Inside on the Outside: Part I

If you could magically give time wings, how fast would it fly? Its funny how the answer to that question depends totally on perspective, on who you ask and what particular set of tangled emotions that person happens to be going through at that moment. I have been in this country for just over ten months, which in a lifespan is insignificant, but from a day-to-day outlook is a noteworthy chunk of time. And yet, it has literally sped by so fast that I have barely had time to catch my breath. Like we have a saying that time flies, the Japanese liken time to an arrow, piercing the air at an amazing rate to some unknown destination. I will not deny the fact that some days and perhaps weeks and months have indeed become monotonous, almost indistinguishable from one another. But nonetheless, it is an experience I will be unlikely to forget. And yet, I wonder how such a thing can change a person? Take for instance growing through childhood. You do not really notice it, do you? Day by day, year by year, your mind and body matures, gradually expanding, taking on new tasks and responsibilities, and yet your awareness of this process makes it seem changeless. Precisely because it is so natural is it difficult to gauge the changes. But, people you see only once in a great while will tell you how you have gotten so much bigger, how you have gained or lost weight, and sooner or later these comments will lead to them reflecting on how fast time is moving. And yet, for you, it’s all the same. You are you, no matter how others may insist on you having changed. Or, for instance, a friend of yours or your family has a child and you see this child once every couple of years. Each time, you will be amazed at the changes, especially if this process starts from that child’s birth. Five, ten years go by, and that child only enters your consciousness when you see him or her, and before you know it, the child is a grown adult, fully capable of doing all those things that you can, whereas in your mind you can still see the diaper and the joys of looking at a baby. You try to convey that idea to this adult, about how much he/she has changed, how the time has just disappeared somewhere, and they will look at you with sympathy, but without the least trace of empathy. I think the point here is that it is highly difficult for us to track change within ourselves, because we carry with us, always, the same criteria upon which to judge. You look in the mirror everyday, but because your body ages along with your mind as well as your consciousness, what you see is the same. Oh, sure, you may notice a wrinkle here or a balding patch there and briefly brood over the aging process, but I am not talking about those kinds of changes. I am talking about root personality traits and components. Returning briefly to the childhood imagery, during those early years of development is when so many things are solidified and made concrete. If, for instance, you do not get over your dislike of mushrooms as a kid, it is highly unlikely that you will do so as an adult, and so on and so forth, except at increasingly more complex levels, well beyond a simple like or dislike of food. If you don’t learn how to properly socialize with others, your adult life will be marred by these failings and shortcomings. If your first serious relationships are beset by problems, it is a likely indication that your subsequent ones will be similar. And on and on in that vein. At some point, we are formed, developed, and ready or not, shoved into a world that heaps responsibilities or at least expectations on us and leaves us be with whatever it is we got. And we begin the struggle, or more precisely, we are able to, for the first time, to become aware of the struggle that has been going on since the earliest conscious moments – the struggle to achieve something great, which for most people lies within the confines of their pursuit of personal happiness. This way and that, we fight, we commiserate, we act, and we cower, and in the end, the sun keeps rising and setting, taking with it that speeding arrow of time. How do we even begin to gauge the constant vacillations, the endless cycle between the pits of despair and the epiphanies of joy? Can we ascribe causality to it, honestly? Of course, we try very, very hard and the result is certain conclusions. “This” is something that will lead to that peak, that will propel us to that end of happiness. And so we use that “this” to make all sorts of decisions, whether conscious or not, whether small (what should I have to eat) or big (should I go on this career path or marry this person), and we wind our way through the forest of life. And so, somehow or other, through a complex web of causality, I have ended up on the other side of world, on the island of Japan, where time does not stop.

Imagine spending twenty years inside a house. It is a very large house and it has almost all imaginable amenities and facilities. After a while you become used to it, it becomes second-nature, and you pursue the aforementioned within its confines. That environment molds you to a tremendous degree and the possibilities of action and thought are restricted to the sights, smells, and textures of that house. You are house-man and if you are asked to talk a little about yourself, to describe your personality or your dreams and aspirations, in one way or other, anything you say will somehow come back around to this house. It is inescapable. And all is jolly good until one day you begin to experience the slightest gnawing sensation, somewhere deep in your bosom, that something is not right, that something is lacking here. A pit begins to form that slowly, yet persistently, makes you ask yourself weird questions, not the least insignificant of which is, is there something more to what you have habitually been referring to as life, is there something greater that this house? Sometimes it goes away, and you go on with your habits, temporarily forgetting about that new nuisance. But, at others, it comes back so strong you do not know what to do with yourself. A number of years passes, and lo and behold, you have found yourself having accepted this nuisance as just another part of life. You have learned to live with it, like people learn to live with baldness or some other icky physical characteristic. It still asks the same questions but you have discovered the magical answer that calms it down anytime it starts acting up, more specifically, the undeniable attraction of the limitless possibilities of tomorrow. There is always a tomorrow, and it is always filled with the potential that today can never even hope to achieve. And so, tomorrow, the much sought answers will come, but for today, you will go on as always, as this house has trained you to be. You will be under the impression that you have conquered many things, that you are living a worthwhile life, but somewhere underneath the radar of your consciousness, that small pit will have grown into a heaving, bubbling heap of dissatisfaction that one day will burst, propelling you above and beyond anything previously experienced. One day, you will go outside. So ask yourself, what happens to you, having been in this house for so long, once you are outside? What kinds of changes do you expect? Oh sure, everything looks new, but what is the one element that is not? Does being outside really provide that answer you’ve been looking for?

I have been away for ten months. As I have mentioned, I cannot track changes within myself very well and perhaps this period of time is really too little for anything to have taken place at all. But I will come back in a couple of months and hopefully be subject to some sort of evaluation on the part of others. I am hoping that I will be able to see, through this reflection of other people, myself under a different light. For it will be, after all, like seeing that child again after a long absence. Of course, it is far different than observing a simple change in size, but nevertheless, a long separation has given me many, many opportunities, which may have made a significant impact on me. Being outside is something all should try, for the biggest hopes and dreams could be accomplished here.

Is it all a lie? A trick of the mind? Most likely. Again, this particular piece has caught me in the midst of a certain disposition of emotions, which contributed to the words you see before you. Had I written it yesterday or tomorrow, it may have come out radically different. But it is a snapshot, a stop motion capture of inside on the outside and that is all really that we can hope to achieve with words. In the meantime, the arrow keeps flying, and we watch it, occasionally wondering where it is going, but mostly just taking its flight for granted. May it reach its destination safely.