Ruth Ozeki and the Little Wave People

Just recently, I read Ruth Ozeki's A Tale for the Time Being, and loved it. It's sad overall, but is nevertheless filled with so many moments of such honesty and hope, that when I finished the book, I wasn't certain if I should be sad or happy (but happy definitely on the more subtle content end of the spectrum).  It's the feeling I hope to have, maybe, at the end of things?  A mix of important feelings neither good nor bad winning out--as complicated as saying good bye must be and feel.

Anyhoo, early on in the novel, the main character Nao Yasutani (a 16 year old girl set on committing suicide after filling her journal and telling the story of her Grandmother's life as a Buddhist nun) explains the meaning of "ronin".  Long ago, a ronin was a samurai whose master had died, and was then condemned (or freed?) to be a wandering sword for hire.  In modern day, it essentially means a loser kid who hasn't found a path and seems unlikely to.  Nao is a ronin.

But then she further breaks down the etymology of ronin in this way:

The way you write ronin is with the character for wave and the character for person, which is pretty much how I feel, like a little wave person, floating around on the stormy sea of life.

Wow.  I read that teensy paragraph and felt it down to my toes and had to take a break from the book for a day.  That's precisely how I feel right now. . . like a little wave person, floating around on the stormy sea of life.

I'm moments from not having my job of ten years any more.  I resigned, though it hardly felt like my choice.  Not that that's important.  What's important is that I am getting out and roaming free for a bit.  I am lucky to have a husband and a family that supports this.  And this is the right move for right now. But it nevertheless makes me feel small, maybe even wee.  And uncertain. . . deeply uncertain. It's scary and lovely and heartbreaking.

In the end, I bet it will be okay.

Later in Ozeki's novel, Nao's grandmother takes her to sea and has her go out and "fight the waves".  Nao thinks it's a bit silly, but does it anyway.  When she returns, tired, to her grandmother, this conversation happens:

"Maketa," I said, throwing myself down in the sand. "I lost. The ocean won."
She smiled. "Was it a good feeling?"
"Mm," I said.
"That's good," she said. "Have another rice ball?"

As simple as that.  When sad or lost, sometimes the cure is to recognize that there are forces so much larger than you that you couldn't possibly win against them.  It's important, I think, to try, but then when you lose, to enjoy the exhaustion of a fight well battled and acceptance of not being a winner without also being a loser.  Important stuff.

Read the book.  I think you'll like it.

On not taking yourself too seriously

My friends have super mixed opinions of Jimmy Fallon.  They either seem to like him a lot or don't think he's funny at all.  I wasn't a huge fan of his on SNL, because he could never keep from breaking during skits.  Before he joined the cast, the moments that the cast or guests broke were few and far between, and so when it happened it felt like a special gift, like you were seeing some rare joyous moment when even professionals couldn't keep it together.  Jimmy Fallon made that not a rarity.  It became a weekly occurrence, and I didn't like it.

But now that I'm older and Jimmy Fallon has moved on to Late Night and now the Tonight Show, I'm a huge fan.  I think the talk shows are a better fit for him--but mostly because it seems like those outlets allow him to be fully him.  He's a joyous dude and maybe he always broke on SNL because he's so filled with laughter.  Isn't that a nice thought?  I don't know him, obviously, but I adore his gleeful child-like approach to humor and entertainment.  It's as if his whole professional career is about not taking himself too seriously and convincing all of his guests to do the same.

He's a breath of fresh air.

And so here's his newest gift:




And how convenient for me that the song he picked for this week's Dressing Room Recording Session is Idina Menzel singing Oscar-winning Song "Let it Go"?

I'm trying to take myself less seriously.  I'm trying to take just about everything less seriously--except for loving people.  Opinions outside of myself shouldn't matter.  And my inner opinions should be gentler and more compassionate.

Let it go, people.  Let it go.