Nekko-do

It sprang into my head as an idea as clear as tap water pours into a glass. And it is as simple as it is genius. So much so that I suspect I'm not the first person to think of it.

Let us begin with the name. It means 'the way of the cat'. In Japanese. Why Japanese? Because it instantly sounds cool. It involves cats  and meditation and perfectioning one's mood, posture and attitude, so it might as wel have been inveted or first thought of in a remote zen buddhist cloister.

What you do is this: you sit in a chair or bench or grassy spot in the sun, it matters little as long as you are secluded from eletronic distractions and major city noise. Now sit perfectly still until a cat selects your lap for a little day time nap. Immediately you will experience the urge to reach for a book, a cup of tea, a glass of wine, you will think of a million chores and feel an irresistible urge to use the bathroom or some long postponed telephone calls. Ignore all these impulses. Slowly and deliberatly stroke the cat and clear your mind of anything but the purring of your feline friend. Continue unil the cat leaves voluntarily.

Et voila.

The Window

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: Why should he have all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window - and that thought now controlled his life.

Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence--deathly silence.

The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away--no words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

Unknown author

Hypothesis II

The hearing and even more so the making of the sound "Wiiiiiiiiiiie" causes happiness.

It is as indicated by the title of this post only a hypothesis. In my experience "Wiiiiiiiiiiie" and being happy come together in 93% of the cases. I have yet to determine whether "Wiiiiiiiie" provokes the happy feeling, is an indication of it, results from it or prolongs it.

Edit: The same goes for poking. Too bad I don't have any midget-sized friends so 'accidentally' poking someone's eye out isn't achievable.

Urges

We all have them. Urges. Those feelings you know you shouldn't give into. Those little day-to-day battles you can't afford to lose. And I know plenty of it because on a regular day I fight tears and injustice, hunger and pain and rage, cold bloodthirsty rage. 'Tis a grave sign indeed when the only urge I'm suppressing is one that would have me humming a tune to the pace of my skipping steps on the city streets.

Free Will

By the way, this article has my new favourite quote on free will, attributed to Schopenhauer: “A man can do as he wills, but not will as he wills.” In other words, you are free to do whatever you want. The catch is that you don’t have any control over what you want.*

And so it is that my own better judgement, my pride, my feeling of compassion, and a looming sense of future agony work hard for me to be calm and see sense (one meagre blob of morality boost can never/ should never cause this euphoria) but to no avail I tasted victory. Sweet sweet victory. Because it is what I want, need, crave and as we have just learned there's nothing I can do about that.

* one click on the text will take you to the post were I got this info^
^information for those who do not feed read and hence may have difficulty spotting links