Quotations

"Ithaca.

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca, pray that the road is long, full of adventure, full of knowledge. The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the angry Poseidon -do not fear them: You will never find such as these on your path if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine emotion touches your spirit and your body. The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter, if you do not carry them within your soul, if your heart does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long. That the summer mornings are many, when, with such pleasure, with such joy you will enter ports seen for the first time; stop at Phoenician markets, and purchase fine merchandise, mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony, and sensual perfumes as you can; visit many Egyptian cities, to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind. To arrive there is your ultimate goal. But do not hurry the voyage at all. It is better to let it last for many years; and to anchor at the island when you are old, rich with all that you have gained on the way, not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage. Without her you would never have set out on the road. She has nothing more to give you. And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not decieved you. Wise as you have become, with so much experience, you must already have understood what Ithacas mean."

Constantine Cavafy (1863-1933)
Translated by Rae Dalvern

"According to the writer Jorges Luis Borges, the idea of the Zahir comes from the Islamic tradition and is thought to have arisen at some point in the eighteenth century. 'Zahir', in Arabic, means visible, present, incapable of going unnoticed. It is someone or something which, once we have come in contact with them or it, gradually occupies our every thought, until we can think of nothing else. This can be considered either a state of holiness or of madness."

Faubourg Saint-Peres
Encyclopaedia of the Fantastic (1953)

These are quotes from the introduction of the book by Paulo Coelho 'the Zahir' which I have just started reading. I picked the book up because I remember seeing it advertised on a billboard on the London underground a week before I left for Japan. I have read several of his other works including; 'the Alchemist', 'Veronika decides to die', and 'Eleven minutes', all of which I thought were excellent. I bought the book with the last of my money, because I felt I was meant to. I don't know why. I just felt it was important. Anway, we will see.

P.10 'the Zahir'.

"The inspector says I'm free. I'm free now and I was free in prison too, because freedom continues to be the thing I prize most in the world. Of course, this has led me to drink wines I did not like, to do things I should not have done and which I will not do again; it has left scars on my body and on my soul, it has meant hurting people, although I have since asked their forgiveness, when I realised that I could do absolutely anything except force another person to follow me into my madness, in my lust for life. I don't regret the painful times; I bear my scars as if they were medals. I know freedom has a price, as high as that of slavery; the only difference is that you pay with pleasure and a smile, even when that smile is dimmed by tears."

P.11

"Freedom. The freedom to be wretchedly alone."

The other book I bought was a slim Penguin paperback by Alain de Botton called 'On Seeing and Noticing.' It has a comical and poignant illustration on the cover. A headless girl is slipping off the strap of her top; but not from off her naked shoulder, but a coat hanger. For 500 yen I would have bought it just for that image but I was fascinated by the content of this collection short essays on life too. For me it was money well spent. When I returned home late last night, I lay on the floor of my appartment (for I have no furntiture) and read the first essay.

P. 6 - 7

"On the pleasures of sadness.

Few places are more conducive to internal converstations than a moving plane, ship or
train. There is an almost quaint correlation between what is infront of our eyes and the thoughts we are able to have in our heads: large thoughts at times require large views, new thoughts new places. Introspective reflections which are liable to stall are helped along by the flow of the landscape. The mind may be reluctant to think properly when thinking is all it is supposed to do. The task can be as paralysing as as having to tell a joke or mimic an accent on demand. Thinking improves when parts of the mind are given other tasks, are charged with listening to music or following a line of trees.... At the end of hours of train-dreaming, we may feel we have been returned to ourselves: that is, brought back into contact with emotions and ideas that are important to us. It is not necessarily at home that we best encounter our true selves."