Mujou, Impermanence

Once, on the way home from a Japanese speaking workshop in Makati, R-senpai and I got into arguing about the types of anime we preferred. As a rule, I only watch one-season, mono-plot anime that revolve around the paranormal, and so R-senpai had to explain to me the perks of being a fan of 'slice of life'. There were many fine details I believe, to this day, I am better off not thinking about. For instance, Azumanga Daioh is considered 'slice of life' but Clannad is not. And so on.

Eventually we came to the term 'mono no aware'. R-senpai brought it up, and I didn't understand it then. The phrase slipped my list of things to Google until a few minutes earlier, when I became fascinated with why Kazuo Ishiguro says he doesn't write in the Japanese fashion despite how clearly - to me, at least - he thinks the Japanese way. The term 'mono no aware' is in his Wikipedia profile, here. To clarify, I've only read one book of Mr Ishiguro's, An Artist of the Floating World. But the 'mono no aware' is there, all right. The novel ends with its lead character merely, poignantly people-watching, after all.

In its simplest form, I think 'mono no aware' is a lot like the kanji I believe I've so carefully abused for this blog entry. Mujou, Impermanence. It is the reason someone always dies at the end of Japanese romance movies - to preserve the purity of a relationship that is only bound to be contaminated the longer it lasts. It is the reason the hanami, a festival for watching cherry blossoms fall, exists - there is beauty in the fleeting nature of things, or are things beautiful because they do not last forever? On a more contemporary context, it might be the reason AKB48 and Morning Musume members graduate - youth is a treasured, prized commodity. When you go past the age deemed appropriate for your task of entertaining people, you are requested to politely resign. And you humbly accept.

I sincerely enjoy the open-ended nature of Japanese literature. I adore Ogawa Yuko, and I appreciate Banana Yoshimoto, even though half the time I'm not sure I've really come to the ends of their novels. There are subtle climaxes and even subtler endings in Japanese stories told the Japanese way. Characters simply come to the conclusion that their lives will continue as they always have. Sometimes they find comfort or renewed optimism in that, sometimes they become bitter of the routine they will have to undergo until the day they die. That shared conclusion is distinctly Japanese.

I actually considered starting this ramble with a line from one of my comfort songs, I Know Him So Well. In the Lea Salonga version, my favorite one, Ms Lea warbles:

Nothing is so good it lasts eternally.

I had been thinking about making this the title of this strange, half-conscious reflection. But then I realized that if we continue to think in the way of the 'mono no aware', life isn't supposed to unravel that way. Nothing is good if it lasts forever. Supposedly.

Photo Credit: KisaragiChiyo on Deviantart.com