Perfecting the art of the living contradiction.

Monday, April 28, 2025

How it comes together

Recently, I re-watched Miyazaki's The Boy and the Heron, with my sister's family. Besides how visually beautiful it is, I was struck by how much its themes mirrored ideas I’ve encountered in other books, movies and songs I’ve been thinking about recently — such as Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, Camus, Leonard Cohen’s Boogie Street, as well as the movie Perfect Days which I saw last year and need to rewatch.

Particularly, I was struck by how all of these pieces of art transcend the ingrained pop culture narrative that there is some pinnacle, some escape, or some final destination to the suffering and confusion that are inherent in life. At the most banal level, pop culture often portrays this “pinnacle” as the happily-ever-after marriage, or career, or some kind of station in life. But it goes deeper than that: it also includes the search for transcendence — for some kind of perfection — whether through intellectual, artistic, spiritual or religious pursuit.

This kind of escapism and the tendency toward some imagined perfect realm of beauty, harmony and understanding is something I am particularly prone to. 

By contrast, the movies, books, and songs I’m reflecting on here provide a very refreshing and much more holistic alternative, one that embraces life as it is rather than trying to transcend it. I want to explain my interpretation of this perspective a little bit more below.

Miyazaki, Cohen, Camus, Dostoevsky, and the film Perfect Days, portray the world as inherently imperfect, wounded by suffering, absurdity, and incompletion. Yet, each in their respective ways, refuses despair, and suggests instead that meaning can be created through conscious, courageous engagement with what is real: by working, creating, caring, and loving the world despite — or even because of — its brokenness. In fact, it's more than engagement, it is the conscious choice of reality over the idea of perfection that provides meaning.

In The Boy and the Heron, the boy chose to return to the real world and contribute his little piece to it - the only thing he can actually control - over the possibility of remaining in the perfect tower of illusion that his uncle devoted his life to creating. In this view, purpose and meaning are not final destinations to be defined or arrived at once and for all; the boy has no clear cut answer or path laid out in front of him even after everything he's learned and been through.

Rather, it is the continuous process of questioning, negotiating, refining, and ultimately consciously choosing to live in full recognition of the suffering and malice inherent in life, while doing one's best, that is in an oblique way the answer to the question "How to live?".

(Picture is from my recent trip to NYC during April vacation).

Peace

Friday, April 18, 2025

Day in NYC: off script and playful

Today I’m taking a day trip to NYC, and I’m doing a little experiment.

I want to approach the day with the spirit and inclination of two things that have touched me recently: the movie Amélie and the philosopher Deleuze.

What I carry with me from both is the sense of life as a confluence of forces and processes, all in constant flux—coming together to create specific events at specific points in time. Nothing hard or fixed, including ourselves; everything moving, unfolding, becoming.

So instead of bringing along fixed plans, expectations, or judgments; instead of running away from things looking for a sort of fix for the problems in my life, I’m feeling today a bit differently, more playfull and light. It's a beautiful, sunny day, with flowers and spring, and many beautiful little things all around.

We all carry a lot, and I wish you peace and light on your journey!

I'll leave you with this quote from Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov, which feels like a beautiful invitation today:

"Love the whole world, every leaf, every ray of God’s light. Love animals, love plants, love everything.”
Peace