Enlightenment and My Progress (Or Lack Thereof): The Final Lesson

When I walked into the International Exchange Center this morning, two days before my final day, Mr. Snoogles greeted me by singing, “Johhnnnnyy Annngeeelll!” Funny how such a seemingly innocent and seemingly trivial joke can trigger a cascade of sentimentality (in spite of my declaration not to get swept up by such a wave).

The day after I graduated from college, while driving home, I broke down into tears after realizing one inevitable truth: A lot of the people with whom I had surrounded myself for the past four years, despite promises and information exchanges, would slip out of my life eventually. This bitter reality was neither my fault nor theirs’—it was simply something that was out of the control of all parties involved, the blame being chalked up to the rather odd phenomenon know as “life.” That’s life: We would become old yarns to each other, stories, anecdotes…I would justify to myself that these people were time-and-placers.

And here it comes again, life. It is such an unsettling feeling to know that some people with whom I exchange hugs and I-love-yous here in Japan might become distant memories or characters in my stories that I will tell to new friends in the future. I don’t mean to sound fatalistic, dark, or humorless about this whole experience. No, what you are hearing is someone who is simply trying his goddamned best to make sense of the fact that he is leaving “home” to go “home.”

I had a dream last night where I was back in America. I caught a glimpse of the feeling I’ll have when I realize that I can’t walk down the steps of my apartment and stop in at the convenient store to grab a rice ball. I won’t stick out anymore because of my foreign-ness, and I won’t be able to have that feeling of accomplishment that comes from expressing yourself in another language. I won’t be able to run by the river, and taking the train will be replaced by riding in a car. Of course, these gaps will eventually be filled by things that I can’t experience here, and I take solace in the idea of holding a fly rod again, of seeing my family, and sitting out in my backyard on a summer’s night with the smell of barbeques and dogs’ barks filling the dry air. Little things like this can go on and on, back and forth…tennis matches between reality and fantasy. I’m also well aware that I’m not the first person in history to make a big transition, to grit his teeth while trying to make a little fucking sense of what the fuck he is feeling right now.

But, why can’t I just take every single person I’ve ever loved, felt tender towards, or with whom I’ve had a connection, and escape up to a cabin in the woods and live there forever? Oh right, I forgot. Life!

But, maybe I’m thinking about this all wrong. Maybe all these people are like songs. Some of them are long and will remain precious to me for the rest of my life. Some of them might be short, speaking only to a transient phase in my life that leaves as quickly as it comes, like cutting holes in your jeans or being a rebel. The genres are always different, and the instruments too many to name. Some songs are loud and obnoxious, but you like them anyway. Some you listen to only once, regardless of how many times you’ve pledged to listen to them again. Some just don’t fit your taste, and some just click in that spot in your heart where things notoriously click. There will be plenty more songs, and there will be songs that you don’t listen to for twenty years, and then when you do, you remember not a name or a sound, but a smell. Remembering some songs makes you painfully happy while remembering others happily brings you pain.

Some songs even greet you by singing “Johhnnnnyy Annngeeelll!”

A few weeks ago, at my going away party with the International Exchange Center folks, someone asked me who I will miss the most. I, of course, named Mr. Snoogles. He smiled at this like a teacher would when he knows he’s done a good job, and leaned back in his chair with a look of satisfaction and omnipotence, his arms folded across his chest.