful costumes of the Empirial Palace are replaced by the stormy sky over Uji River. Unsurprisingly, reading these chapters back home made me imagine Uji as a gloomy clouded place. But my few visits there were blessed by good weather, blossoms and, recently, momiji leaves.
Starting a cold winter morning in a cosy but fancy Uji restaurant with an extremely non Japanese breakfast of strawberry jam toast and cinnamon tea, I proceeded, along with my matcha crazed friend, to enjoy the leaves, and then shop for some tea ceremony artifacts.