When I turn back to look at the past, I think how much time has been wasted, how much of it has been lost misdirected efforts, mistakes, and idleness, in living in the wrong way; and, however I treasured life, how much I sinned against my heart and spirit – my heart bleeds now as I think of it. Life is a gift, life is happiness, each minute could be an eternity of bliss.
I am looking at the celestial sphere with eternal reverence, and I am thanking God for being born under the lucky stars and for sending me wonderful friends into my life. I am relieved and gratified that I am in Mexico; not in Japan. I am heading back to the apartment slowly and jovially with a full of grace in my heart. Far away from my own country, I become a human being again. I have finally started living my life to the fullest despite of fact that I should have started it for a long time ago.
It is very important for one to discover who he truly is and also vital for one to realize what his mission in his life is. In order to be awakening, one must introspect himself earnestly and should not be afraid of exposing his idiosyncrasies. Once he realizes who he truly is, he will know how different he is from others and how unique he is. And also he will know that he has the infinite power to follow his own destiny and will be overwhelmed with his possibility. He will stand alone like a shining star in heaven. Hesse impressively depicted the last shudder of Siddhartha’s awakening:
Siddhartha stood still and for a moment an icy chill stole over him. He shivered inwardly like a small animal, like a bird or a hare, when he realized how alone he was. He had been homeless for years and had not felt like this. Now he did feel it. Previously, when in deepest meditation, he was still his father’s son, he was a Brahmin of high standing, a religious man. Now he was only Siddhartha, the awakened; otherwise nothing else. He breathed in deeply and for a moment he shuddered. Nobody was so alone as he. He was no nobleman, belonging to any aristocracy, no artisan belonging to any guild and finding refuge in it, sharing its life and language. He was no Brahmin, sharing the life of the Brahmins, no ascetic belonging to the Samanas. Even the most secluded hermit in the woods was not one and alone; he also belonged to a class of people. Govinda had become a monk and thousands of monks were his brothers, wore the same gown, shared his beliefs and spoke his language. But he, Siddhartha, where did he belong? Whose life would be share? Whose language would he speak?
At that moment, when the world around him melted away, when he stood alone like a shining star in the heavens, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of icy despair, but he was more firmly himself than ever. That was the last shudder of his awakening, the last pains of birth. Immediately he moved on again and began to walk quickly and impatiently, no longer homewards, no longer to his father, no longer looking backwards.
I went to my favorite café, where I can be at peace without being disturbed.
Whenever I want to contemplate something important, I come here. As soon as I
ordered coffee, I ascended the stairs to the second floor and found a table in
front of a transparent window to sit on there pondering over their proposals.
It is so strange that Jorgito and Ramon have offered exactly the same proposal
on the same day. I am sure that it is not just a coincidence, but it is
something. Can it be the sign from the heaven, perhaps? Who knows? But
what am I going to do once I am in Mexico? Of course, I want to write my book
there, but I have still no idea what my book is going to be like and how to
begin. I did a little sketch, but it is nothing. Moreover, I can speak only
basic Spanish, which I have never seriously learned in my past adventures in
Mexico. Their proposal sounds wonderful to me though. I had focused on going
back to Vancouver exclusively, so I had been totally blind and had been unable
to see the possibility for writing my book in Mexico.
Think about frivolous Japanese, they are thoroughly aimless. Wherever they are, they always look at fucking mobile phones. Even in a train, idiots play online games, send unimportant messages like possessed, talk about trivial things aloud shamelessly on a mobile phone, etc. Where can I find such dolts except Japan? I want to know! Nowhere at all, sir! Their ignorance is beyond comprehension. In Japan nobody knows of Knut Hamsun! One day I made a pilgrimage to a bookshop to determine if his books were available. But alas, they did not have them, and, with a matter of fact tone, they informed me that his books were not translated into Japanese language. What a scandal! I was outraged, because Japanese bastards do not show any proper respect for the greatest writer whose books have influenced over many great writers in history. He had to deserve better. Instead of his wonderful books, the bookstore stacks a bunch of Japanese comic books! I see everywhere, even in a toilet I am sure, that over fifty-year old dolts are carrying weekly comic magazines under their arms! No wonder no Japanese knows of Hamsun and no wonder they worship money and technology steep down the wrong direction. If they try to read Last Joy, they might be back to human beings again and might be saved. I am so ashamed at the fact that his beautiful books are nil to my own country people. I do not want to be belonged to this ignorable race!
The following day, I went to the job interview. Tani san and Ishida san were my interviewers. Tani san was from the head-quarter office, and Ishida san would be my future boss. I vividly remember my first impression about my boss. He was as thin as a matchstick and had a face as long as a fiddle. And on top of it all, a queer aura was about him that only a virgin can possess. At the first glance, one thing was as transparent as dawn coming from east to me that he was the type of a guy who has been masturbating in all his life. He had a quality, you know, he definitely had a quality that only a virgin is able to produce. I was thinking to myself, “Dear me, I have to work under the thirty-years old virgin! What a disgrace!”
The interview was having at the main floor of the building where some chairs and tables were arranged. As soon as we greeted each other, they started explaining me what my future tasks would be. I was told that I would be working on the tenth floor of this building at where a British law firm was located. I would be assigned to work at a general office. The main task for me was that I would copy legal documents, sort mails, and help lawyers. “It’s a sort of job that one can do without brains. It’ll be convenient for me to take this trivial job, so that I’ll have enough energy to study after work,” I nodded to myself.