Banality and Haiku

I disdain the ordinary. As I view influencers snapping pictures of their cocktails in allegedly hip bars, I often snicker. I mock their attempts to monetize triviality. I am like “Henri le chat noir”, the star of the eponymous satire of French continental philosophy. I also express lofty disdain for the banal. So, I subscribe to MUBI, not Netflix. I shun Taylor Swift in favour of jazz greats like Betty Carter. Yet are Henri and I not at least as petty as the objects of our haute bile?

I’ve dabbled with Zen enough to know that the path to wisdom lies in a correct relationship with whatever is around me. I need not go to a modern art museum to penetrate reality. Yet, there I find reassurance that thoughts and perceptions that are less ordinary have a place in this world.

So, perhaps my angry rejection of the banal is revenge for the rejections I’ve suffered, and the lies I’ve told to fit into a world I dislike. My mother told me I’m sensitive. As I explored haiku, I saw what she perceived was likely my “haiku attitude.” This attitude is described in Kenneth Yasuda’s book “The Japanese Haiku.” It involves the observer and the observed becoming one. It is a fragile state, and when it is examined, it is lost.

It is no wonder that my highly scientific father perceived this as a danger. Little power or profit is obtained by immersing oneself in experience. Instead, he wanted me to intellectually analyze and exploit my environment, especially my academic surroundings. So, I suppressed this part of myself to gain his approval.

Now that I am comfortably retired, I can welcome it back and gently seek to make amends. My new blog is one way I share the fruits of this rekindled relationship. Further, I’m encouraged by the community of like-minded seekers I am discovering on WordPress. Perhaps here my authentic nature can find a home. As it does, my disdain for banality can dissipate.