Whisper of the Heart: A Catharsis

A writer's desparate attempt to release a strong emotion long due late, while trying to hide it through humor writing

Humanity has come a long way.

We went; from sending mere tones, to send messages; to making actual devices that show moving pictures, just to tell other people - who's on the other side of the globe - that they forgot to tell them about the pictures of the places in that particular side, in which the respondent engages by responding back �"sending moving pictures of their own.

We went; from exploring the globe, to find out if it’s round or flat; to sending actual people to space, to unravel an even more sophisticated mystery.

We, indeed, have come a long way �"that it pains me to ask; why are the credentials of being human has become only a question of mere compassion or commiseration? - you know?

It’s not that I have anything against it. It’s just that �"I don’t get it.

I don’t get that you’d be considered a species of a lower spectrum, when you don’t show any sign of sadness when displayed with an unpleasant experience. I mean - yeah sure - they might be a little dead inside, but come on! - There are people killing for a living; worse �"there are people killing for sport; and worst �"there are people killing for sport, and making that their living.

I mean, would you really rank a person, who never felt any sign of compassion for the thing that had been killed, lower than the one who did the deed? - if that is how it works…

Why?

I mean, even if you put that person - who felt a little cold - on the same level of spectrum with the killer; lower than the rest �"I still can’t see why the person needs be put on the same level.

Am I getting it right or not? Or maybe, the killer would be a level lower than the person �"who unfortunately wasn’t feeling ‘compassion-y’ that dreadful day - to make the person feel better, however the person would still be a level lower than the rest.

Discussion Question: how would that make the person feel better?

They shouldn’t have gone a level lower than the rest - yes, even the killer. There’s a thing called ‘REPENTANCE’ right? - isn't that what they teach in church? - or have I not been attending church way too many a times that they’ve changed the content of the teachings with this insane sophisticated formula?

The thing is, I don’t think anyone should make that as the ‘SOLE’ basis of being human �"to the point that you’d be bothered with questions regarding your reaction exhibited from the circumstances that happened in one particular film - you know what I mean.

Like, when people ask you, if you’ve seen that Korean film ‘Miracle In Cell no. 7’ - which I haven’t - they'd be all up on your s**t, describing what kind of terrible human being you are, after specifically telling them, you haven’t �"which I did.

Don’t you just hate it, when people base their whole rubrics of your humanity on your reaction towards a particular woeful story?

You’re lucky if you haven’t been asked those questions like that.

I have - in annoying amount of times - and I hate every single bit of it, being a self-proclaimed altruist and all, but just in case you are curious to what my actions are after those line of questions: nothing �"USUALLY.

Then I give a smirk, and a laugh - a small laugh - out of pity, the ones where you don’t actually laugh, instead, release a volume of air - making sure your audience hears the sound of friction the air composes as it makes its way out of your system - that laugh. That way they’ll think that you’re being sarcastic and not really interested in the question that they won’t indulge deeply even more.

If you’re wondering, why this not-a-usual-cynic writer started off this writing with such a specific testimony �"well, my friend, let me tell you the story that came to be the prologue of this literary composition.

It was a Wednesday, and Wednesdays are Fencing Practice days. My friend, who introduced me to Fencing, and I had, like, a video shoot for a project in one of our classes that day.

The shoot finished around almost six early-evening, in which we started around thirty minutes passed three; an hour after our Fencing practice, in which started usually around twelve in the afternoon �"which I attended an hour late because of reasons.

So, it was about six, and I had nowhere to go - I was waiting for my other friend’s text; if he wanted to hitch a ride with me with our other friend�"and he was taking forever to text back. Just a simple yes, or no, would have sufficed.

Fortunately for me, my friend - that friend who introduced me to Fencing - had plans of going to this bar over the other side of town, with his friends, around thirty minutes passed seven. There was an event. And they all want to go and participate. The event was produced to commemorate the works of Hayao Miyazaki.

(Ever heard of Hayao Miyazaki? If ‘Yup, I know him’ is your answer, then good; if ‘I think I’ve heard of him before’, not good enough; if… - you know what? I just decided, ‘Yup, I know him’ isn’t enough, the correct answer to that should be, ‘Yup, I know him! And I love him so mucchhhhhhhhhhh!!!1!!’ Losing my train of thought, anyways - ...but if you’re answer is ‘nope, never heard of the guy. Is he like a celebrity or something?’ �"my friend, you should kill yourself.

jk lol.

Don’t kill yourself �"you’re missing out and that’s a burden enough; but to give you a glimpse of his awesomeness: go to one of your cat-loving friends, and ask if they’ve seen ‘My Neighbor, Totoro’. If they don’t stop yapping about that film or other films made by Hayao Miyazaki - that they’ll just pull in the conversation out of nowhere - after they hear the name ‘Totoro’; I give you Hayao Miyazaki’s fan base.)

Well, since it was a tad bit early for me to ditch my other friend who won’t text back, I decided: to hell with it, I’ll wait ‘til 7:30 for my other friend’s text. If not, hope this Miyazaki event would be lit.

And so, I waited. And as predictable as it is, my other friend did not text back that-that sealed my fate: to the Miyazaki event it is.

As we get to the place, I was taken aback. I thought we were going to a museum or such, that praise-worthy-fan-made art are exhibited �"yet, I was left there, standing outside of a drinking bar.

I think this was easily my fault for overhyping the event, my friend - that friend who introduced me to Fencing - did tell me, it’s just a bar. I blame my euphoria for over stimulating things.

Anyways, we get there. And as I step inside, you’ll see that it’s not like most of the other bars. It’s quite not as wild; there’s just something about it that you’ll just feel the soul. I don’t know. I think I’m over stimulating things again, but that’s what I felt.

So, we get to this table and placed ourselves comfortably there, and adjacent to this table was the objective of the event. There was a memorial. For Hayao Miyazaki.

There were nine artworks - arranged in three columns by three rows - each canvas representing one of Miyazaki’s well-known films, except for the canvas on the center �"it was a fan-made portrait of the famed film maker. All nine artworks were parts of one whole art piece, in itself. It was beautiful.

So, being big fans of Hayao Miyazaki, the people that were with me took their phones and tried to immortalize the memorial even more by taking a photo of the art piece. I wasn’t as big a fan as they were - yes, there’s a special place in hell for hypocrites - I stayed on my seat.

Seeing a line-up of visual representations of few of Hayao Miyazaki’s films, with just a little movement with our heads, you just cannot NOT start talking about his films as the first topic in your table’s conversation; and so, that is what happened.

The conversation moved; from, what was each person’s favorite film, made by the studio produced by the subject film maker; to eventually, what was the most heart-wrenching film, made by the same studio produced by the same subject film maker �"to which everyone agreed: ‘The Grave of the Fireflies’.

(If you have heard of Miyazaki, then you’ve probably heard of ‘The Grave of the Fireflies’. I will not expound on the film’s plot, in respect of not spoiling those poor souls who’ve not yet seen this amazing heart-wrenching film - again, I pity you - and to those who have, and have friends who don’t smolder them if they cried or they not after seeing the film - I envy you.)

And with that film brought up, it’s hard not to ask ‘if one cried or did not’ after viewing the film �"which usually gets a resounding ‘yes’ from everyone, with tears seemingly ready to fall from their eye sockets. Boohoo.

(That being said, that is one of the best example of the questions that - over the years - had become the standard criteria for one’s humanity, and a test of one’s level of compassion. In normal situations, I don’t answer, as I have stated above, but in this case, I can confirm and confidently say: No.)

There’s just something in the question that I just cannot JUST SHRUG OFF. There is something inside me that’s pushing me to answer to this question: a NO; that however the question, “Did you cry after watching this film?�"“ is re-arranged, rephrased, or retranslated, I should always answer a NO - no matter what - may their reactions be, “How COLD could you possibly get?” or “Don’t you have a HEART?”

And that’s what I did after being asked, “Did you cry after watching this film?-” and as predicted enough, those were their reactions. And as I have stated above, I just smiled - right after - then gave a laugh the small laugh of pity - hoping they won’t indulge even more. And as usual, they did not.

With that, I end the story, because finally, you’ve come to the part of this literary composition: the reason behind - writing and letting you read - that particular tale.

This thing that I’ve been meaning to tell you - right off when I started conceptualizing for this essay - hidden with humor, this writer had the difficulty of writing �"in sole purpose of confusing the reader for what truly is the reason behind this literary art work - my CATHARSIS.

It’s not that I don’t find the film, tragic - NO, it’s not that I’m apathetic nor am I inhumane - NO. It’s just that-when you’ve experienced a death of a loved one - and no, not just anyone from your family, but the one that raised you to what and who you are right now; the one that loved cooking you breakfast despite the number of kitchen helpers you had in your household; the one that went to your football games despite having an important meeting for their work; the one that apologizes sincerely when they forget to buy you what you asked them, then turns and goes to buy it the next day to make up for it; the one that prioritized your well-being more than their own that even sickness could not stop them from spoiling you - yup, THAT LOVED ONE.

- that after the loss of THAT LOVED ONE, your life is just not the same anymore.

- that every day passed the day of THAT LOVED ONE’s passing, your already-broken heart breaks even more that it gets a lot more difficult to fix. DAY. AFTER. DAY. AFTER. FREAKING. DAY.

- that every time you reminisce of the happiest times you have had with THAT LOVED ONE �"not even the funniest comic comes close to giving you that same feeling of BLISS.

- that every time you remember the day that THAT LOVED ONE left you for good �"not even the greatest of all story tellers come close to giving you that same feeling of SORROW.

- that your life, after their death becomes the EPITOME of TRAGEDY.

With that, I end my essay.

And as I finish this six-year-late emotional purging, my heart whispers:

FIN

© 2015 Adrian Frederick Adam

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Philip Muls

An emotional purging, very necessary sometimes. Some very original thinking, powered by emotion.

That 'loved one', the legendary girlfriend, the one that got away. Believe me you are not alone in this...Please read my story Lovesick if you find the time.

Well done. Take care.