Gestalt

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about art, music, history, ideas, philosophy, zen, and the like. Almost a year ago I came upon the sudden realization that my focus was attenuated by my own distractions, resulting in poor work service and social skills among my friends and peers. Thankfully, I've been working on all that and things have been going swimmingly. You could even say people love me, even people who aren't my family or apart of my immediate friendship circle. I'm ready for the Orlando Fanclub LOL. 

In all seriousness, what I am truly talking about here is thinking processes on a metaphysical level. Gestalt actually. This is a German word for shape or form, and its the idea that systems and their properties should be viewed as a whole, not as loose collections of parts.

What really got me going with this was reading Heidegger's Being and Time, a book so immensely prolix that I'm not quite sure anybody who's read it quite understands it, or definitely doesn't understand all of it, but perhaps portions, or segments of it. Being and Time got me thinking about life metaphysically. What is life, what is being, what is time, what does it mean to be apart of the worldhood of the world? Etc. 

I've thought about these things as part of Heidegger's thought processes but that is too complicated to go into here [blog in the future incoming on that book], so rather I'll focus on what I think about these ideas. 

Life is the optimal persona [don't ask, its a California thing] of the soul, of a person, place, or thing. Being is the consciousness, so to speak, the thing that makes it a life plus everything else. This includes personality, physical, and mental traits of the person, and the way they make their thoughts process. Time is the standard measurement of life. To be apart of the worldhood of the world means to be a willing participant in the game of life, to want to be apart of social conventions. This includes work, friendship, family obligations, girlfriend, wife, kids, etc. Plato has different variations on these ideas, as does Heidegger.

My own thoughts on these ideas are simple, they're still valid still fair game. My thoughts on Being, or as Heidegger calls it, Dasein, has brought me to a new idea, a new way of thinking, thought processes. Basically, you don't have to think about your thoughts as being apart from each other. Rather, you can look at it as one entity. All your ideas could be thought of as one spontaneous act. Cycles of reality if you will. Your whole entire day could be thought of as one smooth motion rather than many different acts within 24 hours. That sort of thing. Frank Zappa had a word for this that I've since forgotten. But basically, he thought of all his recorded body of work, music, as one entity, rather than as individual albums or single inspirational moments. I'm thinking about daily ideas, activity, and thought processes in a similar way. 

This could also correlate to activities. You could do many things throughout the day with many different people, see a lot of places, do many things, and at the end of the day, you can look at it all as one activity, one single act of motion. 

I think about all this as cycles of reality, an idea I got ironically from a jazz song, from a modern jazz muso from New York, a drummer whose name I've forgotten. For me its a way of thinking in a more meta way, thoughts are more cohesive rather than random and disorganized. This isn't to say that all your ideas are related, rather when you think in this vast linear fashion, the worldhood of the world changes a bit, not it in itself, but rather the way you fit inside of it. It can come in handy sometimes when boredom is so ready at hand in the humdrum of everyday life. It connects everything together, you're more alert, so you don't look up and go, either in your mind or speaking to another person, "what?" 

What can I say? These Germans have me thinking metaphysically. 

Summer's [almost] gone

Summer's [almost] gone. We are in the midst of autumn. My favorite season of the four seasons, Vivaldi style. Obviously, I enjoy Fall because of my father and my own birthday, which just past on September 25th. But there are other reasons why I love Fall. 

Fall is the season of change. New beginnings. The same old humdrum routine feels different somehow even though I've already been here before, maybe even a thousand times, metaphorically speaking, of course. I'm working in a similar job that I've always worked at during Fall. The same old things remind me of old memories and experiences even though everything is slightly different. Variations on deja vu, if you will. 

I remember lots of things from Wisconsin and my last visit to Chicago two years ago. The leaves in the midwestern streets, thousands of them, littered all over, sometimes burnt in firepits, but most of the time just swept into the streets, for cars to pass them by, and shuffled into the air. The variations of colours on the leaves vary from bright, dark oranges, to reds, to browns, to dirty black. The crisp cold California air that comes in October and November. Skateboarding home from school in 70-degree temperatures to the Wisco house. 

The more I remember the more I think and ruminate on all of it. It's a work of beauty, majesterial. I'm older, different, but still slightly the same, the song remains the same. 

In terms of business its the beginning of the holiday season, which means sales, sales, sales. I've learned to control my spending habits and not waste money frivolously so I'm already much more prepared for the holidays than I was any other year of my life. The big difference here is that I'm not a consumer anymore. I just buy clothes and food. I don't need any more guitars or video games. I don't need much of anything. There comes a time when a man realizes that he should only buy what he needs. A 21st-century schizoid man has what he doesn't need.

Work reminds me of other past work experiences. Different people remind me of other people I've worked with. The young girls always remind me of other girls. The guys too. California retail is a blessing because I used to have a much harder time getting to and working at places in Wisconsin. But there's definitely an air of "I've been here a thousand times before," every time that I clock into work, every time I talk to a co-worker, every time I talk to a customer, the feeling that never goes away, during the Fall.

Perhaps this is just the worldhood of the world. Either way, summer's gone. C'est la vie. 

An ode to my twenties

I just turned thirty years old on September 25, 2019. It's been a great life, full of peace, and love, and happiness, as Hendrix used to say. I feel like all the time spent in my twenties went to good use. I've really come into my own as a person, a man, a brother, a son, an employee, a friend. Thirty is the beginning of the next phase of life where I'll strive for success. And keep up the good stuff. However, I can't overlook the great soul searching that took thirty years. 

First of all, living in California under the tutelage of my stepfather has changed me a lot as a person. For the better. I started reading a lot of books and it turned out that I love reading. As a result of reading a lot, I've turned to writing a lot as well. As a matter of fact, I've been writing this blog for the last six years, how long I've been living out here in Cali. Not only did I take up the reading habit but I've also learned to look inwards towards myself, and become more soft-spoken, and develop an interior life away from my friends, work, and family, leading me to become more confident and more assertive.

My attitude about life has improved a lot. Work doesn't seem like a chore anymore. Rather, it is an interactive experience where I get to interact with the being, worldhood, of the world, something I picked up from Heidegger, from his philosophical opus, Being and Time. I've developed a zenlike attitude in most things. "There is neither praise nor blamed attached." 

Dad: This is all psychological but the older you get, the faster time goes. This goes without being said. It's a feeling, a dasein, if you will, [also from Heidegger, dasein, is related to "being there", "presence"] The feeling somehow kicked into overdrive over the last two days of being thirty. I've come to maturity. Not within the last two days. But over the last ten years. The sense of knowing that you don't have time to do everything you want to do in your day. Therefore, you eliminate all the unnecessary activities in your day, and you only do the things that really matter to you. For me, this would include guitar playing, keyboard playing, jamming with my saxophone playing friend, reading, writing, working, and the occasional hangout. I've figured out that I have no time for gaming really. It's just unrealistic to fit gaming into 24 hours when there are so many other more important, worthy pursuits, such as music, reading, and writing. 

My advice for youngsters: Find what you love and focus on that. Eliminate all frivolous activity. Chill with friends and make as many friends as possible. But in the end, you might find out that your friends need you more than you need them. Find solace in solitude and seek/contemplate/ruminate on silence and inner being. Read what interests you to get you into reading, then start reading everything you can: including the Western canon, philosophy, fiction, nonfiction, history, music, art, etc. Learn as much as you can. Be more patient than everyone you know. Make every interaction a good experience. On all of your bad days remember that there is still peace and love in the universe no matter how bad you have it.

An ode to my twenties. 

The Pillow Book

In spring, the dawn — when the slowly paling mountain rim is tinged with red, and wisps of faintly crimson-purple cloud float in the sky.

The Pillow Book is a work of medieval Japanese literature from the Heian period, roughly 800-1200. Written by Sei Shonagon, a woman in the lower level court that served Empress Consort Teishi (定子). This isn't so much of a book per se, and definitely not a novel in the traditional sense, never mind the fact that the idea of a traditional novel didn't exist back then. However, her contemporary was Murasaki Shikibu, author of the famous Tale of Genji, a contemporary, woman serving in the court. Both of these works are studied in Japanese high school to this day. In fact, when Japanese study classical Japanese, it is the Heian period that they go to. 

The book is full of essays, lists, anecdotes, and personal thoughts. When I first started reading it I thought it was all over the place, and it really is. The Pillow Book reads like a conversation from Heian Japan. You get a sense of the character of Sei Shonagon, which is what Meredith McKinney focused on. She wanted to get the voice of the character done in a certain way, that is relatable some thousand years later. Did she get it right? I would say yes. Reading this book is somewhat of personal experience. I found myself smiling at things that were funny and likable, and likewise demurred when Sei said mean girl things. You feel like you are getting to know Sei and how she lives in Heian Japan, ultimately alien, foreign soil for me. Because of that, it is a true work of art, literature. 

In the McKinney translation, Sei comes across as personable but somewhat thorny. Basically, she isn't perfect. There's a mean girls vibe to some of the statements she makes but it doesn't dominate the text. But when you see it you do take notice. Were women really like that back then in Japan? Women are like that today! It's funny in a way how natural Sei comes across in the McKinney translation. Rather than translate the language in a dramatically different way, McKinney decided to change the voice of the character herself in her own inimitable way, that is personable, relatable. It's like listening to a Heian period woman, talks about her life, like a diary but better, much better because she comes across as likable and engaging rather than boring and nonstop. 

My favorite element of the Pillow Book is the anecdotes and stories. Stories of men who are clumsy with poetry, or retreat into hiding if they've walked in a woman's room. What festivals were like as the season changed. What it was like serving an Empress, whom you greatly loved and admired, despite you being of lesser rank, and never having the chance to be like her.  

If I were to compare the Tale of Genji [review here] to the Pillow Book, I would say the Pillow Book is breezy and personable, and that the Tale of Genji is more elusive and poetic. Both great works, vastly different. Sei has a way of explaining her world like a diary, that is in invaluable in respect to Japanese history. In short, its something of a masterpiece. 

"In autumn, the evening — the blazing sun has sunk very close to the mountain rim, and now even the crows, in threes and fours or twos and threes, hurrying to their roost, are a moving sight. Still more enchanting is the sight of a string of wild geese in the distant sky, very tiny. And oh how inexpressible, when the sun has sunk, to hear in the growing darkness the wind, and the song of autumn insects."

Equinox, in September

I had a good jam session today with the jazz duo. Here's my favorite recording from today's session, from September 17th. Trane's Equinox, with a lot of improv.
https://soundcloud.com/user-294063763/equinox

Orlando Figueroa, Guitar
Jason Thomas, Alto Saxophone 

Mr. P.C.

Our rendition of the standard, Mr. P.C., Coltrane's tune written for Paul Chambers, who played with him for years. The tune was on Giant Steps, played with a fast swing feel. It's a minor blues. Enjoy.
https://soundcloud.com/user-294063763/mr-pc-paul-chambers

Impressions

Here's our latest rendition of the John Coltrane staple, Impressions. Enjoy. 
https://soundcloud.com/orlando-figueroa-17/impressions-latest-version 

The Tale of Genji

The Tale of Genji is a Japanese masterpiece of literature [considered the first novel] from the Heian period, roughly (794-1185). Written by a woman named Murasaki Shikibu. She was born into a minor branch of the Fujiwara clan. Her father was a governor. Men wrote in Chinese. Women wrote and read in Japanese, which led to female writers of Japanese, highborn women. She started writing this novel, which is over a thousand pages after her husband died. Scholars tend to disagree on the writer. Some say it was the work of many authors, as says Royall Tyler, who's translation [only 300 pages] I read. Others say its solely Muraski's work. The actual story itself has a continuity that suggests there is only one writer, her. 

The original manuscript is gone. This brings up the issue of translation. Heian Japanese is so different from modern Japanese. Translating Heian Japanese into English is a daunting task unto itself. However, a literal translation of Genji is impossible. Not only that but each English translation of Genji is so remarkably different. Consider these renderings of the same sentence by different English translators. 

In Chapter 4, titled “Yugao,” Genji comes across a run-down house, the abode of a young woman he is about to seduce. Waley describes the entrance like this: “There was a wattled fence over which some ivy-like creeper spread its cool green leaves, and among the leaves were white flowers with petals half-unfolded like the lips of people smiling at their own thoughts.” Seidensticker: “A pleasantly green vine was climbing a board wall. The white flowers, he thought, had a rather self-satisfied look about them.” Tyler: “A bright green vine, its white flowers smiling to themselves, was clambering merrily over what looked like a board fence.” Washburn: “A pleasant-looking green vine was creeping luxuriantly up a horizontal trellis, which resembled a board fence. White flowers were blooming on the vine, looking extremely self-satisfied and apparently without a care in the world.” [newyorker] 

Each version is so different, yet say the same thing in their own inimitable way. It's remarkable. The act of translating itself is a science. One could write an entire treatise on the art of translating. It would be worth the read. Genji made me realize how important a good translation of a book is. Before that, I was in the dark about it.

What is The Tale of Genji about? A noble and his concubines. It's about the art of seduction. But even simpler I would say it's about relationships. A man and his relationships with women. In this society, the way to a woman's heart was through poems, delivered by a go-between, who was elegantly dressed, and of appropriate social standing.

Courtly lovers didn't see each other face to face often, certainly not naked. Women of the upper class sat behind screens, and sliding doors. Women were protected by screens even when they spoke with males in their own family. A guy could be driven wild if he saw a woman's sleeve spill out or the sound of silk rustling behind the screen.

But people still got it on. Nobles and their ladies were promiscuous. Affairs with court ladies and ladies in waiting were perks of an aristocrat's life. So was adultery sometimes. Genji, when he's still young, has an affair with his father's [the Emperor] mistress. And both father and son lust after a young girl, that Genji adopted as his daughter. 

The requirement of a gentleman was style. You could be forgiven for seducing a man's wife. But you had to know how to write good poetry, have good handwriting, and wear the right perfume. Despite the influence of Buddhism, Heian society was governed by style rather than virtue. Good looks meant everything, virtue be damned. 

The ideal man wasn't too much different from the ideal woman in Heian society: highly perfumed, smooth-skinned, moon-faced, extravagantly dressed. The decadence of the times led to what Genji called a time “where everything seems to be in a state of decline." A state of decadence.

All of this had a strong sense of hierarchy of course. Also, Heian politics was marriage politics.  

Three important takeaways from reading Tyler's translation of Genji. 

First, this book gave me my first real look at Japanese culture that wasn't from anime or movies. I understand Japanese culture and society a lot better than I did in the past, and am grateful for the experience of reading world literature. It opened up my mind to the literature of other cultures [non-western canon], and that is an amazing gift to oneself, and for anyone who cares to discuss the book with me or listen to me explain it.

Second, the idea of translation. Lost in translation is a big possibility here. But the fact that the first novel can be somewhat preserved and rendered into modern readable English from Heian Japanese is fascinating to me. How do they do it? It's like nuclear physics. The translations in English are all vastly different. The book is 1300 pages, and the version I read and bought is only 300 pages. Obviously, Tyler's version is heavily edited, abridged, and he took out many passages, but I still found the book to be thrilling. 

Third, the sense of style. The elegance of this book is vast. You don't need action and fast-paced fiction writing to create a sense of depth. As a writer, this is very liberating to see, read, and experience. In fact, I had to read this book very slowly because each page is annotated, there's more than one poem on every page, and if you don't read the footnotes at the bottom of the page, you don't quite understand the poems. However, when you realize that the poems aren't literal translations, and don't quite mean much to you, the reader, you realize that you should focus on the story itself, rather than trying to find meanings in the poems. Going through that was a tedious yet rewarding experience. 

I plan on going back through Tyler's version again. Because I was so impressed with it, I bought my own used copy. Definitely worth it. Although the book took me almost a week to read, it was a very fruitful experience. At the very least, now I know where Overwatch's Genji got his inspiration. Of course, the real, yet fictional Genji is so much cooler.