Liberation, Impermanence
A shadow of impermanence has been following me ever since I moved to this country. 8 semesters and 4 summers to secure a job, or move back home. Followed by 3 years to either win the infamous visa lottery, or have my employer move me to a different country (neither of which happened). Then followed by 2 more years of being a part-time student and working full-time while continuing to seek out ways to keep the life I have built here. Very little has been finite about my existence here since the very beginning. While it taught me to move through the world in a very nimble, light-footed way, for a long time, I was also deeply uncomfortable with that absence of certainty and permanence, which came with how abstract my concept of home had become over time. It’s somewhat paradoxical as a way of being. But over the last year or so, I have become better at embracing uncertainty and future-proofing my livelihood. Both in healthy amounts, of course.
I went looking for how other people and different belief systems treated this problem of impermanence and came across something very close to my own roots. Origin and Development of Religion - 100 Questions Answered in Yumaism by J. R. Subba analyzes the Kirati religion through multiple anthropological standpoints organized under 100 questions and answers.
In answering whether there are traces of naturism in Yumaism, Subba writes:
Thirdly, these natural objects acted for the people in terms of a metaphor and symbol of the infinity of life. The Sun sets in the day, ascends the next day, and the Moon sets at night, ascends the next night. A dead man may be born some day somewhere. Likewise, it gives an idea about the infinity of life to all animate and inanimate objects in nature. In Mundhum, when a man dies, the Phedangma consoles the deceased’s soul, saying, “You have done nothing new. Nothing is permanent in this universe. Everything in this universe dies to be born again. It is your turn today. There will be someone’s tomorrow.” This shows that Yumaism expresses the feeling of “impermanence as well as infinity of life,” influenced by the Naturism of Müller.
Two things I like about what’s being discussed here:
Seeking out metaphors and symbols for the nature of life and our existence in the mundane (the sun rising and the moon setting in this case). This is a great basis for observing and being present in your surroundings and any creative work you set out to do.
Marrying impermanence with infinity. Because my physical body will experience death someday. But clearly, there is a grander scheme my soul has undergone and will keep going through.
There is also a departure from Hinduism and Buddhism that Subba discusses in answering what Yumaism is:
Further, like Hinduism, it is a ritualist religion and philosophy whose central theme is the transmigration of the soul. It believes in the transmigration of the soul infinitely to the sacred space (Sangram Pedang Den (heaven)) after purification of the soul. However, unlike Hinduism and Buddhism, Yumaism of the Limboo Society does not believe in the liberation of the soul or Moksha. It believes in the infinity of life and no death or release.
And then on the purification of the soul:
They believe that purification of impurities is possible only in the earth realm, where they can practice Suyo-Kheyo (Karma) by following the Yumaism way of life. They also believe that this is the only realm of existence where they acquire Outer Perception System (Ni-Sam = sub-soul of sight, and Khem-Sam = sub-soul of hearing) and Multi or Inner Perception System (Sikkum-Sam = sub-soul of intuition, Ningwa-Sam = sub-soul of mind, and Thona-Sam = sub-soul of wisdom) with flesh, which are essential for Suyo-Kheyo (Karma) practice. Once they get purified, they leave this realm of existence to continue their intangible, infinite life. They do not believe in Moksha or release as in Hinduism or Buddhism.
I’ve been sitting with these concepts/questions for days now.
What is left when the only promise made to your soul is the infinite cycle of death and rebirth, and nothing you do while on earth can free the soul from this cycle? In the absence of a final or ultimate state for the soul, all we have as humans is whether or not (and how) we make use of these perception systems. And maybe this is the closest that any soul can reach to liberation in this framework.
Also intrigued by the concept of a sub-soul, the opposite being a super-soul that will transcend between different realms.
Old Places / New Rituals
Summer is slipping away. And fast. As I write this, there’s a hurricane making its way to the eastern coast of the United States and is expected to make landfall in a few days. I had a particularly emotionally turbulent day yesterday that involved a grown man and an 18-year-old, confused, concerned, seeing me break down in tears, followed by me taking a phone order for a large Margherita pizza, still in tears.
But today I walked into a new ritual.
There is a park I have been avoiding for months now because of the people and memories I associate with it. The only positive memory I have is of sitting at a bench with my parents and watching people, children, and dogs pass us by, and talking to each other in our own obscure and irrelevant tongue.
With a clarity that can only come from guiding a wandering mind through preparing for a job interview and spilling my guts into my journal for three hours, then walking through a bookstore at a mall, I found myself at the park again. I sat in the same row of benches where I had been with my parents with a salty spam onigiri, staring at the sunset, and maybe a hundred people spread out across the lawn. After finishing my food, I Citibiked back to my house.
This will be my new ritual. For honoring that time in between seasons, something that has defined much of my existence for almost a year now. To cling to the last bits of summer, if nothing else. Spam onigiri on a park bench. Watch whatever unfolds in front of me. Think of the future, what lies ahead of me. Finish eating. Bike back to the house.
I can’t reverse the past. But I don’t have to relive it either. I don’t have to let it define anything except what I know I need to leave behind. I can infuse an old place with new meanings.
Throne of Blood (1957)
Maqbool (2003) is one of my favorite movies of all time and perhaps the first that pulled me so viscerally into its psychological landscape. The reason Throne of Blood made it to my watchlist was because I read (probably under a Letterboxd review) how Vishal Bhardwaj took inspiration from it for Maqbool. But I walked away from this movie with a greater appreciation for Macbeth and its various adaptations. A story of raw ambition contorting itself and the lines between fate and free will, the ugliest possible manifestations of deeply held desires. I really enjoyed dissecting the parallels between this and Maqbool.
September Playlist
KAYTRANADA_WAITIN_115 BPM made me think about छन्छनाहट (chhan-chhanaahat) as a musical quality and I’m trying to listen for it in other songs and the noises around me. And I am unfortunately not above not falling for the fakemink psyop.
wdym about fakemink
no wait why is fakemink a psyop