New anime, The Concord Review and Shaman King

[tarigwaemir]

Lowell House, on the Feast of All Saints

I've put off updating LJ lately, which is odd because I usually love to blab about myself. I think it's because lately the days have seemed so long (this morning feels like yesterday; yesterday night like last week) that to recount them seems to be a herculean task. Thomas Mann points out in The Magic Mountain that in actuality time travels slowly not when we are bored but when we are busy. Furthermore, regularity allows the days to blur into one another until all days are indistinguishably the same day, and one begins to count the passage of time in weeks, months, even years. I'm still not sure if the "rarefied air" of the resort is a catalyst or even a crucible for genuine art or a secret, rank corruption that leads to unhealthy stagnation--knowing Mann, probably both. That reminds me, I should really finish The Magic Mountain soon since I'm just at one of the first major turning point in Castorp's evolution. Anyway, my point being--my life is hectic, and not only is it full but each day is different with new circumstances and obstacles to be accounted for. Thus, I live as if each hour were a day, and time passes like molasses. Definitely a world apart from high school. And I have to admit, I feel as if no moment goes by wasted--each second of the day is lived, even if lived unhappily. I may feel incredible pressure, but I pass the days in a sort of tired but hyperalert state where the daffodil-yellow and burnt orange fall leaves seem to press on my eyelids like bonfires--to have lived each day seems a major achievement, surmounting yet another Olympus.

Before I babble myself into bad poetry, some observations:

1. I met a friend of L.P.'s last year on the shuttle back to New York, who turned out to be an anime fan. Later, he ended up taking the same chemistry classes, and somehow, we ended up having an AIM conversation about anime around midnight. (The best type of conversation to have, of course.) Upon hearing that I've never watched Evangelion, he offered to lend me the whole series...and voilà, by the next day (through the courier services of one of my blockmates), I came into possession of Evangelion episodes 1-26 (plus the ending movie). Have I mentioned that I love meeting fellow anime fans at Harvard? Especially people who seem relatively normal (well, you know, not rabid fans or incredibly obsessed like the people you would find at cons) but turn out to have watched more anime than you have. ^_^ It's really cool, particularly if you get to borrow stuff. Anyway, now I have to hold off on temptation and wait until Thanksgiving break. ::sighs:: We still have to watch Saiyuki too.

2. Last Wednesday, I went to a dinner meeting of The Concord Review Society at the Faculty Club. The Concord Review is a journal that publishes history papers written by high school students. I was fortunate enough to have two of my papers accepted. The TCR Society is pretty much the network of all the "alumni" writers, so I got to meet fellow Harvard students who had been published in the journal before as well as Will Fitzhugh, the man who came up with the idea behind the journal and is a crusader for education reform. I've never met Mr. Fitzhugh in person before, and being the usual timid me, I barely spoke a word during the dinner. But in the midst of a debate about raising standards for education (something that I do fervently believe in), someone raised a point about poverty and disadvantaged students, and I inwardly became a little annoyed that these rich girls and boys, who went to Andover and Horace Mann and probably never had to watch their parents worry about the monthly rent in their lives, were so casually talking about a situation that they knew nothing about. Of course, my family isn't destitute, and I suppose we still do make middle-class, but I know what tax bracket my family falls in. I wrote a rather passionate email expounding my views on the matter, and Mr. Fitzhugh became excited and forwarded my email about to the Board of Directors. I'm flattered of course, but now I feel vaguely guilty because while I'll write and speak my heart out on education reform (it really is something that bothers me a lot), I don't really plan to take any action about it. >_> I feel even more guilty because a part of me asks me, "why not?" although I really can't imagine sacrificing my plans for a life in academia to be a teacher or even an administrator and actually, well, do something about it.

3. I've been reading Shaman King (and listening to tokyofish's FST--I love the Within Temptation songs, by the way), and I really do adore it. Yoh is destined to be Shaman King not by his furyoku (which is not inconsiderable) or his intuition, but his "lack of self" (strangely enough, what we're told in kendo frequently). I suppose one could be cynical about it, but personally, I find it tremendously inspiring; it is, in many ways, my version of the Christian ideal (which is, hah, rather ironic). What strikes me in particular is the generosity of Yoh's spirit. By generosity, I don't mean simply someone who shares their wealth or talents, but someone who gives freely and happily without expecting anything in return. I was discussing with my roommate the other day how we, especially in a Western background, expect to see returns (the context was grades and schoolwork, of course) for our efforts and how the idea of not seeking gratification was nearly an unintelligible concept. I tried to explain how fulfillment should not be found in the goal achieved but in the path taken (in defense, of course, of why we should thus pursue the unachievable goal), and she replied, "Yes, that's very Chinese--persist without complaining." She understood my meaning of course, but her reply is still what anyone else would say: there is this idea that to give without receiving must necessarily cause suffering. I argue that the ideal is to do so without feeling as if one is suffering--generosity is to give willingly, not out of forced obligation or duty. Obviously not a radical concept, but it's something that's difficult to argue particularly in the established framework of assumptions in modern Western thought. I think there's this lingering notion of justifying morality as enlightened self-interest as well as the belief that true unselfishness being nonexistent must thus not be worth pursuing that inhibits communicating in my different, more idealistic vein, but before I mire myself more deeply in words...what I wanted to say is that Yoh in many ways embodies this idea of generosity. My mother thinks that this generosity of spirit is the greatest of all Confucian virtues and the real source of what makes us humane beings (the "e" is intentional). She often tells me that to be a real "person" I must learn to have a generous mind, and I think that's why I like Shaman King because in the end it defines personal strength by the same criterion.

I was going to note down some more observations, but seeing as how I got so easily carried away...I think I should just go to sleep now. Next time: why I like Bleach and the movie we watched for Halloween! ^_^

Yours &c.

Comments

[worldserpent.livejournal.com]

Mmm, is it really true that in non-Western thought that generousity more emphasized? In many non-Western cultures it's reciprocity that is valorized, not unselfisheness as you seem to be describing it. Perhaps there's a connection to Buddhism: desire is suffering, so the capitalist pathway of endless desire and striving is thus not seen as undesirable. But people have told me that in the West, people are much more comfortable with receiving favors without registering a sense of obligation, whereas in Japan, people are bound in closer networks of mutual obligation.

[troisroyaumes]

Hah, sorry, this is what happens when I make broad sweeping generalizations in the process of my rambling. To clarify, I'm not speaking about Western culture in general, but a rather narrow subset of it--the largely liberal, secular tradition in which I was educated and which has determined many of the assumptions with which I communicate with my classmates. The tradition I'm speaking of is generally cynical about human nature in that it defines all human actions as ultimate expressions of self-interest. People receive favors without feeling obligation, of course, because their self-interest is not compromised. The question is not so much of reciprocity as of the extent of personal benefit. People behave kindly to others and give favors because in the end that will ultimately benefit them (social health, establishing connections, etc.). The Enlightenment philosophers arguing that government is the result of a social contract, for example. Or the utilitarian philosophers arguing that moral actions are defined by the greatest benefit. Even Kant defines his categorical imperative in terms of the standard of action that you would expect of others.

And I think in a more subtle sense, there's this sense that such selfishness isn't bad. Rampant selfishness that brings you the resentment of other people is considered bad because it makes your life with those people that much more difficult. But it's also equally bad when you continue giving without sufficient self-benefit. (I probably notice this attitude more because I happen to be in a competitive environment.) That simply isn't practical, and as you've noted before, not very capitalist.

In one sense, you're very right in that most Asian cultures have rigid social conventions of reciprocity. But they don't really justify these conventions in terms of self-benefit as many Western philosophers do. There is a certain ideal of behavior, and one is expected to behave by it even if the rest of the world does not because of one's own integrity. And perhaps what I really wanted to emphasize was how much the ideal of generosity isn't considered self-detrimental. In Western culture, to sacrifice something may be considered noble (and in my particular circles, foolish and futile) but it's also considered an act of suffering. But the whole point of the idea of "loss of self" is to lose all attachments so that to give endlessly is in itself a happiness. Which, yes, is largely a Buddhist influence. But I think it's found in most Asian philosophies--the individual self is not meaningless but simply irrelevant to a person who has developed a generous mind. This idea exists in Western culture as well but more in a religious sense, which is largely ignored in the very, very secular environment I'm in.

In any case, it's certainly true that generosity is considered one of the five virtues of the Confucian sage or gentleman (and at least in my family, it's always listed first), and I think one can easily extrapolate that similar values are emphasized in Buddhism, Taoism, etc.

Uh, sorry for subjecting you to such a long reply...^_^;;

[worldserpent.livejournal.com]

Mmm, you mean the Invisible Hand and such? But personally I think it's a question of what is rewarded by the social environment, not really a question of the individual. And in some Western philosophies, the question of "benefit" vs "good" is very much considered, and in deotonology. But yeah, the individual stuff is the primary thing in the West, or the Enlightenment, altough I'm not sure about Taoism, which did have a reputation for things which were anti-social, in a non-violent sense, like retreating from society.

[troisroyaumes]

It's not so much a question of "benefit" vs. "good" which is perhaps the central issue of Western-based ethics, as the need to argue about "benefit" at all. But I do agree with you that the delineation is not strictly Western vs. non-Western, and I probably shouldn't be so quick to generalize. On the other hand, I think one can still characterize a mainstream line of Western secular thought that operates on certain assumptions, and I think the idea that humans operate largely on self-interest is one of them.

I have to admit my knowledge of Taoism is restricted to having read the Tao Te Ching when I was about 13--i.e. an age where I didn't really understand it at all. But at least from what I know of Taoism, I think it's not particularly an individualist philosophy at all. Taoism seems to emphasize refraining from action and interaction on grounds that the potential for becoming is more important than what one becomes (I'm taking this entirely from the proverb about the uncarved block). I.e. to me, I think Taoism is more about the unformed self, which is in a way entirely antithetical to Western individualism. The dialectic is not so much between individual and society as form and formlessness, if that makes any sense. In this context, there is no imperative to be generous or to give to others, but I think there is the same underlying concept of "loss of self" and loss of attachments. Of course, I may have interpreted Taoism incorrectly--please do clarify for me if I've gotten it wrong. ^_^;;

[worldserpent.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure of benefit is entirely absent from Asian thought. Some parts of Mencius sound very utilitarian, and some other of it can be shown as just telling people to follow the traditions in order to be a good person.

Oh, I don't claim to understand the Tao either, but from what I read it also emphasises non-being and non-action and unconscious living and indeed is all about the flux and the formlessness. But if "loss of attachment" is what is emphasized, then the emphasis on generousity would be more Confucian, I suppose, if I don't misunderstand that as well.