いつだったか、こちらのヒーラー、Ms. F. V. に、『あなたの過去生は一度、ダイナミックヒーラーだった。そしてその危険なヒーリングの名残がある』と言われたことがある。今更のようにS君はその言葉を思い出す。つまり、相手の不具合な状態を全て肩代わりして自らの身体に移行させ、我が身を持って相手を完治させる。。。いや、それはないでしょう、だって、S君は自己免疫疾患もあれば左足の不具合もあるんです。でも、、、これらの事故が他者でなくて自分に起こって良かった、と真実思っている。そしてこのような介助人生活をO氏が与えてくれたのもありがとう。介助を通してS君は限界に挑む。介助の楽しさと介助の豊かさ、さらにまたアイディアが沸き起こる。
Here Newburgh Free Library is one of my favorite places. A large, clear glass window facing the Hudson River stretches right in front of me, sitting in a comfortable chair and unfolding my laptop. Even though my old eyes, across the river I can see the Metro-North Railroad Hudson line passing and stopping at Beacon Station, also Dia Beacon (Art Foundation) too.
This side of the Hudson River, under my eyes freight trains come and go regularly. I hardly notice it, but in the middle of the night and at dawn, the distant horn jumps into my ear, I wonder what is the train running next to my house? Suddenly something difficult to explain with emotion shaking my soul and nostalgic feeling.
Railroads, trains, and night trains are classics in songs, poetry, literature, and movie/images with the addition of symbolic concepts such as the first station and the last station (life / death), passing stations, transfer stations, local trains, express trains, bullet train—I wonder if it is the speed of each life that people choose. Even now, in my way, a life that ran between stations (the highlights), the parts between stations are now a bit more important and getting acceptance and love.
Recently, because of my needs I’ve been looking for things. Every time I move, I’m reducing my luggage, so most of my things now are not many boxes and bags, and the rest are thrown into the drawers. Though I don’t have many things, I can’t find what I need easily. It’s funny, while I’m going through things, I find something outrageous (again), and time stops at a little note. When I left Arizona, I was packing, and some of the boxes seemed to be unorganized, yet I guess I put them inside, and the first book that caught my eye when I opened a box was “Who is Malcolm X?” by Maroko Oji (real name is S.I.).
“The soul weighs just 50 grams.” ,,, This message is from a friend S.I who passed away in the year 2008, November.
Perhaps it was before 2001, I hurried to line up in the morning to put up a flier at a Japanese grocery store. Since the bulletin board has limited space, many people come early with their own ads and fliers. There was already the first person in front of me, that was S.I. He had a print of a political document film screening announcement, where we both introduced ourselves and looked at each other’s posters until the store opened. As for mine, it must have been the information about my acquaintance’s house sublet.
After that, I participated in the xx meetings, which been started by S.I. and his friends with the purpose of “discussing world problem issues”. Then we became estranged after a long time. Occasionally when I met him by chance, like a child of the Beatles, he was walking dashingly with a guitar on his back.
For the last few years he had been in and out of hospital, but he was fine. He often asked me to go Sushi store, “Sushi makes me feels healthy and good when I eat, so please buy them.” He also came to the gig of Orin’s country rock group F.o.K / Fist of Kindness, and they both talked about music theory.
For some reason he has no family. Finally he realized that he couldn’t leave the hospital anymore, one day his friends called me to clear up his room. S.I.’s desk, bookshelf, kitchen, storage, everything was in order, yet it was like a world of wabi-sabi/quiet & silent/loneliness. Probably it was a treatment for a bed bug while S.I. absence, the white powder sprinkled by the landlord accumulated, and everyone looked at each other for a moment. Things to leave for a separated family, things to give, things to put in a warehouse, things to send, things to dispose of, even though they are so neat and tidy, they are not tidied up at all. Luggage appears one after another. It seems to be S.I., he will never show his insight, but he seems to give a glimpse of each thought and life in a philanthropic manner.
At last we can see the end, and just carry them to warehouse by rental truck, so I was leaving. I was told that I should take anything that was left because they must throw things away, but then I can’t say that I want everything in the kitchen. S.I. was also a strong Macrobiotic follower, and definitely he was choosing the tableware, pot kettle, chopsticks and seasonings to be all organic! What is diet! Why did he get sick! I’m so sorry. A weight scale caught in my eyes, so I got it and went home.
Soon, one evening, when I was heading to the subway to visit him, I heard S.I.’s voice right behind me: Okay, Sanae-san, you don’t have to come. I’ll die soon.
The scale I received was good to use always, but no matter how I adjust it after a certain time, the needle is not always 0 and the 50g display is moving. That night, when I was disgusted and put it in the trash, S.I. appeared in my dream. He is very angry. “Why did you throw it away, the scale! Did I say that you forgot? I’ll tell you what you know after I die. The soul weighs 50 grams. I wanted to let you know that. “
Is that 50 grams staying on this earth due to gravity? In which dimension is the soul? Can it be regarded simply as energy? What about all living things, maybe only he himself weighs 50 grams? If S.I.’s soul/spirit still has his own personality, I’m hoping he’ll probably give an answer.
Kale, collards, Japanese pumpkin, nasturtium, green pea, purslane, tomato, basil, pepper, lettuce, mustard green that have grown rapidly in the last few days. Wow! Thank you~.