"Bring me the two most precious things in the city,"
The Happy Prince－ Oscar Wilde
Prometheus took the fire from the heavens and gave it to humanity. For that, Zeus punished him. Both he and Jesus loved the human. In Greek mythology and in Jesus, the divine beings who gave their love to mankind were punished. The Happy Prince would be Wilde’s most Christian work, with the hope of converting him to Catholicism. Retarded on his way to Egypt, the swallow attempted to rest at the feet of the prince’s statue. Then the statue of the prince wept――.
The reason the swallow was 6 weeks after the others was because he was in love.
He asked her Shall I love you? She nodded yes. “Will you come away with me?” he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home. She was making out with the wind. The swallows said goodbye and went away.
Before his birth, the prince was beautiful like an angel. He was called the ” Happy Prince ” and became a statue. The prince, who did not know the outside of its walls, passed away happy.
When the prince found himself outside the walls, he despaired of the poverty and lowliness of the world. The prince asked the swallows to take to the poor the jewels and gold which decorated him.
At last, the prince had nothing left to give. The swallows were exhausted. The swallow finally kissed the prince and they both died. The prince’s body was melted, but for some reason his heart was not melted, so that he was discarded with the corpses of the swallows. God said, “Bring me the two most precious things in the city,” An angel picked the two souls and led them to the kingdom of heaven. In the picture books I read in my childhood, the love of swallows in the first half of the story and the Christianity of the last half were omitted.
The scene of poor people on a winter day reminds us of Andersen “the little match girl”, but the happy prince has a match-selling girl. The last person the swallows give the gold foil to is the matchgirl. Swallows are monogamous and raise their youngsters in couples. Swallows transport their food over 100 times, so this story makes ecological sense.
It is believed that the prince, who had never known outside the walls, died and never became an adult because he remained a prince, a title he held. Oscar Wilde also refers to children’s sacredness in his other book, The Selfish Giant. The giant had a lovely garden among its walls. With the giant gone, the children came to play. When the giants found them, they sent the children away. Then Spring stopped coming to the garden. The giants let the children in. This suggests a profound belief that children will go into the kingdom of heaven, as we have read in Matthew 18:3-5.
If you imagine a swallow flying around for the poor, the image recalls a street and a space. Time is a space, the analogy of Bergson appeared to indicate. Time is not linear, nor is it ephemeral. The flight of the swallows is repetitive, linear, planar. The swallows and the prince lived in an interior time different from the “exterior” time of the adults who had the prince who had lost his ornaments. Their kind-hearted deeds are different from the regular time. It is durée pure; They lived in the ambivalence of transmutation and preservation. How difficult and costly it is to love a human being. This is demonstrated by the description of the impoverished town and its inhabitants.
The prince was wealth itself. It was too big to share with the people. That’s why he needed the little swallows to get past a like needle hole. As it is more difficult for the wealthy to enter the kingdom of heaven than to go through the eye of a needle (Matthew 19:24), they begin their preparation for the narrow gate. (Luke 13:23,24) But the prince said to the swallows that misery was not a mystery. They will be carried by angels.
A most beautiful soul.
When the pure presence of the soul appears in the world of writing, a light comes into view.
It was as if, with the association of dawn in the mind, the beautiful sunrise revealed the presence of God. That the self-serving dialogue of the poor streets would fade into the distance；Our immersion rises into the kingdom of heaven.
When I was a little girl, I never wanted to be a stopped swallow；I wanted to be the swallow that ignored the prince and flew to warmer ground. But I realized what it meant to be a swallow that had nowhere else to fly but Sacred love．I thought of the Japanese words of prayer before Communion: Leaving you behind, who will I go to?
Oscar Wilde – The Happy Prince
Leaving you behind, who will I go to? Japanese Mass
my soul shall be healed English Mass
『Brief Lives: Oscar Wilde』by Richard Canning Hesperus Press Ltd.
ツバメが他のツバメよりも６週間も遅れたのは、ツバメは恋をしていたからだ。相手はReed（葦）でした。Shall I love you（君のことを好きになってもいいかい？）と始まった恋、彼女はうんと頷きました。一緒に遠くへ行かないか、というと彼女は首を横に振りました。風と浮気性の彼女、ツバメは彼女に別れを告げて旅立ちました。金の銅像の王子は生まれ変わる前は天使のような存在でした。塀の外を知らない王子は、幸福のまま死にました。彼は「幸福の王子」と呼ばれ、銅像になった。塀の外を知った王子は世の貧しさと卑しさに絶望していました。王子は貧しい人達に自分を飾り立てている宝石や金をツバメに運んでもらいました。
The name Kyogetu（me) was given to me after Kyoka Izumi. Kyoka was also based on (鏡花水月) The moon reflected in the water. With my baptismal name Chris nearby, I have a vision of Jesus within myself.
“To be a mirror of the world, but fictitious like a mirror“
When I heard that, my soul was filled with joy. I was a liar when I said it was platonic. I loved so many people I couldn’t go back there. So much time has passed that I can’t even think back.
Yashagaike’s main protagonist was “aware” that he had been part of the story. Ironic or not，
Pathetically, it came back to me as a silent, silent vision of the past.
It is no longer a lightning-quick love or a nurturing love.
That is the human compassion. A flash of inspiration, a feeling that quickly disappears again, that is remembrance. That love is not present in everyday life.
It is indescribable.
An illusion, I cherish an illusion.
The name Chris became aware of Christ. After my christening, the name Chris changed its meaning in my mind over and over again. Sometimes I wanted goodness, sometimes justice, sometimes love, sometimes righteousness.
It is an illusion, A human creation, a fiction which cannot be realized. At least that’s the belief of fantasy literature and poetry.
I believe in God all the time. There are no people who watch you more than God.
The day of the phantom.
This is my lovely pupil, “Nagi Tukika”.
I am giving the name “月” from my name “鏡月” ，Word of “花” from my name “鏡花水月” to my pupils.
My existence will be an illusion. Thank you for your continued support.
I was tormented not so much because I had stolen, but because I had damaged a beautiful moth. ”So that's who you are” Hermann Hesse "Schmetterlinge"（Das Nachtpfauenauge）
A specimen of a living thing, as a butterfly, is not a living entity, but remains essential. Specimens are available both as research material and as objects of taste. For Heinrich, it was a favorite hobby. For Heinrich, it was a favorite hobby. The story is so famous that it appears in Japanese textbooks, in a chapter of Hermann Hesse’s short story “Das Nachtpfauenauge” (Schmetterlinge) (1911). The guest in the first person “I” is Heinrich Mohr, and most of the story is about the man’s memories. The book consists of nine pieces of prose on the subject of butterflies and moths by Hermann Hesse, eleven poems and one post-scriptum by writer Volker Micheles.
Heinrich started collecting butterflies and was captivated by them when he was ten years old in his second year of collection. The mere sight of a butterfly was enough to send him into a state of ecstasy and he had no choice but to keep his collection in an old cardboard box. However, his friends put them in nice display cases for specimens, and he gradually ceased to show them to his friends and began to show them only to his sister.
He succeeds in catching the rare ‘Apatura metis’. He spreads the wings and completes the specimen in a ball box. He wants to show it to the neighboring boy, his is Emile. The boy was the son of a school teacher and lived in the neighbourhood. Although its specimens were few themselves, unlike Heinrich, the specimens of Emil were magnificent. And he had a high level of expertise in the production and restoration of specimens. Heinrich was jealous of him, but he was an admirer. Heinrich showed Emil the Apatura Metis and, in the beginning, praised them. However, he noted various shoddy management practices. Then he stopped showing them to Emil. Two years later, Emil was hearsay that he had picked up “Das Nachtpfauenauge”.
Heinrich learned through hearsay that he had collected “Das Nachtpfauenauge. It was the moth that Heinrich had been pining for. He went to the house next door and knocked, but there was no answer from Emil. He went into the room without permission to see the moth, and saw. Das Nachtpfauenauge” This moth was so beautiful that he forgot about it and stole it. He soon came to his senses and returned the moth to his room, but it had lost its form.
When Heinrich went back to Emile’s, he found Emile telling him someone had broken his Das Nachtpfauenauge. Wishing to have attempted to restore “Das Nachtpfauenauge” to the best of its ability, but in vain. Heinrich apologized, but Emil, did not forgive him or get angry,
He said ”So that’s who you are” and He despises.
Emil said the botched management of Heinrich’s butterflies seemed like the essence of who he was.
When Heinrich returned home, his mother was kind to him, but he crushed the butterfly and moth specimens he had collected with his fingers.
The specimens of butterflies and moths existed as essences, while they had a form, but in broken them, the essence and the phenomenon became confluents. A specimen is only significant when there is a form. Emile’s argument was essential. A Specimen of butterfly preserved only by feelings and passions was unworthy of existence. ” Must be beautiful,” Heinrich understands the meaning of the word. Because butterflies and moths are dead twice. The first death for the specimen, the second death for Heinrich’s ego, He couldn’t even keep the first death alive, which would have eroded his self-worth as a collector.
When an association of ideas takes up residence in the psyche in the form of a parasite, it becomes detached and isolated in the psyche when it grows up. Heinrich never collected any more butterflies.
If he hadn’t spoken to Emile before he broke Emile’s specimens and before he entered the house without permission？ the boy’s heart would have been purely in collecting butterflies.
It is impossible to come back to this passion. He won’t be able to go back.
The passion for butterflies and moths was one of the things which made Heinrich’s personality so beloved. But the personality of the beloved child always became sinful when Emil’s despised came to mind.
Where’s the broken butterflies now?
Leaving behind the touch of scales, the phenomenon beat wings and became Heinrich’s metaphysical form.
La vulnérabilité des choses précieuses est belle parce que la vulnérabilité est une marque d’existence.
Something of value is vulnerable and helpless, and it's beautiful. Because their weakness is a sign of their existence.
La Pesanteur et Grâce（Coincidences）
“The right way to write is to write like you’re translating…The right way to write is to write as though you were translating, without adding anything”, wrote Simone Weil in a letter to Gustave Dupont.
Just as there is always an idea in the world of writing, there is also an invisible beauty in the imagery that spreads out of writing. You must see what is unnecessary, even if it is painful，The evidence for existence is inside, the scraped remains.
However, it must seize one of God’s graces: the healing of time. This is a solitary task, but mixture of emotions there is a given. I did not think much of the fact that a certain monk asked for salvation from the Catholics before it was ordained. In her difficult circumstances, she first sought help from the church. So, in contrast to Catholic doctrine, it was rejected. After her ordination, the woman remained popular for her humorous vision of human Kleshas. An older man who respected her and was also a writer encouraged me to visit her. He said that she had written responses to a great deal of public criticism and that she would be tolerant and would accept. When I was there, I was told they would look at my manuscript, but since I was Catholic, they would not.
After the result, I kept asking myself wonder to oneself in the cold February air.
My soul crashed then, but day after day I became increasingly able to understand the situation in which I found myself in this difficult situation.
I wondered who had alienated her when the one she had asked for was not a man but a god.
Those who have not saved her in her time of need demand that the soul be reconciled.
In fact, as I did, a man in distress is in a very difficult situation, and the words that come out of his body are sometimes incoherent and You can’t judge what emerges from the body.
Can we open the door for one soul without being deceived by words and appearances?
It is not easy. People despair of being forsaken in a difficult situation because they think their soul has been forsaken. Last year the Catholic Church and the bishops helped me through a very difficult situation. If I look back, there was no benefit to them in accepting me then, but they did. When I think about what that means, I understand. I imagine myself in another parallel line, where I didn’t get the relief of being saved. Some will benefit from it and some will not.
A narrow gate, a door that rarely opens, a “crossing “.
It’s always in the fate. We would like to eliminate it as much as possible, but coincidences are created.
Always a series of “coincidences” becomes destiny.
We need the “theology of liberation” that originated in South American Catholicism.
Neither the clergy nor the laity should be the door which closes between a man in trouble and Jesus. In moments of distress, the soul makes its own record and Great reconciliation takes time for the soul.
This time is given by the Lord. The vaguely given time is inorganic, but the given time of God is sure. Knowing weakness and suffering the reconciliation of the soul, this is the time of God.
The image of a man, a thought that I, the other, cannot imagine from its trivial aspect，I think of words that I record time and thought. If I could understand every casual look, the light that comes through the window, the changing emotions, I would feel happy. So I realize what I think is beautiful and what it means to be born. I love everything I love. I hate it, but I love it.
Rilke’s “My darling”, Das ist mein Fenster, “This is my window”, starts with the inevitable awakening of her inner self and a look at the unconscious exterior. This is Eben bin ich so sanft erwacht… “I just woke up”, a gentle, relaxing moment, like a sprinkling of white powder.
“In the day-to-day life of a person like the window, “Bis wohin reicht mein Leben” (Where will my life reach?), and the eternity of the night and the universe, and the dream.
Ich könnte meinen, alleswäre noch Ich ringsum; (I feel that everything around me is still me), and thus loses the frontier between the interior and the exterior. Is both a bond and an obstacle to the outer world in this poem? She’s falling for him. and across the side world whereas his feelings and awareness of him as “objectivity from outside the window” But this is her reflection. Her existence is “inside” the window. Whether expectant or anxious, the waking ‘now’ is simply her being inside the open window.
I don’t know the details of the “I” relationship with that other person, but the fact that the other person is in my heart means that my beloved is not a quiet presence standing in the depths of my consciousness. My analysis of the poem is that it is a window on the outside world, without any intervention or controller (e.g. God) between ‘me’ and the ‘loved one’.
The original reality is the margin in which the poem ends. The world of empty margins, where nothing is written, exists for the poet independent of his own spirit, and when the poet enters into the spirit of a person, It means it changes the reader’s vison. If the window becomes special as of this day, it is a success.
It is beautiful to see the interior growth and the interior finesse.
I believe that a beautiful poem is beautiful, even in its borders.
That is my window. A moment ago
I woke up so softly.
I thought I would float.
To where does my life extend,
and where does the night begin?
I could think that everything
were still me all around;
translucent as a crystal’s
depths, darkened, dumb.
I could also contain the stars
inside me still; so large
does my heart appear to me; so gladly
it released him away again
whom I began perhaps to love,
perhaps began to hold.
Strange, as something never-described
my fate looks at me.
For what am I laid under this
fragrant as a meadow,
moved here and there,
calling out at the same time and afraid
that someone will hear the call,
and determined to find my downfall
R. M. Rilke
Die Liebende （ Rainer Maria Rilke ) 訳・Chris
Das ist mein Fenster. Ebenbin ich so sanft erwacht.
Ich dachte, ich würde schweben.
Bis wohin reicht mein Leben,und wo beginnt die Nacht?
Ich könnte meinen, alleswäre noch Ich ringsum;
durchsichtig wie eines Kristalles Tiefe, verdunkelt, stumm.
Ich könnte auch noch die Sterne fassen in mir, so groß
scheint mir mein Herz; so gerne ließ es ihn wieder los
den ich vielleicht zu lieben,vielleicht zu halten begann.
Fremd, wie niebeschrieben sieht mich mein Schicksal an.
Was bin ich unter diese Unendlichkeit gelegt,
duftend wie eine Wiese, hin und her bewegt,
rufend zugleich und bange, daß einer den Ruf vernimmt,
リルケの「愛する人」、Das ist mein Fenster「これは私の窓」という始まりは、自分の内部の目覚めと共に、意識出来ない外部への視線が必然となる。それはEben bin ich so sanft erwacht.「たった今、目覚めたばかり」と、白粉が舞うような、甘くてゆったりとした時間を感じさせます。「窓」のような人間の生活に関わっている日常を通して「Bis wohin reicht mein Leben」私の人生は何処へと届くのかと、到達しえない眼路の限界と、その限界を補うための夢想、「und wo beginnt die Nacht?」そして夜は何処から始まるのだろうと、更に夜と宇宙の無限、そして夢と誘います。
「私」はIch könnte meinen, alleswäre noch Ich ringsum;（私の周りぐるりと全てが未だ私のような気がする） と、それによって内と外との境界線を失います。
Welcher Lebendige, Sinnbegabte, liebt nicht vor allen Wundererscheinungen des verbreiteten Raums um ihn, das allerfreuliche Licht – mit seinen Farben, seinen Stralen und Wogen; seiner milden Allgegenwart, als weckender Tag.
Wie des Lebens innerste Seele athmet es der rastlosen Gestirne Riesenwelt, und schwimmt tanzend in seiner blauen Flut – athmet es der funkelnde, ewigruhende Stein, die sinnige, saugende Pflanze, und das wilde, brennende, vielgestaltete Thier – vor allen aber der herrliche Fremdling mit den sinnvollen Augen, dem schwebenden Gange, und den zartgeschlossenen, tonreichen Lippen.
My dear, I implore you, will not die. Blind affection, as it calls itself，If you die, your Vacancy will be at my side forever.
Osamu Dazai, The Defeat of Thought
Butterflies passing through the sea lie on the surface of the sea. And the wings, weighed by the water, fly away. Even if the little existence by the side of death disappeared, the ocean would only stir. The scent of the waves swallows you up, and Garcia Marquez compares the sea of dead bodies with the scent of roses. The smell of the tide is mixed with the smell of the rose and the perfume of the dream rose becomes thicker with the dark at sunset.
It falls asleep, the sun’s reverie.
Only the sound of the wave remains, and reverberation attempts. Nobody goes looking for the body of the butterfly.
Just the right amount of desperation, Debussy’s music called La Mer.
2018 was the centenary of Debussy’s death,
In the end, consciousness didn’t move a finger.
Psychology is the study of life and death, and the mechanism of mind has been proven and tested many times. Even what is natural to the mind is still at the research stage.
The research is released and then buried, In our epoch, Christianity was strong in its total affirmation of life. Doctrines existed as doctrines, the assumption that God’s love existed unchecked, and yet my heart was dry.
As for love, as far as human love is concerned, it is deduced in psychology through scores and circumstances. However, he may still be interested in me, he may still look at me sexually, but an inner love is unimpeded as faith. It was more certain that this supreme thing was God’s love than man’s ever-changing love.
Believe or not believe, the condition exists as a good response apart from consciousness.
Should I ask for the love of God to heal me, or the love of a man to heal me?
I couldn’t believe it either.
First of all, I couldn’t form words with my consciousness any more, if not in fragments.
Keeping it hidden, I kept quiet about how I couldn’t write my work anymore. In the middle of all this, I lied, thinking of my dried-up love.
I took a pill mid-way through the meeting，Another day I had to take a pill before I got to the hotel.
I paid extra for the water，The shell of the drug resembled this butterfly which was never searched. All secrets lie in my belly, devouring me alone.
There was an earthquake of magnitude 6 in June 2018. The earth quaked and I had no idea what had happened. I thought I could die, but I didn’t call the guy I was dating back then.
Because it would hurt me if he walked out on me，I avoided it because I was scared of the result. I should have said goodbye before.
Ugliness and malice exist in human love but love also includes believing. Love between human beings falls and becomes sinful, but the love of God goes beyond human understanding.
Human beings believe in protection，Human beings choose their own selves rather than the love of others, but God does not.
Psychology, philosophy, this unholy notion that without this ugliness, there would be no vitality in life. We are raised by fate, so we mix them together and, blushing through our enthusiasm, we are still precious today.
Each time I repeat a bit of despair, a smile fills my face and Little by little, we become increasingly convinced of our limitations.
――The angels come and mock us because we are not so happy in heaven.
Only today, 3 years later, did I read part of the suicide note. I was writing as if I didn’t hate anyone, when I really did. And the writing was terrible.
I can understand that my language was broken and that I could not write any more. It seems like I’ve been in a desperate situation, but I couldn’t write, not just today, I couldn’t write long ago.
It was in October, always warm and damp, the day of the International Mass. I was afraid of something, afraid of something, and hate spread from one form to another.
My friend cleaned the bloodstain and Adam the cat came. So I thought he was an angel. I remembered Lucifer that day, but he was missing. Adam had many blessings. Adam, why I need him forever brings me back to that day.
We often see people who have been victimized by others reveal their worst days when they succeed. People say” ” I took revenge on those who discriminated against me, I overcame the fact that I was oppressed” Well, people usually connect to their worst days and So we stay away from the best.
Quiet tames the bad days, but the best days are crushed by the bad days，Tranquility tames the worst days, but the best days are crushed by the worst days.
On this day in 2021, I did not dare choose any part of the Bible. I chose those words by Osamu Dazai, who says that if you die, I will miss the empty space. I was under the impression that his love for me was a divine word. Perhaps this is what I wanted to hear，But I couldn’t hear that.
I’ve been helped by so many people that I don’t know who thanks everyday.
I don’t know where I’m going since the most unwise day.
And that voice reading gave a beautiful voice to my long-lost world. It has been a long and thoughtful journey. I want to rest beside this beautiful voice now, so that the worst days are far away. I want to write something that will use that beautiful voice. The butterfly has awoken from sleep. I promised you a trip, and I’ll go someplace with you.
Readers and writers
To the poorest talent
2016 I called an ambulance for chest pains.
2017 I was constantly on stabilizers, anti-vertigo, and various medications.
2018 Words became choppy in my consciousness.
2021 Recovering on heart and liver medication.(Stop taking psychotropic medication and change to heart medication such as Vasolan )
It was Dazai Osamu who wrote this suicide note: “I can no longer write”
I had no awareness of the words, but I knew them.
It’s not that I couldn’t think about a story, it’s just that there was a time when my words went missing. I don’t mean whether it was a psychological problem or a side effect of the medicine，It took me a while to settle everything without it getting too heavy.
Even after my Catholic conversion, in some of the best days of my life but I got flash backs from that day.
For instance, when people succeed, they expose the worst days of their lives.
I declare that I am overcome.
In my best days, I can’t stop thinking back to my worst days. For me, in the past three years, there has not been one day that I have been able to really rejoice, except for Adam.
I want to reorganize my articles and, in a number of ways, reconstruct them.
Starting with him doing the readings.
I would like to thank everyone for their help. Thank you very much.
The poorest talent, from the gospel. ” Blessed are the poor in spirit”.
Should be a reflection of something purer.
André Paul Guillaume Gide
On 12 October 1654 an explosion in an explosive’s depot caused a large extent of casualties.
Many Dutch paintings were destroyed in the explosion, and this also damaged the workshop. One of the victims was Rembrandt’s pupil, Carel Fabritius, who was also killed in the accident. This captive bird is still alive today, even though it has lost its owner.
No doubt many people will agree that the “fate” of this painting is the reason for much of its re-evaluation.
Carel Fabritius was an Rembrandt student. His paintings have been influenced by Rembrandt. We can find Rembrandt’s influence in the way he painted light. Rembrandt’s early works show a wide range of colors, but he gradually developed a basis of brown and grey tones, with brighter colors used for the most illuminated objects. He also uses chiaroscuro, a compositional technique that clearly defines light and darkness.
Its influence is also felt by his pupil Fabritius. Overall, the work is completed in opacity, but the color contrast gives the wall a strong light. The walls are darkly shaded by the feeder and the birds as chiaroscuro, Tarnished natural yellows create a psychological effect of light and shade. What distinguishes this painting from that of Rembrandt, in addition to choosing the bird as a motif, This is using hard paint..Like Van Gogh and the impressionists.
The bird’s background is a flat wall, but we can imagine that what the bird is watching is daylight.
By avoiding all human symbols and imagery, the bird sees the purest things. The light is reflected in her eyes and the imagination is always there. This painting, dressed in “Amor Fati” is a bird who never knew the escape.
This bird lives for a long time and is not capable of flying high.
It was the movie “The goldfinch”(2019) that made this painting instantly famous of our time.
In order to explain the film, a boy and his mother visit a museum and find themselves caught in an explosion. While they escape, the boy steals the goldfinch which has survived. Inspired by the destiny of the original painting of real life, I watched this movie in 2021 with no previous information. The film was inspired by the destiny of the original painting of actual life，and I got a sense of déjà vu from the paintings used in the film.
Had a life of his own for a film accessory. Nothing symbolic at the time, but the color palette was classic. The bird understands the light and is free from superfluous insights. It’s too far from being allowed to exist as a painting, and I’ve seen it before. During the movie, I thought so much about this painting that I didn’t remember exactly what it was about. I didn’t remember exactly what they were talking about, However, the characters began to say that it was a Dutch painting. I looked through the catalogue on the shelf in the other room, thinking maybe I saw this painting once.
In 2012, I was still watching the painting.
I placed a sticky note in the catalogue of Mauritshuis’s exhibition.
The page was “The Goldfinch”. Many Dutch paintings were produced during the boom in microscopic observation, So these are essentially specific tables. Rembrandt’s “Canticum Simeonis” was extremely bright. And Vermeer’s “Het meisje met de parel” tour. I passed by smiling faces art, smiling faces art, and found ‘Goldfinch’ in still life.
It seemed like an incomplete picture. After the human smile, the innocence of the animal, the feathers reflecting the pure light, looked even brighter. In the midst of all these still life’s, observed as the curious mind desires, there is a single and foreign imperfection.
This bird looked at the sky, far beyond the scope of the microscope. This picture was not intended to be framed. Whether it was a piece of trompe l’oeil or a case cover, the purpose of this painting is unknown. In my opinion, the exhibition was not very good, except for the “The Gold finch” and the “Canticum Simeonis” by Rembrandt.
The sound of the birds’ footsteps and the sound of its chain appear to come from a silent painting. Never has this bird been overshadowed by the trials and temptations of fate.
Imperfection, captivity and flight – these three points can strike an agreement with the infirm.
First of all, the downside of not knowing somebody didn’t make it easy for me to talk about that bird. I didn’t have the background or the information to keep it to myself.
The bird hides in the blind spot of memory, but fate so loves him that he comes back alive.
The moment I opened the catalogue, the map of the museum and the advertisements of the museum at that time fell out of the book…Kind of reminded me of a bird wing flapping.
The way missing memories can be brought back to life is a reminder of the movement of time. Especially when it’s a sign of hope, That’s like a revelation of God.
Loved by fate, this trompe l’oeil, what is it that deceives? Even in the museum, this bird saw the light. A number of times, and through space, this bird sees the light,
I was ready to be deceived again, which made me feel like receiving the light.
And lastly, there's still a way to seek God in you. That is, there are ways of doing away with things that are limited. For if artists look for the face of the King in the soul of a tree, they will leave everything behind for the love of that face.
Nicolaus Cusanus－De quaerendo Deum 49
It would be easy to be misunderstood as an infantile mind when talking about Dazai Osamu’s ‘No longer human’, but as of 2021 Dazai Osamu is famous, but whether he ranks high or low alongside the great masters of the Showa period, （1926～1989）he is not even sure. What was his essence, after all, is still not settled. Seventy-six years after the war, here we are. I realized again that this is the allure of Dazai for me.
I hear Dazai’s collection sells well in the summer and it looks like it’s selling well now. There are those who say that his colloquial style lacks the intellectuality of the great writers. The fact that he wrote with such sensitivity about something so trivial may raise both religious and philosophical questions. His sensitivity is also characterized by the fact that his works are not full of metaphors and technical details, Instead, a series of words are used in everyday life.
I’ve grown up, the reason I mention Osamu Dazai again is that, as a Christian, I know and admire other authors whose ideals of love and life and death are quoted in Catholic newspapers, but even after two years of convalescence,I was unable to find a source of language as deep-rooted as theirs. I saw a lot of light and love, I decided that time was of the essence, considering my age and my illness.
When I said, “If I translate in English, I’ll address it to somebody who understands Dazai.” it was a declaration of my defeat and a sign of my resumption. However, I cannot write about Dazai Osamu in one article, So I will be writing about it in a number of articles.
“No longer human” and “Osamu Dazai”
The protagonist, Yozo, from childhood was a beautiful boy,It could not, however, be attributed to the contemplation of happiness and had doubts about it. Beyond its interior life, society considers it “fortunate”. The words are somewhat superficial and do not resonate with the protagonist. And as if the world around him were a Japanese honors student, he can’t find anyone who has the same problem as him. The protagonist wonders to the world if they “sleep well at night and are refreshed in the morning？”
Today, there are more and more jobs, and it is fashionable to do whatever we want, But at this time, working to eat was the norm.
Among them, the job of a writer may have been a divine revelation for a writer, even for a writer, but it was in the category of a hobby, an intellectual’s other love, a job he liked.
Yozo is not able to understand his neighbors, and his last seduction of human beings is the one of a clown. Even his parents don’t get itAs he grew, the smell of solitude attracted women.
Dazai Osamu was not baptized, but he was passionate about the Reading Bible. This is recorded in the diary of Tomie Yamazaki, with whom he committed suicide, and he also carried a Bible in his bag when he went to see his other mistress, Shizuko Ota, the source of “Shayō” , Dazai once asked Tomie what Bible quotations had made the greatest impression on her.
“No longer Human” is the posthumously written work of Osamu Dazai and is said to be a semi-autobiography written by Tomie while she was nursing Dazai.If you read Tomie’s journal, you will understand why women are attracted by the hero and why they follow Dazai.
Dazai said to Tomie, “Why not risk your life in Love?” She learns that Dazai is grieved by the Japanese who change after World War II, Tomie got married during the war because her family feared she was late, and her husband never went back to Manila in the Philippines. She ended up a widow. Back in the day, no one could comfort his loneliness.
In “Phosphorescence”, written on June 3rd, 1947, Dazai describes her love for Tomie and her invocation of her husband around a fictional flower, phosphorescence. The audience didn’t know where to go with her love of her husband who died in the war.
The Society has not forgiven Tomie, only Dazai, and he has accepted his love for her husband.
If he was a ” good husband” as they called him in those days, and protected the family,There wasn’t any help for Tomie,As far as she was concerned, only Dazai, a married man, understood.
Society won’t stand for it?
It’s not society. you’re the one who won’t stand for it-right?
No longer human
Japanese people are asked what their favorite part of this work is, the majority of them might quote this. Dazai’s words, “the society will not forgive you”, and the commonplace phrase,
“You’re the one that doesn’t forgive me.” he said, Focus on the personality.
The weakening of the ego through society resembles the ego of the woman of the time. The focus is on marriage rather than on love as a first step. Even when husbands are Killed in action, there is language for mistreating women.
Yasunari Kawabata and many other experts criticized him. As a result, Dazai’s life is a life of affirmation. Dazai lives by the women who affirm him. For example, he lives in his stories.
Yozo in “No longer human” is one of them.
The image of the woman in Japanese literature is less of a Christian woman. Even if unintentionally, a man’s monologue touching a woman is both a Bataillean “invasion of beauty” of women and, on the contrary, something like caging a small bird and loving it. Sensuality and feminine females live together in a familiar colloquial text. His image of women has neither the mature sexiness of the wife in Junichiro Tanizaki’s “The Key”, nor the refined elegance of Satoko in Yukio Mishima’s “Sea of Fertility”.
Dazai’s work is the most sober of all the Japanese writers’ portraits of women. In contrast to the reality of their emotional deaths, they are sober. Just the fact that their cheeks are stained with tender emotions, that they speak openly of death in the midst of a subject in which life and love are weighed in the balance, is another charm of the literature of Dazai’s later years.
It is impossible to express diversity in words. There is always a question of ethics when there is so much to interpret. Yet there is always no solution. Dazai is a clown of the society, he avoids to be confronted with the truth, but he writes with words that do not bind people. In him there is no doctrine of ” Love is what it should be “. They seem to have no core, “No longer human”.
God, I ask you, is non-resistance a sin?
Disqualified as a human being.
Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.
Jesus would be saddened by this decision, which could be called pruning. There is a story that God is the farmer and Jesus is the vine. (John 15) Pruning does not mean cutting down the unwanted, but it means that Jesus, the trunk, is also grieved, representing the ” support oneself “. After pruning the tree, it produces sap. It is compared to the weeping of Jesus.
“Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.
One pruned branch thought this way. Maybe it’s the voice of the protagonist and the literary artist.
It is not clear whether Osamu Dazai and Tomie Yamazaki were simply drowning in the Bible and extending it to romance.
It is not clear whether Osamu Dazai and Tomie Yamazaki were simply drowning in the Bible and extending it to romance. But as we get older, we realize that somewhere along the line, we reach a point where we can’t make it. Some people never notice the end of their life, whilst others feel it sooner.
Most people seem to be aware of it when they get cancer or when they are told that they have only a few days to live, but the awareness of death is particularly prevalent in Buddhism. If you were in a Buddhist school, the first message was that the “possibility of death begins already when you are born”
The lesson was not new discovery. because I had noticed it myself.
Most of us are vaguely aware of death, but most of us relegate it to the corner of our minds because we are afraid of it. If I were to read Osamu Dazai to a child, “Run, Meros” is well known, and we learn about his feelings in the author’s biography. At the time, a friend of mine once read Dazai’s biography and asked me “why he committed suicide?”.
What I answered in my childhood mind was: ” He simply accepted death”.
Naturally, it is scary to disappear from this world without notice on my own. There are some deaths that we accept, like the rest of our lives. So what about suicide, we rarely get to know the true feelings of the dead person. No matter how much is written down, we are always looking for facts that are not written in words. Even if it is written down, we cannot read it as it was written. I have always suspected that there is a dying spirit as well as a dying body. It doesn’t matter how much you write about your spiritual death, other people can’t see it. What happens when the mind becomes so tired that it forgets to seek help?
In fact, even now, 73 years after his death, no one knows what Dazai Osamu Real intention. No one can understand the feelings of a pruned branch. “No longer human” does not lie about “the society” He is without hypocrisy.
Some perhaps will deride me.
What do you mean by not having faith in human beings?
When did you come a Christian anyway?
For the writer, doesn’t loving ultimately to mean remaining a writer? If that is what the women he loved wanted, so be it. Moreover, their deaths would be anathema to Christianity in this work. Nevertheless, without the ability to look at the imperfections of people, neither religion nor literature would be possible. The man of the piece ends up in hospital, while the author dies with his mistress. Without the ability to look at the imperfections of human beings, neither religion nor literature would be possible. The reality that created their “acceptance of death” and the fact that they had to make such a choice in the life they were given.
We must not forget that Jesus wept over such a decision.
We must not forget. If God (love) does not weep
Who will weep?
Pruning should not be considered solely for the proper growth of the vine.
When I was a child, I made no mistake in accepting that ” He simply accepted death”. In fact, the ” acceptance of a painful fate ” comes to all of us at some time. Many times the mind gets tired and the heart feels dead. Yet, the mind may come back to life. The mind will accept death. Over and over again
Feeling for love or death rises and falls repeatedly. Behind the simple expression, I hope that the sound and the thought will reach somewhere with a deeper sound than at that time.
I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you.Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.”I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned.If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you.This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.”As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father’s commands and remain in his love.I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.
My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.
je suis la préférée de sa vie
I am his favourite part of life
L'histoire de ma vie n'existe pas. Ça n'existe pas. IL n'y a jamais de centre.
My life story doesn't exist, there is no such thing. There is no core to create a story.
Once the storm has passed, the last tense becomes beautiful. Love history is purified and unpleasant things disappear. Even the cruel and sorrowful parts vanish. Among them, the first love of a woman is most likely to fade away. Probably it is not even “forgotten”, as one would expect a form to be lying on the banks of a river, but it has disappeared as if it had never existed.I regret that I did not make a special note of the memory of the first love to writers, myself included. Duras’s “L’ amant” is his first love, but for a long time the protagonist is unaware of it. In my experience, men often remember the story of their first love. I don’t remember much, honestly. I don’t know when it was love, but then there’s a haze when I try to remember it.
I was dating a guy a few years ago and he asked me about my first love, but I have a semi-questioning narrative tone mixed with my English. I kept saying “maybe” as if it was not my experience. This usage is normally taboo in English-speaking countries. it’s strange to say “Maybe” when it’s your own memory. Nevertheless, when it comes to my memories, it’s “maybe”.
He remembered his first girlfriend so clearly. It seemed that just by listening to him, the woman would come to life. I could even see them kissing with the scent of aquanaut. I was watching the zoetrope-like afterimages he was showing me. His memories are untainted and in constant motion.
I said, ” good memory,” and he said, “Chris too?” I said, “Maybe”
When he kept asking me about the past, I said, “Is it such a big deal? I vividly remember the sound of my fork dropping on my plate. Up to this point, I had always smiled. But in the flow of words I recall, there is no smile. I guess this is my tone of voice now. The truth is that I was laughing and talking, but now I begin to feel sad.
On the metro train on the way home, I reflected on the beautiful afterimage of him. The ” Girlfriend ” he talks about loves him all the time, and it makes my own heart burn. It wasn’t jealousy, but perhaps a love for the way he remembered her. At this moment, I remembered “L’ Amant” written by Marguerite Duras. I felt defeated that she remembered her first love, with an overseas Chinese, which I suppose is a talent for a writer. The first time a woman is with someone, she probably doesn’t remember it. The “pure ego” is a difficult thing. Once a relationship has lost its way, its way of functioning, once it has been positioned as ” not to love “, it does not allow the conceptual manifestation of having loved to take place. I kept forgetting for the sake of the new guy. I had to forget as a break.
The characters in this novel world have no names. This man and woman seem to have expressed that they will not leave their names in history.
The girl’s family, tricked into poverty, lives in French Indochina. There she meets an older man, an overseas Chinese, with whom she has an affair. The man tells the girl that he loves her, even though he has been contracted to marry another woman. But the girl tells him that it was for money. After the wedding, the girl waits in the “common bedroom” for him to come again, but he never comes. Thanks to his “support money” she is able to return to her hometown and notices that his car is parked there.
She rests her elbows on the handrail, just as when she first met him.
When the girl realizes that she has loved an overseas Chinese, the scene on the ship enters the minds of many readers.
With the realization that “I have lost confidence that I did not love him”, She was on the ship, not with him. Chopin’s waltz No. 10 in B minor, OP69-2, played on the cruise ship, is the piece that led the protagonist to give up the piano, but it seems to have finally run its course for her.
It frustrates the performer to be unable to play the piano, even though there is a complete score. But in the world of writing, she has completed Chopin’s music. She has succeeded in making her readers listen. More than anyone else, more beautiful than any pianist, she has made Chopin heard.
The word “image” appears frequently in the book, and Duras uses it to describe all the glances and memories of her girlhood. In French, the word image can also mean a reproduction, an exact copy. The girl in the work is also a likeness of herself. In the film, a scene in which she puts her foot on the fence of a ship is very impressive.
Regardless of human sentimentality and the search for love, the Mekong River flows unchanged, passing trade and people. The water has no ego, no desire, it lives and it dies. The Mekong has always existed, without memory being able to contract eternity. As we grow old, we may forget. Remembrance, the ship, seldom departs. The ship is a symbol of substance. The girl’s elbows (or, in the film, her feet) on the fence of the boat are evidence of the reality of the image.
Why did Duras write about his memories as a teenager after all these years? Speculation and reader curiosity about why Duras wrote about his teenage memories after all these years became the wind in the girl’s hair.
She had succeeded in preserving her first love. Like the success of a long sea journey.
For the girl, God’s revelation was on the ships.
There is no scaffolding in the nature of immersion. Hiding from each other, a shady relationship was a world of disconnection between two people. We never introduced them to our friends, we never told our families. I was running down the stairs to the underground, avoiding the crowds, following the many open doors with wide eyes, when I heard a ring on my earpiece.
How happy I was to hear him say, “I had a great time”, and my feet moved away from the doors, as if to break away from the crowd. Leaning against the platform wall, my feet hot in my heels, and waited for his reply. ‘I’m worried about you, call me when you get home,” he said, so I got on the next train.
Pleasant memories become melancholic stories at the end of the relationship.
Like the girl who said, “I’m old at eighteen”
The first love I tried to tell him about was the tale of how I eventually became a woman. I wonder if there is a moment in a man’s life when becomes a man, I have never heard of it until now.
I had nothing to say except that I had become a woman.I couldn’t say, “I’d choke if I remembered the man “, and my hand slackened involuntarily and I dropped my fork.
That’s all I remember sometimes. Love between humans can hurt people to death .It gives and receives wounds, and when it is over, the tears are more for the good memories than for the sad ones.
Melancholy narratives are more than words, they are dreams.
Unbound by the confines of words, the heart is a dream that becomes an image.
I always dream that one day I will be able to tell a story that is only sad now, but that it was love. I keep dreaming about how a sad story can become love.