Her wittiness came across clearly even after the translation from Classical Japanese, and I found it somewhat hard to believe that the lady who wrote this lived a millennium ago. A THOUSAND YEARS. It spoke so loud and clearly to me, and the picture she painted of the royal court seemed so vivid, like I have just finished watching an episode of a historical drama. I never thought it possible that I would so thoroughly enjoy reading classic literature of any kind. But I did. I will never again restrict myself to reading only modern, non-horror, preferably with an ounce of romance novels.
Part of what I really liked about The Pillow Book was how lists accounted for a huge chunk of it. I found the lists, which may seem mundane to many, perhaps even out of place, beautiful. Sei Shonagon writes with delightful frankness and rancor which one does not expect of a lady living in a society where women were expected to be neither seen nor heard. Examples of her lists:
Things That Cannot Be Compared
Summer and winter. Night and day. Rain and sunshine. Youth and age. A person’s laughter and his anger. Black and white. Love and hatred. The little indigo plant and the great philodendron. Rain and mist.When one has stopped loving somebody, one feels that he has become someone else, even though he is still the same person.In a garden full of evergreens the crows are all asleep. Then, towards the middle of the night, the crows in one of the trees suddenly wake up in a great flurry and start flapping about. Their unrest spreads to the other trees, and soon all the birds have been startled from their sleep and are cawing in alarm. How different from the same crows in daytime!
Rare Things
A son-in-law who is praised by his adoptive father; a young bride who is loved by her mother-in-law. A silver tweezer that is good at plucking out the hair.A servant who does not speak badly about his master. A person who is in no way eccentric or imperfect, who is superior in both mind and body, and who remains flawless all his life.People who live together and still manage to behave with reserve towards each other. However much these people may try to hide their weaknesses, they usually fail. To avoid getting ink stains on the notebook into which one is copying stories, poems, or the like. If it is a very fine notebook, one takes the greatest care not to make a blot; yet somehow one never, seems to succeed.When people, whether they be men or women or priests, have promised each other eternal friendship, itis rare for them to stay on good terms until the end.A servant who is pleasant to his master.One has give some silk to the fuller and, when he sends it back, it is so beautiful that one cries out in admiration.You should definitely check out her work if you enjoyed the above, like I did. Isn't it also amazing how a thousand years later, much of what were on her lists are still relevant?
So onward to what I want to write about: being away from home and loving it. I always find it hard to explain how it is not true to people who ask me how long I have been away from home. They almost always go on to assume that it must be really difficult to far from home and family, and that being away takes a huge emotional toll on me. It may be the case for some, but it is not the case for me. I am not some robot who cannot feel emotions, nor am I someone who does not miss my family. Most days I think about them for a moment or two- my parents, siblings, grandparents and more. People who are the main reason why I call Singapore home.
Yet at the same time, I enjoy being independent and living by myself abroad.
Things I Love about being away from Home
Absorbing the culture of a new place like how a dry sponge absorbs water. Meeting new people. Exploring the nooks and crannies of a neighbourhood. Learning the local slang. Pushing myself out of my comfort zone (such as having to eat alone) and discovering bits and pieces of me I never knew I had. Missing home.
I don't see why this has to be in conflict with missing home. This is how I feel:
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| Jeju-do, May 2014, Seopijikoji. |
It basically translates to 'There are no faraway places under the sky; home can be anywhere on earth.' English does a poor job of capturing the magical essence of the sentence. Or perhaps it's just my lousy translation. The point I want to make is: I feel home no matter where I am once I am given some time (2 weeks or so) to settle into a routine. This has been the case in all of the places I've lived in (I define it as in a same place for more than 1.5 months, not for the sake of travelling).
I am very thankful and also relishing it while it lasts because there is never a better time than now to be away from home:
- I have no commitments other than to myself (no job, boyfriend/husband, children).
- My parents are healthy to be living without me by their sides.
- My grandparents are all thankfully, still healthy and living with other members of the family.
- Technology keeps me connected- home is never more than a Facetime session or a Whatsapp message away.
I wake up counting my blessings everyday, because I believe happiness does not come from having the best things. It comes from making the best of things.
Now I can finally rest after writing all these random thoughts down. Goodnight.
