For a variety of reasons I took a hiatus from writing over the course of this summer. Mostly to live life through more immediate “real life” avenues. Just ammo, innit? Anyway, there are no accidents and the springtime writings clearly have some themes in common. In addition, the writing clearly stopped when it did. Nothing worthwhile came out after. Perhaps we could then ascertain some wider significance from that set. What was my reason for writing them? I was clearly in the process of figuring something out. And perhaps I even did, considering I lost the drive to (and time, but that really is a poor excuse) write. Momentarily. So, what did I actually write about, on the pretence of writing about things that interest me? Let’s find out.
A major theme across the essays looks to be a form of exactitude that often appears as the “proper order of things”, as mentioned in the musings about the Notorious M.P.W. This theme, I have rediscovered, is intimately linked to the structure of my own mind and the patterns which it produces. Earlier this year, I once again became aware of what is perhaps the oldest character trait I know of myself, a tendency I have probably had since birth.
The story tells that I learned to speak around 10-11 months old. A bit interesting, but not that interesting, to anyone outside my immediate family. The relevant bit is that apparently I could not finish a sentence if I mispronounced a word. If I said the word wrong I’d get stuck repeating it, until I got it right, and then I could continue my sentence — and life, in relative peace. This sort of pattern seems to appear in my life constantly and at scales which are only partially in my scope of understanding. A generative frustration that, if anything. I have since discovered this quality of mind to be an asset for my character, but who knows where this kind of perfectionism takes a person. To an early grave? Perhaps, but unlikely. And certainly not needlessly. Guess we’ll know in two years.
And so we are naturally lead towards manners. Manners of operating. With different situations. In and around them. What have we. This I have tried to explore through hospitality. In writing and outside of it. And I suspect this particular exploration might be one of the reasons why I was ever drawn to the periphery of the hospitality industry to begin with. “Manners” as such, as human conduct, ain’t that far behind. Though, that is a subject I have been afforded the opportunity to discuss more through real life dialogue. Not that these discussions haven’t coloured the whole of this year’s corpus.
Pretty much the duration of these discussions has been under the influence, with food by yours truly, or made and served by those rather more skilled than myself. How fitting. How else could it even happen? What else is there, if I look at my life with honest jest.
The M.P.W. essay seems the crux of the series at large. Not that surprising, considering it is the longest and most conceptually torrential of the lot. The ‘Shuhari’ part being the particularly prominent, prophetic bit of it. I’ll entertain the possibility that the three syllables: Shu, Ha, Ri, will repeat themselves in writing. The first series being Shu, thus completed. A reminder that Shu is “adhere, protect, and obey”. Adhere to what? I don’t or haven’t had a particular teacher for writing, after all. If that could even make sense. Basically the adherence is to what I already knew, or have known. There is little to no personal touch there, and whatever has its appearance, is either unintentional, or coincidental. Perhaps that got exhausted in writing the book. Momentarily. The texts are written in an almost academic style, even if that style isn’t exactly a contemporary one. Even the personal anecdotes are rather descriptive. No attempt at any degree of vulnerability has been made at any point. And rightfully so, actually. The time and place for it just was not there. Cold honesty? Doubtlessly. Sincerity? Well… Time and a place for everything, and sincerity can be unbearably freeing. Momentarily. Blurting out truth possesses power in great measure. But we know what that comes with. Kids are great at it, of course, but should they really be concerned with the burdens of responsibility? Methinks not. Not in any serious capacity.
Which then brings us to the “inner child”. A part of our mind that seems to exist rather deep in our mind, and that most everyone seems to recognise on some level. As an idea, at least, if not as a felt experience of themselves. I’m not sure this concept has penetrated our collective consciousness so thoroughly, but so it has. As meaningful a concept it seems (and feels) to be right now, I’m not quite sure how fundamental it is. Or how long it has existed in the first place. My working hypothesis is that people have essentially willed that part of the mind into being, basically by believing that it exists. We are talking about a strictly invisible property of the mind, after all. And humans are afflicted and effected by all kinds of mimetic forces, mostly influenced by other people, and the contents of their minds. Quod erat et cetera. Perhaps the structure of modern life strips people of natural rhythms so violently that we functionally need to believe this kind of thoughtform to exist, as some kind of a scapegoat. Certainly considering it a separate part of the mind does not sound fruitful at all. Not that a fractionated mind is strictly a modern malaise, but it does appear to appear more in common parlance. Regardless, the “inner child” seems to exist now, whatever the reasons for its origins, and perhaps the compassionate thing to do is to recognise it at its own level.
Which leads us to the next syllable Ha, “open, rip, and burst”. Already flying, but on wings of wax that melt if you get too close to the sun. Shu is adherence to what has already existed, trying to justify and search for justification for why the done thing is what it is. Learning the alphabet, so to say. Ha signifies the process of breaking away. Justification wanes and ceases. Excessive justification is just a sign of insecurity, after all. There always comes a time for all forms (of work, of being, of anything) to start standing on their own two feet. Though the mind cannot stand on its own without proper alignment, which is ideally built in the first phase. Structure to allow for freedom. I’m not yet sure if spontaneity and sincerity are the same thing, but they seem to conjoin at the best of times.
The hunch then being that whatever this next series is about to be, it will be less focused on conceptual exploration, certainly in a justificatory sense, and more on just what I’m feeling at the time (Thanks, Tony). I’m less used this, but what are we here to do anyway? The former of these appears to be groundwork that’s already done, for this project at least. Of course, as with anything worth anything, ain’t nothing but the basics, but the approach towards them changes. Shu is about learning through perseverance, Ha is about learning through initiative, and Ri is about learning through…
…well, the fuck would I know? I’m nowhere near.
Time will tell what it will tell. Impatient as I might be, I’m not here to skip a beat. Jumping from the 10th floor is a rather different experience than walking down the stairs. Despite what I said about justifications, exploration is still the name of the game. The fruitful form of exchange is turning into something else though. This much is clear. The intent is as pure as I can manage at this moment. Big wheels turning. You know who you are.
For your health,
O.A.R.
Fantastic stuff. Glad you’ve picked up the pen again, mate.