Prayer for Love and Mercy

 Last time, I mentioned that there are countless vital jobs—jobs that keep things running even if they don't put you in the spotlight. While writing that, I suddenly thought of the work done by lighting technicians, so I wanted to share a few thoughts on that. Lighting technicians are the people responsible for stage lighting. Their job is literally to *cast* the spotlight, not to stand in it. I recently attended a collaborative concert featuring a pair of brothers who play the Tsugaru-shamisen and another pair who perform piano duets. At one point, I found myself thinking, "The lighting is beautiful; they’re doing a fantastic job." People don't usually pay much attention to the lighting during a performance, I suppose. I’ve worked in the theater world a bit myself; while the performers are the stars, they are supported by specialized staff—lighting, sound, stage managers, and those handling sets and props. You hire these people individually, and since they are true a...

 I previously reflected on the nature of jealousy, but realizing there was more to say, I decided to continue the discussion here. When it comes to jealousy, the analogy of brain cells versus foot cells works well if the roles are distinct—but what happens when the roles are the same? In other words, when two parties are in direct competition. In such scenarios, there is a handful of winners and a vast number of losers. The more attractive the goal, the greater the number of defeated contenders left in the wake—a veritable mountain of the fallen. However, because the competition pushes rivals to hone their skills against one another, the overall standard inevitably rises. Consequently, the level of the eventual winner rises as well. And if that winner goes on to fulfill a role in society, their contribution to society naturally increases. In short, competition boosts the performance of humanity as a whole. Even those defeated contenders—who form that mountain of the fallen—indirect...

 I think everyone experiences jealousy, but isn't it truly awful to have to listen to someone else expressing their jealousy toward another person? I have feelings of jealousy too, of course, but the unpleasantness of realizing, "Oh, I'm jealous of someone right now"—it’s just... "I'm the worst. I have no right to talk about love." Not being able to genuinely rejoice in someone else's success—it makes me realize just how small-minded I am. And the unpleasantness of hearing *someone else* express jealousy toward another person... It’s painful, sad, poignant, excruciating, helpless, and utterly hopeless. It just leaves you feeling incredibly, deeply sad. Everyone feels jealousy, I suppose, but it’s best not to voice it to others. It makes everyone around you feel like giving up on everything. It feels like a massive wave of negative energy spreading rapidly within a radius of several hundred meters. So, where does this jealousy come from? It stems from...

  In a post from a while back , I touched upon a passage from the *Analects* stating that the essence of Confucian teaching lies solely in *chūjo* (loyalty and reciprocity), and I wrote that this *chūjo* might actually be love; Ito Jinsai has provided an answer to that idea. "Among all virtues, *Ren* (benevolence/humaneness) is the greatest. Yet, if one were to sum it up in a single word, it is love itself." "When an action stems from love, it is genuine; when it does not, it is merely a sham. Thus, the *kunshi* (a person of virtue) cherishes a heart of compassion above all else and deeply laments any trace of cruelty or heartlessness." "When a heart of compassion permeates and suffuses everything, leaving no room for cruelty or callousness—that is what we call *Ren*." "It exists in every fleeting moment and remains active even while one sleeps; love is ever-present in the heart, filling it completely until heart and love become one—this is *Ren*. The...

 I’ve realized that loving others is the right path. So, let’s put that into practice right away. And the first person to catch my eye was... There she was: my wife. Hey, why not my wife? She’s a real person, after all. Besides, we started out as total strangers with no blood ties—she’s just another human being, just like anyone else. Mind you, she’s a pretty tough opponent. She flies off the handle at the drop of a hat. "You know, Mom, you get hysterical over the tiniest things and snap instantly. You’re a total 'landmine'—the kind of woman who’s a walking disaster waiting to explode. I’d never want a girlfriend like you! I feel sorry for Dad." My son actually said that to her the other day. She was understandably shocked; her jaw dropped, and she stood there dumbfounded for a moment. "Well said, son." I was right there, slapping the table and laughing my head off. It was incredibly satisfying. This woman speaks a rather unique dialect. Whenever an annivers...

 I’ve caught a glimpse of that light of mercy once again. Or so I’d like to say, but the truth is, I didn’t actually see it this time. Still, it felt essentially the same. I really *did* see it before, though. This time was a bit different—a feeling that sort of gently seeped in. Someone once said: "Faith like fire won't do; it must be faith like water." It was that kind of sensation—seeping in like water. Who was it that said that? Let me see... ah, I remember: "Shin'ichi Yamamoto." Now, I feel like I might end up like that refined gentleman of old (Ariwara no Narihira), finding myself: "Overwhelmed by emotion, words fail me." But there’s no helping it given my clumsy writing skills. I’m writing this fully aware that I probably won't be able to convey it properly. "The Master's Way consists of nothing but *chū* and *jo* (loyalty and empathy)." (*The Analects*) Ito Jinsai’s commentary: "*Chū* means devoting oneself entirely; ...