Mono No Aware: An Attempt at a Dramatization of the Vase Scene in Late Spring(Partially a response to HH's piece on the vase)(Kai Englisch)

 One question that has been kicking around in the back of my mind since Tokyo Story, and through all the movies is-Why does he consistently use these still shots of unanimate things, especially at times extremeley charged with human emotion (the sunset in Tokyo Story, the Wheat in Early Summer, the Vase and Zen garden in Late Autumn, etc...). Why the urge to "look away"?

    While looking through youtube, I found a video essay on the meaning of the vase shot (a channel recommended to me by Ms. Ha). I'll put the link in here, and I'd love to hear people's thoughts on it. One comment that struck me was an observation, that during very emotionally charged moments, rarely do we stare laser-like at the person we're talking to. The emotionality of the moment is so much, that perhaps it is too much to handle. The look away helps us process it. 

What could she be feeling? I was out walking today, and felt this question bouncing around still in my head. I tried imagining what I would feel if I were her. This piece is going to try and be a creative retelling of what I could imagine she might be thinking and feeling.

Noriko felt herself buzzing with the delight of the day. As she set to making her bed, visions of Mr. Onodera and his new wife swam across her mind. She saw that smile, oh that smile! How joy seemed to radiate from his mouth. And hers as well! She smiled to herself remembering the way he had teased her for her remraks about his new wife, as they looked at them from across the way through the binoculars. Oh how she now felt herself reprimanded, at the thought of calling her "filthy." Those thoughts seemed so far away now. How silly, she thought. She felt the strange sense of possibility that one feels at having had one's long held belief wash away in an instant. As though she now stood above it, past it. Filthy, what a silly word! To decry pure human happiness in such a way was ridiculous! Of course she would want that for her father, whom she loved more dearly than anyone else in the world! How untrue a thought it now seemed, that to be happy would be somehow to dance on her mother's grave. She felt herself drawn to scenes of the future, of scenes of her father's joy and radiance. Swelling, she turned towards him. "I used to think that even in your case, I found the idea of remmariage distasteful, but..." she trailed off as she turned to him, realizing he was fast asleep. Her joy diminished somewhat by having no one to share it with, she turned back towards the ceiling, sighing. As she felt her eyes closing, still buzzing with excitement behind her eyelids, her gaze was caught by the moonlight streaming in through the window. Her attention grounding into the physical present, she found herself looking at the way the light streamed through the window. She noticed the way the leaves shook, the calm night air moving them softly, like waving hands. She suddenly felt as all people do that feeling of newness that accompanies the dissolution of an idea held very dear, that one never imagined oneself to be without. She thought of her father, and the idea of him remarrying. As she considered it, thoughts suddenly started to make their way into her mind into ancient ways, long thought to have been settled. If he married again, then perhaps she would no longer have to take care of him. This thought took her off guard. That would mean that she might truly get married. This idea, long held to be mere lip service, made its reality felt. But, what about her happiness at the moment? Wasn't she happy now? For the first times in her adult life, she felt the great question of her own happiness being answered not from within, but from a larger current of voices, dragging her along. It was as if she had no say in any of it! Although these thoughts did not cross her mind consciously, she rather felt them in the form of an unknowable anxiety at there cascade. It was as if life, people, all rushed past her, jostling her to step into their current, without her consent. Oh, how temporary was happiness! 

    These thoughts all rushed past her consciousness in an instant, a dull, aching sense of heaviness their mask. She focused again on the vase in front of the window. She watched the porcelain, shining in the moonlight, unchanging. The spring peepers outside continued to hum, accompanying the warm, soft season like they always did. 

    This scene, and my interpretation of it, reminded me of the phrase Mono no Aware. I believe it was mentioned in class and a blog post by Mr. Anthony and Mr. Venkatesh, who obviously have more knowledge of its significance than I do (and who I'd love to hear speak about its role in Ozu). Looking for the origins of its etymology, meaning, and cultural significance, I found a good description on the Stanford philosophy website  that seemed helpful:

   "The meaning of the phrase mono no aware is complex and has changed over time, but it basically refers to a “pathos” (aware) of “things” (mono), deriving from their transience. In the classic anthology of Japanese poetry from the eighth century, Manyōshū, the feeling of aware is typically triggered by the plaintive calls of birds or other animals. It also plays a major role in the world’s first novel, Murasaki Shikibu’s Genji monogatari (The Tale of Genji), from the early eleventh century. The somewhat later Heike monogatari (The Tale of the Heike Clan) begins with these famous lines, which clearly show impermanence as the basis for the feeling of mono no aware:

The sound of the Gion shōja bells echoes the impermanence of all things; the color of the sōla flowers reveals the truth that the prosperous must decline. The proud do not endure, they are like a dream on a spring night; the mighty fall at last, they are as dust before the wind. (McCullough 1988)

And here is Kenkō on the link between impermanence and beauty: “If man were never to fade away like the dews of Adashino, never to vanish like the smoke over Toribeyama, how things would lose their power to move us! The most precious thing in life is its uncertainty” (Keene, 7). The acceptance and celebration of impermanence goes beyond all morbidity, and enables full enjoyment of life:"

Other stuff (according to wikipedia) about it: The phrase is derived from the Japanese word mono (物), which means "thing", and aware (哀れ), which was a Heian period expression of measured surprise (similar to "ah" or "oh"), translating roughly as "pathos", "poignancy", "deep feeling", "sensitivity", or "awareness". Thus, mono no aware has frequently been translated as "the 'ahh-ness' of things, life, and love". Awareness of the transience of all things heightens appreciation of their beauty, and evokes a gentle sadness at their passing. In his criticism of The Tale of Genji, Motoori noted that mono no aware is the crucial emotion that moves readers. 

This to me, seems to be sort of what this scene evokes. It is a sense of impermanence of all things- Our happiness, our ideas, the nature of our relationships, will all change. it is interesting that the Stanford encyclopedia tells us that it is a feeling "triggered by the plaintive calls of birds and other animals." This sounds similar to what I have experienced. For me, ever since I was little the sound of spring peepers has always triggered a sort of remembrance of the impermanence of things. One possibility is that these things are seasonal and therefore regular in a ritualistic way. Every year I hear the spring peepers, yet I know it reminds me that who I am now is different from who I was the last time I hear them. When we hear these natural things, we hear something that, despite the changing of all things human, they will continue to peep. This I think, is also an illusion, because it is not the same spring peepers that peeped the years ago. They are now long dead. However, it seems there is some permanency to nature that snaps us aware to the temporariness of what we are doing. 

Another thought is that perhaps there is a sort of snapping awake whenever we hear something that is temporary. Seen in this other way, the sounds of nature are temporary. bird calls are short- spring peepers disappear in the morning, sun rises are a special event that only happen for a short time. Perhaps what brings on this feeling of mono no aware  is that they are special, and their infrequency calls our attention to something that is impermanent but beautiful. Maybe as we experience this, on a small scale we feel the pleasure of a thing, and also the poignancy that is brought on by its loss. Relating this back to my childhood, perhaps what made the call of the spring peepers so distinctly vivid is that I knew that I wouldn't hear them in the winter or fall.  It is beauty that only is there sometimes. 

What do you think about this feeling of Mono no aware? How do Ozu's films trigger it for others?