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Pillow herbs

I am currently reading the amazing Pillow herbs of Natsume Soseki, poetic novel he describes himself as a "novel-haiku". I had not been touched by I am a cat that criticism yet extols and that is supposed to be his major work, I found the writing turgid and quite a bit kitschy, but probably was is rather due to a horrible translation.

It is excellent here. Making it invisible artifice, it cancels the distance between languages, eras and cultures. A painter retired to a mountain lodge to paint and think about his art, the act of creation. We follow him as if he was quite possible that in turn passes this hostel soon, although it is actually in the early twentieth century.

"Recognizing the uniqueness of his work, the author wrote:" If this haiku novel (the term is admittedly weird) is possible, it will open new horizons in the literature. It does not seem to me that this type of novel has ever existed in the West. In any case, there never was such in Japan. "

And it's true that I rarely have read reflections on aesthetics and the vague feeling that born during the act of creation in a manner so clever, sensitive and poetic ...

is firstly a novel because it follows a painter in his retirement, but a novel that refuses to enter into the "psychology of the characters" traditional and rather portrays the changing curves, like the polymorphic images of a poem.

Characters are not the product descriptions of an omniscient narrator who analyze the intimacy of being to justify its outward appearance, but rather the opposite: the painter describes the objects and people he meets in the manner of a table, and the strength of his gaze as he arrives to penetrate to touch it and extract the essence that characterizes them and giving us access to their interior, which proves beyond its subjectivity

"It's like a land subsidence had occurred in a area normally motionless and, subsequently, everything has moved around, but, realizing that the movement is contrary to its true nature, the earth is trying to regain its original form, yet without being able to regain its balance and carried by energy, continued to move against her until today, she finally, in desperation, by stirring Express, against all odds ... If such a situation existed, it would precisely describe this unknown.

Behind disdain, lies a landscape that expresses the desire to cling to someone at any cost. It smells a discreet discerning the merits of its mocking aspect. If she gave herself up to her talent and if she put hers, she would not hesitate to confront a hundred men, but in this energy, a sweet sensibility sprang to his knowledge. Yet this lack of unity face. Looks like the insight and misguidance coexist in quarreling. If the face of this woman lacks unity, it is proof that unity is absent from his heart and if the unit is absent from heart is that she is absent from the world of this woman. It is the face of someone being harassed by adversity, attempts to avert it. This must be an unhappy woman. "

And later, about the same woman, feigning innocence, which comes in the nude hot spring saturated steam where our fleet painter

" The steam fills the room, after full, keeps rebound. The lamp was broadcasting its shadow on the night of spring and iridescent air throughout the room that vibrated gently, at the bottom of these clouds is gradually emerging a pale face with dark hair seems blurred. Look at its edges.

Both sides of his neck pandering slightly inward and down these lines with a natural bent towards the shoulders and then using a soft round and took their momentum to divide perhaps five fingers. Free under her breasts and plump, the undulations withdrew for a moment before break, making peacefully abdomen revealed a smooth and firm. Tighter forms seems to continue to back and to where this movement is interrupted, the body and shared looks forward slightly to catch his balance. Resist bending his knees to his legs and when a long ripple reaches the ankles, feet peacefully resolve all conflicts with their soles flat on the ground. The world does not suit more complicated nor any other that is provided with such a unit. Nowhere else can you find more natural contour, more flexible, more obvious, less burdensome. (...)

This contour is gradually taking shape in her pallor. Just when I think that if it is still not, alas, the beloved fairy will fall in the world down here, her hair green because of the wind like the tail of a divine tortoise that cleaves the waves and floats like bent grass. In sharp white steam spinning, the white figure jumps on the steps. The shrill voice of a woman who laughs echoing in the hallway and slowly moving away, leaving the room to silence. I swallowed the cup and sat up suddenly. The waves hit the chest surprises me. Spring water is overflowing the lapping. "

But this novel is a treatise on style, a reflection on the aesthetics and the creative act, on Western art, such as the Soseki has apprehended while he was professor of English, and Japanese art that he found after going through a spiritual crisis during which he decided to return home.

The novel opens elsewhere on this page with great lucidity certainenement was matched only by the pain that gave it birth. The absence of sensitive causes underlying tear in the description of the feeling it gives the appearance of a precipitate of thought. Now universal, because stripped of his worldly circumstances, it is the first aesthetic bias of the book, while it stands as a rule of life:

"I was climbing a mountain trail, saying: to use his intelligence, it is unlikely to cut corners. To navigate the waters of sensitivity can cause you to take laisset. To impose its will, you end up feeling cramped. In short, it is not convenient to live on earth among us.

When the pain of living increases, you feel like you get settled in a peaceful place. Once you understand that it is difficult to live anywhere, then comes the poetry and painting happens.

The human world was created neither by gods nor demons. After all, these are ordinary people, like your immediate neighbors. While it is difficult to live in this human world that ordinary people have created, it should not exist in countries where settle. It remains only to visit men without a country. However, it must be harder to live without men in the country than in the human world.

Since it is difficult to live in this world that we can not leave, we must make even a little comfortable, so that life is ephemeral it liveable, not even for a fleeting period of time . It was then that expresses the vocation known poet, then it turns out that the mission of the painter. Every artist is valuable because it soothes the human world and enriches people's hearts. What

rid of any trouble this world, where it is difficult to live, and projects under your eyes a world of grace, poetry is painting. Or is music and sculpture. To be exact, it does not project the world. It's enough to ask her gaze directly. That's where poetry is born and that's where the song rises. Even if the idea is not written down, the sound echoes in the crystal heart. Even if the paint is not spread over the canvas, the brilliance of the colors reflected in the inner eye. Just look at the world where you live, and contain, with purity and clarity of the camera in mind, the world worldly, frivolous and chaotic. Therefore an anonymous poet who has not written a single line, an obscure painter who has not painted a single canvas, are happier than a millionaire, a prince, that all celebrities trivial, because the former do understand life can be abstracted from any concern are able to enter the world of purity, to build the unique and sweep the constraints of selfishness.

Having lived twenty years in this world, I realized it was worth it to live there. At twenty-five years I had the revelation that light and darkness were two sides of same coin and that wherever light is born, shadow falls on us. Today in thirty years, here's what I think: ... The deeper the joy, the deeper the melancholy greater the pleasure, the greater the suffering. If we want to separate them, it does not blow. If you want to discard it, is the world that falters. Money is important and things of importance, if they accumulate, we continue into our sleep. Love makes you happy, but when the happiness of love increases, there is the nostalgia of the past where we did not like yet. A statesman is on the shoulders of millions of men. It supports on the back the enormous weight of the world. We regret to miss the exquisite meal. If you taste just one is never satisfied. And if one eats to satiety, it has unpleasant overtones ... "I still

cite other passages, but I know it is inconvenient to read on a screen, and I myself prefer to quit now, let there anger electrical and return Silence of the pages, inviting you along the way, if you want to gain height on the course of everyday things and feel the wind in you extend the poetry, get yourself to walk inside this book original and powerful and let you get lost in the mountains, until you meet a lonely inn on the outside which smoking a melting pot ...

Black Blister On Butt

Three and a half hours of walking in the mountains yesterday, with Aegis, Leonard, and Claude Oswald until Rwegura artificial lake, 20 kms from here, which feeds the hydroelectric power in the region , whose energy is consumed to Bujumbura.

Fortunately, the rain fell at km 20, a hundred yards of the houses REGIDESO technicians, who welcomed us. A few hours later, at the back of a pickup, in a rainstorm, we walked down the distance between us became incredibly Kayanza.

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New Star!

No no, you're not dreaming!

You read ...

There is no trick, it's a real magazine! No photoshop, well ... if necessarily, but in any case the result is there, in full ...

In full coverage ...

But no ... Parents magazine!

After the international success of his father on the NHK the advent of next future black bomb R'n'B (I know ... it has nothing to do with R'n'B, but it's more Huntz Huntz , c 'is here ...), in all cities of France and Navarre, displayed on walls in big, beautiful eyes sea Thae!

Run quickly and enjoy your purchase of this irresistible offer in the wet weather, a 100% organic cotton bib, Yee!

© photo: Marc Plantec / © styling: Julie Nivert

One feels a certain influence Japanese anyway ...

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Aragon or aesthetics in love with a poetic ideal interlude

On April 25, issue A life, a work , France Culture, was dedicated to Aragon. We could hear including Barbara Oliver, who has collected the complete works of Aragon in the collection of the Pleiades, also author of Memory and excess , a work that offers a rereading of his entire poetic oeuvre, beyond the ambiguities of character and myth that surrounds it, and Josiane Savigneau, which is currently drafting a biography of Aragon, to be published by Gallimard in late 2010.

I was wondering why there is still no recent biography of a man of such magnitude that Aragon in his life and his work. There are good one, Pierre Daix, friend of the writer Communist and himself, published in the lifetime of Aragon in 1975, without his complicity, and then revised in 1994. However, while this biography was written by a close associate of Aragon - from 1948 to 1972 - and the second edition benefits from comments he made on the first, it is not unanimous. It was time for a fresh look comes complete it. This is what is difficult, being made.

For want of an accurate trace the life of Aragon is willingness to defy the impossible. The man's lie- true, the man behind a thousand faces so many masks, the young man in the Great War, the romantic poet in revolt surreal post-war, the dandy seductive, passionate love of Elsa, the provocateur, the troubadour of the myth of constant Elsa the man the desire to tear and seeking other men to plumb its depths, the politician, the Communist vilipendeur the traitors at the end of the Second War, the poet-resistant, journalist, critic the lucid mind of its time or rather the man chained to his total loyalty to the party, man, finally, simply, through his time in his life, marked with bright and several times on the same scars from the deep anguish of history, sadly like a door turns on its hinges to open the passage of the nineteenth century to modern France, Aragon is all those and none at the time. It would be true of Victor Hugo, in the previous century, but Aragon is our time, what troubles me and fascinates me even more. Its song is a variation of the echo of the protean world in which we live, forever and ever modern in some aspects of which are embodied in a century to resonate well beyond.

I cite Hugo, of course it intentionally. I am referring Here again the richness of character, the poet, novelist, politician, but not only. The poetry of Hugo has renewed his age, it is the voice of classic romanticism present, which also have given the surreal light. Aragon says this about it not in talks with Francis Cremieux in 1963:

"What was the merit of surrealism is to have arrived at some point polemic discussion that took place At that time, and which bore the name of Dada, a controversial point of negating its activity, having proclaimed the broad field of poetry in the past as in the present, have brought light on these areas, pointing the spotlight on new works and men who risked sinking into oblivion, neglect, misunderstanding, ignorance. You know, we were in a time when Rimbaud was entitled, in the book where the punt was being prepared, that is to say the Lansson in a note to a note. (...) But what we gave up to Rimbaud, Jarry or Lautreamont? Instead of eccentrics, and that's it. Hugo was not a poet for the people. Is what we know is that it is surreal that have given the light on Hugo? (...) Our action was to keep things to happen in the old thing poetic youth to make the old thing poetic. In a sense, surrealism was a special elixir of youth for the elements of poetry. "Poetry

Aragon has also renewed his century and created a modern romance. The birth of her poetic voice in Creve Coeur in the forties, and as it grows when in other collections, after five years when she was silent, in fact marks, through the return chant of the poet in war-torn France, the renaissance a modern French romance whose roots extend beyond Victor Hugo to the Middle Ages and the twelfth-century courtly love.

That is the characteristic of genius from somewhere that tries to visualize Aragon, each party who created the universe is so large that it seems to be sufficient in itself, but who nevertheless have real meaning in what connects them to each other.

himself and explained:

"This is the life of a man, finally ... one likes, provided it is taken as a whole. Perhaps more so I suffered in my life as my contemporaries What had to oppose this part of my life to another. I have not changed much in my life, but finally, I do not think at sixty what I thought to ten or even what I thought at twenty-eight. And for this reason, throughout my life, I was opposed texts I signed in my youth, texts that I do not disavow, they were the expression, I think honestly, the development of my thinking . "Take

novelist or poet take a whole life can be too little to plumb the riches. Despite the boats, rigs, submarines, sea still retains its deepest secrets. Aragon in his work is one of them, beyond controversy, a huge poetic and thus guard around the light it receives upon itself a larger share of mystery.

It also includes a man and as complex, with each aspect separately could make the lives of many others, has aroused so much controversy during his lifetime and today, whatever that we may say, the man still disturbing. Because we live in an era that distrusts geniuses, too expensive to understand, too big, too attended various summits in history and, again, differently, too thin, perhaps, simply. We need artists du moment , une écriture courte, rapide, ramassée, qui parle au milieu du bruit, qui parle même quand on n'a pas le temps, qui parle comme soi-même on s'entend ; une écriture qui adopte le parler du temps et qui change avec lui. Alors on garde d'Aragon ce que le temps justement, dans sa constance, nous oblige à ne pouvoir ignorer : les poèmes qui résonnent dans les chansons et deux ou trois facettes facilement opposables : le surréaliste, le poète à Elsa, l'écrivain réaliste ou le communiste farouche.

L’émission de France culture en a retenu deux : le poète amoureux d’Elsa et le communiste. Bien que la qualité des propos tenus by stakeholders to make this issue an interesting introduction to who knows neither the man nor his work, an hour is not enough to go after all the issues including that of fundamental importance in the lives of Aragon, that is his relationship with Elsa. He tells Francis Cremieux:

"Everything I've ever written has been looking for the answer posed by the happiness of man and woman, and for the people and for lovers. "The

poetic - and romance - Aragon is traversed by some expression of love and what from the earliest writings well before his meeting with Elsa in November 1928. If the start dealing with miracles abounding in love, desire everywhere as a reflection on each of the sensible world, often in a triangular vision undifferentiated male / female relationships ( The Adventures of Telemachus, the libertine, The Peasant Paris, La Defense of infinity, etc..) romanticism expressed gradually assert itself from the theme of courtly love revisited, in the forties. It is with the Creve Coeur Indeed, in 1941, which Elsa is primarily the dedicatee, but whose name appears for the first time in the last poem, I love you Elsa and especially Eyes d'Elsa, in 1942, which begins this Barbara Oliver rightly called "the assumption of Elsa and whose apotheosis will Le Fou d'Elsa in 1963. But what love is this here? The expression of love in Aragon has this deeply troubling that as he constructs the myth of Elsa, he erected statues of poems, he makes the ultimate symbol of the beloved , to make a substitute mystical divine and creator of man, his expression is always crossed by the heartbreak that is impossible to live this love, the pain of not living together, for "the impossibility of happiness in the common misfortune" as stated Aragon himself. Then he puts all his genius and his skill at creating the most beautiful images ever shown the disorder to be full of being loved, then these images actually exist today and meet to love living in the hearts of other men, the couple, in their daily life existed in less than ideal sung by the poet. Aragones has truly lived his feelings through the prism of writing, Elsa has long suffered from the gradual elevation to the rank of deified statue, which however was erected to his glory, there is something tragic running through the work of Aragon, but also his life, Barbara Oliver and summarizes quite right: "Ultimately, this sense of being an enigma, to be with someone who constantly escapes, Aragon says the suffering and Elsa lived. "Suffering that finds its expression the most painful in this letter written to her husband, Elsa, and state, so veiled in oblivion, or Blanche in 1967:

"It is not easy to talk to you, you seem forget that we live in the epilogue of our lives, then there will be nothing more to say, and the index even more will read it, not us. I accuse you of living for thirty-five years as if you had to run to extinguish a fire. In your race, it is important not to disturb you, or you anticipate nor the t'emboîter, nor follow you, regardless of structure. Both cut dry branches. It To advise is important not to do anything with you. Together , this latest venture is what I experienced more terribly sad. The pleasure of doing something normal all, you do not know. A harmless word about it and you start to explain the mountain of things you have to do. In short, nothing changed since the anti-colonial exhibition. However, it might be as urgent sometimes we "meet". It remains extremely short time, and you know better than anyone. My God! what I miss the serenity ... "

Yet I reserve some say, after Olivier Barbara that "the best guide in the couple's life or in the analysis of passion is perhaps more Elsa Triolet" Aragon. It said she was annoyed by this ideal position if the poetics of Aragon as to be disembodied, this figure itself that makes the shade up say there is nothing here of the life of the couple. We know very well that it is not. Even if the figure of Elsa is adorned with an aura of absolute daily life does not hold, where the poems elle figure n’en sont pas moins une tentative pour Aragon d’exprimer son amour pour et au-delà d’Elsa, mais en nourrissant l’absolu qu’il construit d’événements bien réels. Il en est ainsi de tous les poèmes où Elsa figure. Et il est de ce fait peut-être vain de chercher à démêler le vrai du faux, le construit du vécu, l’idéal de sa source ordinaire, car même si cet amour n’est vécu que dans le champ de son existence littéraire, il n’en est pas moins réel, du moins pour l’auteur. Elsa en donne la version quotidienne, la douleur d’un vécu plus réel, cette douleur qui témoigne de la distance croissante between the ideal and model, who eventually wants to silence the poem. I see this whole drama of the couple even beyond Aragon and Elsa. No one more than another is the best guide themselves themselves together, but they have maps on hand to say otherwise, additional cards of course, but the beneficiary will never be as the third party which meets to confront his own experience, never themselves. One can imagine that the rival eponymous poems has brought suffering and frustration for the real person, and that as it set itself up statue model was feared to disappear in his shadow, even more when the audience started to sing the praises and the criticism has begun to examine the foundations. And it is true that to some extent, Elsa existed for Aragon was above all that it built gradually from clay mixed with love and suffering. It took courage for this woman to exist outside of the shadow that she posed for the celebration of love with Elsa everywhere, but Oliver Barbara rightly reminds us that Elsa was not only the victim of this company Total love, but as its instigator.

What might be called the error of Aragon, had he been interested in finding ways of daily living his love, but which is not really, since this suffering and even the creation of a poetic ideal had his way, though real, live that love, not that mistake then, but at least the pain of giving flesh to the ideal or not finding enough in the person beloved, is precisely the fact that Elsa has made a totem, it becomes over its poetic rather than a being of flesh, but the abstraction of love itself, an ideal that becomes mystical Le Fou d'Elsa , in other words, a Virgin pure, but unattainable.

In his talks with Francis Cremieux, Aragon also evokes the issue before any aesthetic that is the figure of Elsa in Le Fou d'Elsa , but now also in the whole of his poetry. Elsa becomes "a philosophical conception of existence" and therefore even further away from the woman with whom he shares an apartment on Rue de Varennes:

"This is probably the main reason for writing the Fou d'Elsa . (...) I did not want it to be outdone in this regard, an explanation, how shall I say ... purely daily matter. Because for people, good, he speaks of his wife . It is a scandal for some, for others a touching thing, the question is not here. That is the outward appearance of things. But when I talk to Elsa and the reality of my life, it is certain that this is behind me, something else, not someone else, but anything other than the lyricism usual. This is related to a philosophical conception of existence and it is this design which is involved in the Fou d'Elsa and required a greater extent for me because I had to give this explanation opportunities to go back and inform differently for people who have not seen what the love poem, as we say in my past work. "

The problem, beyond Aragon is one of the" philosophical concept of existence "because in the end, all philosophy is only valid if is experienced ... Already in Lesson Ribérac , Treaty style accentuating the Eyes of Elsa , Aragon had sought to put forward the moral of courtly love, which puts the lover in the service of his lady, the cons fascism of the era that put the welfare of man above that of women. With Le Fou d'Elsa , Aragon goes much further however as it now gives to the idea of women as a more absolute meaning, inspired by the Sufi mystics of the fifteenth century. If it is still well above of man, the woman is now in its essence the very principle by which man is created. Speaking of mysticism in Aragon may seem paradoxical, yet he explained:

"We must agree on things that mean the words to begin with. Mysticism, to rely simply on Oxford Dictionary, is "the voice of divine perfection through contemplation," and we know that such can not be the voice of my poetry. However, looking at the Arab mystics typical expression of what unites, say, Le Fou d'Elsa , the mystical expression. One of the largest Arab mystic, Ibn Arabi, said: "One likes to be in fact none other than his creator. "This is something that can be understood in different ways. Personally, I know that I love, but I do not know my creator. To interpret, therefore, in a manner consistent with reality, the thought of Ibn Arabi, should we not reverse the proposal and say, 'Who am I created? This proposal is the mystical surrender to his feet. This is the definition of the role of the woman, explaining the attitude of Bishop, who, in Granada, is accused of idolatry. (...) This means for me, obviously, as the object of my love, is the principle by which I created, that is to say that I am becoming me, me and not another, me man, rather than the brute I was. "I agree

entirely on the idea expressed here of love as a mutual childbirth and finds its best illustration in the following verses:

This double mystery among
knowledge triumphant
My wife whom I am endlessly
the world who I am I put

also seduced by the idea it expresses the mystical and feminine essence spirituality, who joined in that expression that gave another great Indian mystic, Ramakrishna:

"Man is invested, the Sufi mystics of Islam, as the intermediary between the gasoline from which it emanates, which is a female, and the woman who comes to him. And whatever the first principle of creation, for the Sufis, even if it is God, God is here because it is a feminine The Cause. Thus, for Islam itself, at least among the mystics, the female principle is required for the origin of the world, the origin of man. It is therefore natural to say that he "Created man." "But I regret

he then gave to this principle that equates the woman to God the name of the woman he loves, because then Elsa refers to figures that will never be more congruent but still opposing

"The words addressed to God are addressed in these conditions, naturally, to the beloved. And as the Fool says: "There is no difference in prayer and song, '" if it is a reality principle precisely where the pain comes not live together. Aragon continues:

"[The Fool] turns what Muslims call their qibla, that is to say their prayers to the place where this woman. (...) As you know, the Muslim turns towards Mecca, Mecca is the qibla . Similarly, he, the bishop, turned to the place where this woman he speaks, in other words, Elsa. (...) The mystique has changed direction, she became poetry. What was the greatness of mysticism, we recognize the fact that it was the poetry turned to God, and I turned from poetry to a woman, I turn my qibla to Elsa. "Elsa is

thus become a totem, the door opening on a poetic ideal, retaining its now real for the five letters of his name. The culmination of the poetic beauty of Aragon is also one of the impossible access to the other, loneliness in marriage to Elsa who will say in his letter that went to one side other. The flaw in

Aragon escaping reality principle, ungraspable in favor of an aesthetic principle, I think, also the source of his bisexuality, on which there is no gloss finish. It would wrong to see the homosexual tendencies of Aragon at the end of his life, a kind of liberation after the death of Elsa to preserve intact the myth of being loved, because as John says Ristat, this trend has always accompanied Aragon; these temptations beside the existence of Elsa, Elsa knew them. However, once women become statue, goddess and finally, it becomes the same untouchable and homosexual desire may then be a way of life in the flesh that the aesthetic ideal can not. It is perhaps here that essentially the concept of desire is opposed to that love. The psychoanalytic explanation of homosexuality Aragon however, can not alone be satisfactory. Instead of homosexuality, we must speak of bisexuality in Aragon, because you can not question his love for women, and especially for Elsa, certainly idealized, but not only. Like Franck Merger, which in 2003 published an article entitled Surrealism and homosexuality: the position of Aragon in The Libertinage (1924) and The Defence of infinity (1923-1928) , I think his bisexuality was also involved with a place to Aragon. We found also echoed in his work. Barbara Olivier, this disorder is exposed in the poems, not in the original sense of what is said but at the pace. It focuses, however, the novels, in which the script reveals the homosexual theme more evident, and the ambivalence of sexual orgy as a quest for infinity. Homosexuality, not as an independent aesthetic posture, difficult to defend against the deification of the woman he built, but part of a wider reflection on desire, as arising So the orgy, which allows the differentiation of bodies of the absolute expression of desire in the dissolution of individuality, and its infinite, in other words, the pure principle of desire, beyond restrictions that love alone imposes.

I recommend reading this article whose work on hermeneutics texts he proposes to study illuminates the special issue of homosexuality at that time in life and in the implementation of Aragon.