ON SEEING THE 100% PERFECT GIRL ONE BEAUTIFUL APRIL MORNING

by Haruki Murakami
One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo’s fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.

Tell you the truth, she’s not that good-looking. She doesn’t stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn’t young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a “girl,” properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She’s the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there’s a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you’re drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I’ll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.

But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can’t recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It’s weird.

“Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl,” I tell someone.

“Yeah?” he says. “Good-looking?”

“Not really.”

“Your favorite type, then?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts.”

“Strange.”

“Yeah. Strange.”

“So anyhow,” he says, already bored, “what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?”

“Nah. Just passed her on the street.”

She’s walking east to west, and I west to east. It’s a really nice April morning.

Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I’d really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.

After talking, we’d have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.

How can I approach her? What should I say?

“Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?”

Ridiculous. I’d sound like an insurance salesman.

“Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?”

No, this is just as ridiculous. I’m not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who’s going to buy a line like that?

Maybe the simple truth would do. “Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me.”

No, she wouldn’t believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you’re not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I’d probably go to pieces. I’d never recover from the shock. I’m thirty-two, and that’s what growing older is all about.

We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can’t bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She’s written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she’s ever had.

I take a few more strides and turn: She’s lost in the crowd.

Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.

Oh, well. It would have started “Once upon a time” and ended “A sad story, don’t you think?”

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.

One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.

“This is amazing,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you’re the 100% perfect girl for me.”

“And you,” she said to him, “are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I’d pictured you in every detail. It’s like a dream.”

They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It’s a miracle, a cosmic miracle.

As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one’s dreams to come true so easily?

And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, “Let’s test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other’s 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we’ll marry then and there. What do you think?”

“Yes,” she said, “that is exactly what we should do.”

And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.

The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other’s 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.

One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season’s terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence’s piggy bank.

They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.

Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.

One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:

She is the 100% perfect girl for me.

He is the 100% perfect boy for me.

But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.

A sad story, don’t you think?

Yes, that’s it, that is what I should have said to her.

Machismo..

I decided to post my thoughts on an issue that affects Latino culture immensely, but for some reason is rarely talked about in the media, or discussed in Hispanics family's.  Machismo can be very detrimental to the Latino community, to our families, and to our success as a people at large.  Although there are negatives associated with it--there are also positives, that if we emphasize, we can take something that seems like a weakness, and turn it into a strength!

A dictionary definition defines machismo as: "a strong or exaggerated sense of manliness; an assumptive attitude that virility, courage, strength, and entitlement to dominate are attributes or concomitants of masculinity."

Machismo is simply an exaggerated, or idealized version of what it means to be a man. The positive aspect of machismo is someone who provides for his family, a person who works hard to put food on the table, a protector, a man that is strong-physically and emotionally--a man of faith.

While the negatives of machismo, are one who is domineering (because it is his right to be), one who is possessive, aggressive, treats women like garbage, uses them, is arrogant and too proud to admit he is wrong, hyper-sexual, and abusive.

I have personally seen both of these aspects of machismo played out among my own family and friends, and when I see the negative side of it, it saddens me. Mostly because I know that these things are often passed on from one generation to another, and they do nothing but harm families, and break, what would otherwise be strong family bonds. 

The fact that it is particular to Hispanic families is also something especially hurtful. While each culture has its gender roles, and many of them are also negative, and detrimental, this one hits very close to home. No one can ever truly embody all of what our society expects of the so called perfect man, or even the perfect women (think Marianismo, which is actually based on Latino women embodying the traits of the Virgin of Guadalupe)-they simply do not exist!

I really hope that every Hispanic young man can come to realize that a true man is one that is patient, kind, gentle, good to his spouse, treats his girlfriend, wife, etc with respect and dignity--that he values her feelings, recognizes her as a unique individual, and as such, one who has a right to what all people want and deserve. 

Once an individual recognizes the negative aspects of something that has been so ingrained into our culture, that has been passed on from one generation to the next, for hundreds of years, he can do something to stop it. I am asking every Latino to embrace machismo, not disregard it, but embrace the positive aspects of it, the things that build up, and do not break down. That to be a man of faith, a man that follows Christ, is not weak, that one who turns the other cheek is actually stronger than one who resorts to violence. 


God bless.

 
-Chris.


 

On the Eucharist...

 “..The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’There is no commandment greater than these...” (Mark 12:28-31)

When asked, “..Of all the commandments, which is the most important?” Jesus Christ echoed the words of the Torah--in the Jewish peoples most important and defining prayer, the Shema, as well as the ideal found throughout the old testament, to treat thy neighbor as thyself, and to love the stranger, "..for you were a stranger in the land of Egypt." (Exodus 22:21)

When we partake in the Eucharist, we affirm the words of Christ--the idea that we must love God, and our neighbor.

The bread and wine we consume is said to be that of Jesus Christ--his body, soul, and divinity. this is a very strange concept to any outsider, and there are even those who have taken communion many times, without knowing the theology behind it. 

If we literally eat the body and blood of Christ Jesus, we are literally a part of God--we are all part of the body of Christ, as the new testament says so many times, and we are all truly one, as echoed in Exodus, Adonai echad, "..hear Israel I am God, I am ONE."

Partaking in communion makes us all a part of an incredible oneness. We become one body, one people, we are truly, the body of Christ. We are then called, after mass, to go out to the world and share the gift we have been given. If you love thy neighbor as thyself, you are loving God, and if you love God, you love thy neighbor.  We would never harm our own body, so why, would we ever harm another person? 

Christians often-times forget that Christ's message was one of love and forgiveness, kindness, and gentleness, not just towards those in your family and close circle of friends, but towards your enemies. Next time you leave church, remember to see the face of Christ in all people, and in all of Gods creation!

This is the message of the gospel--the revolutionary message of Jesus Christ. 



God bless.