bingxiang/冰箱

「ビンシャン」と読みます。中国語で冷蔵庫のことです

Searching For The Sea 1

Searching For The Sea

Once, when I was still young and fool, I had thought that I could be free from any nation, any place I had been born in. I can't see why I had such a silly idea, but maybe I disliked the Japanese essence in me. Or I should say I hated my Japanese BLOOD which had built this character and taste. If I could be born in America or England, or if I had blonde hair and blue eyes, if I could speak English as fluent as native speakers, then... Yes, I wished that kind of vanity idea.

I am this self, and no one else as Oasis sings. Probably, this is a primal, eternal question or aporia we have to face. Why I am this person? After that silly period, I started reading some of philosophical books which tell me that I can't separate myself from this point of view. At least, I accept Descartes's or Wittgenstein's idea in that way. I might be a ghost, or a human being with a body. Anyway, whether I am real or not real, I am this one.

I am this one. This one has been made from the influence with a lot of people, or a lot of THINGS outside of me. For example, today I ate a Japanese meal Chikuzenni. It is now a part of me. Now I am listening to Blankey Jet City (a Japanese rock group). Their music also excites me a lot. It must be a good piece of influence/affection... Then, it is not strange that I am truly Japanese and therefore almost all of my idea will show various Japanese essence/taste. However, now I feel that it must be embarrassing (or simply too young), I denied my Japanese essence and even adored here were any other place.

Recently I read Kojin Karatani's book about Souseki Natsume. Karatani is a Japanese philosopher and Natsume is a Japanese novelist. Now, I am looking for the origin/root of me. How has this person been made into the one? Don't misunderstand this... I don't deny myself anymore (but I NEVER say I am always, absolutely right!). I can't explain this feeling, but maybe now is that kind of period for me. I want to look back at my past days, but it seems I can't write it as a simple story. I want to write as my memory will start murmuring.