Cliches have always been a big part of daily conversation. Social media has made them obnoxiously prevalent. While my current least favorite cliche is "to the moon and back," not only for its eye-roll-inducing silliness, but for the ignored limitation on one's claim. In a universe so vast and wide, the trip to the moon and back is quite short in comparison to say, anywhere else. So why would anyone boast their love or feelings only spans where man has been?
While watching Akira Kurosawa's Ikiru, which means "To Live," it dawned on me that our view, Americans that is, is very limited. Think of a similar movie in American cinema and one immediately comes to the Christmas classic It's a Wonderful Life. If one were to be aware of their impending doom or, in the case of George Bailey, see life if he'd never existed, you quickly realize that the bulk of the Capra movie is about self-adulation and ego. Sure, it's shown through flashbacks of selflessness, but in the end, the film is about George coming to terms with his self-worth. In Kurosawa's talk, Shimura's character has spent an entire life of service to others, mostly his job, superiors, and government. It's not until his finding out about his terminal illness that he embraces a few days of not necessarily selfishness, but living his own life. What he realizes is that life only has meaning in bringing happiness to others, something he had secured for his son, despite the elder child's doubts. He does the smallest things for others, but where the film is so clever, is that it uses selfishness to end several scenes. It's not until the man realizes that true altruism is what will bring him joy, that he can enjoy that beauty which surrounds him. His wake/eulogy brings me back to a quote credited to Jackie Robinson, although I'm sure it had been said by those who came before him; "A life is not important except in the impact it has on others." Shumirua's character and those who will be affected by his last days prove, not only for this to be true, but that man, if truly living each day as if it were his last, would not feel the guilt or shame that selfishness brings upon us.
I've also thought about this quote in terms of my life and wonder if the stress of knowing my time was limited would change me. Would I want to eat differently or treat others with a reverence that had never occurred to me previously? Would I want to give up my solitude and my joy of reading and viewing film? Would I not want to doze off after one too many vodkas, enjoying a handful of hours of blissful sleep? Why would I want the stress of knowing the end was near to impact on life's simple pleasures? Why would I want my impending doom to make others worry (something Kurosawa is skillfully adept at handling)? Would I want my finale moments to be grandiose or subtle?
I speak often of acknowledgment, but simply as part of this social contract we break daily. This religious value system that has been embedded in all of us, despite the fact, those who teach us, don't actually follow these tules. We, as humans, do not need praise or accolades, but merely acceptance. It's a minor form of love, often between strangers, and it matters. If you don't believe it, think about the number of times a checkout line has allowed you to use their pennies to adjust the change. It's the silliest thing on Earth (pennies), but it matters when it happens. I often think that is how I would like to spend my last few days. That minimal effort we so often ignore that truly does make a difference. I do not wish to think that knowledge of my death would open my eyes to my own selfish ways n any way that brings about guilt to do good deeds.
Isn't that what the quote really intends?
While watching Akira Kurosawa's Ikiru, which means "To Live," it dawned on me that our view, Americans that is, is very limited. Think of a similar movie in American cinema and one immediately comes to the Christmas classic It's a Wonderful Life. If one were to be aware of their impending doom or, in the case of George Bailey, see life if he'd never existed, you quickly realize that the bulk of the Capra movie is about self-adulation and ego. Sure, it's shown through flashbacks of selflessness, but in the end, the film is about George coming to terms with his self-worth. In Kurosawa's talk, Shimura's character has spent an entire life of service to others, mostly his job, superiors, and government. It's not until his finding out about his terminal illness that he embraces a few days of not necessarily selfishness, but living his own life. What he realizes is that life only has meaning in bringing happiness to others, something he had secured for his son, despite the elder child's doubts. He does the smallest things for others, but where the film is so clever, is that it uses selfishness to end several scenes. It's not until the man realizes that true altruism is what will bring him joy, that he can enjoy that beauty which surrounds him. His wake/eulogy brings me back to a quote credited to Jackie Robinson, although I'm sure it had been said by those who came before him; "A life is not important except in the impact it has on others." Shumirua's character and those who will be affected by his last days prove, not only for this to be true, but that man, if truly living each day as if it were his last, would not feel the guilt or shame that selfishness brings upon us.
I've also thought about this quote in terms of my life and wonder if the stress of knowing my time was limited would change me. Would I want to eat differently or treat others with a reverence that had never occurred to me previously? Would I want to give up my solitude and my joy of reading and viewing film? Would I not want to doze off after one too many vodkas, enjoying a handful of hours of blissful sleep? Why would I want the stress of knowing the end was near to impact on life's simple pleasures? Why would I want my impending doom to make others worry (something Kurosawa is skillfully adept at handling)? Would I want my finale moments to be grandiose or subtle?
I speak often of acknowledgment, but simply as part of this social contract we break daily. This religious value system that has been embedded in all of us, despite the fact, those who teach us, don't actually follow these tules. We, as humans, do not need praise or accolades, but merely acceptance. It's a minor form of love, often between strangers, and it matters. If you don't believe it, think about the number of times a checkout line has allowed you to use their pennies to adjust the change. It's the silliest thing on Earth (pennies), but it matters when it happens. I often think that is how I would like to spend my last few days. That minimal effort we so often ignore that truly does make a difference. I do not wish to think that knowledge of my death would open my eyes to my own selfish ways n any way that brings about guilt to do good deeds.
Isn't that what the quote really intends?
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