In Haruki Murakami’s novel, ‘Killing Commendatore,’ an artist is on the run from himself after his wife told him she does not want to live with him anymore. Not having had success with abstract paintings, he settled for painting portraits on commission for a living. His clients were not required to sit still for hours, days and weeks on end, just a confessional interview, supplemented by a few family snapshots would do. To maintain the integrity of his work, the artist looked for what was shining from within a person.
While driving aimlessly north, to gain distance from imagined scenes of his wife in the arms of a lover, he occasionally stops at roadside restaurants. In a restroom he finds himself staring at his image in a mirror, and wonders …
‘Who the hell am I … were I to paint myself, would I be able to discover even one thing shining within me?’
This is not a review; I haven’t got far into this long novel, just to say, I like how Murakami masters the slow and subtle development of a theme.
I read in printed books in bed for an hour before sleep. At pivotal points in the text, like the one above, I close the book and take the thought into my dreams. Once I hit the cushion and allow my muscles to relax, my mind holds the thought that made me stop reading.
As for the above thought: what shines from within, I pondered that this shine, or whatever else one might choose to call it, is what I’m looking for in nature, in art, in friends, or new acquaintances, and in myself. These moments when I glimpse something shining, visibly or just felt, without or within, are of essence, and leave a deep impression, adding a thread of light to the tapestry of my existence. These are also moments when associations, informed by my senses, flow like a sparkling mountain stream.
When such impression fades it upsets me. Distance and time are not at fault. My intuition tells me that the conscious fabric of my existence extends way beyond space-and time. Where people are concerned, the fading could be due to a lingering hurt or misunderstanding. Once I’ve been able to perceive an inner shining, I grieve the loss of a dimming connection.
It made me think how in relation to a few people in my life I’ve let my heart mirror collect dust. Maybe the other begun to let my shine fade, but that’s no excuse. I can’t change how people mirror me, but if so inclined, I could bring clarity to my own heart mirror.
How do we resurrect that shine, the light which illuminates who we are from under the debris of relationships, within ourselves, others, nature? I guess much flows from the first gaze that beholds us.
In Sufi terms this is polishing the mirror of the heart, which generates life and beauty.
You, dear readers, may have more or other thoughts on this search for what ‘shines’ from under surfaces If so, please share.
It warms my heart to think that readers of my novels might come upon a sentence that makes them pause and ponder a meaning for themselves, a bit like finding a jewel in a generous setting.
Course of Mirrors 
Oh, I love it when synchronicity strikes as today I find myself writing all about ‘mirrors’ and how a series of dreams this summer has polished the mirror of my own heart! Thank you so much for sharing this post with us Ashen, it’s beautiful and wise and there’s so much to muse upon. Love and (mirror) light, Deborah.
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Thank you, Deborah. I’m pleased my post resonated with where you’re at. ☼
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A beautiful post. Both the quote and your reflections are so impactful, and an absolute pleasure to read. Your final paragraph in particular really touched a chord. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
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Thank you, Damyanti. Your comment warms my heart ☼
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Ashen, I can relate to your feeling that: ‘My intuition tells me that the conscious fabric of my existence extends way beyond space-and time.’ I am touched by your beautiful reflections on what shines within and indeed, those occasions are a spiritual awkening, an epiphany – and what a tender image to polishing the mirror of the heart.
I realise I’ve never read any books by Haruki Murakami but your mention of ‘Killing Commendatore’ has me thoroughly intrigued – one I will check out.
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Thank you, Annika. The polishing of the heart is a Sufi term/image I like, since it depicts the life-long work to clear the mirror of our perception.
Murakami suggests Norwegian Wood is his easiest to read book. ‘Killing Commendatore’ is a very long read, and since I read slowly, in bed, chapter by chapter it is presently my night meditation. I have allowed myself to be mesmerised.
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Norwegian Wood is a book I’ve been considering reading and interesting that the author too suggest reading this one first. Your nightly chapters seem peaceful and illuminating.
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Thankyou Ashen….and apologies for my late response to your post.
Interestingly, I opened an email this morning that I feel relates to what you are saying. I don’t know if you also received it but here it is:
“This that
passes between us
without our
knowing how,
this unbearable
recognition,
makes life
worth the trouble.”
Suffice it to say that “us” of course implies to two entities, neither of which need to be human.
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Yes, I received this Sunday flash, and it made me pause.
Thanks for sharing the way you relate to it. ♥
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