Himiko and I

So back in the ancient times of Japan there may or may not of been a shaman queen by the name of Himiko. Himiko is a rather controversial historical figure mostly because while in old Chinese history books she acts as a sort of ambassador of Japan to China, in old Japanese history books she is not really mentioned. It is something I am sure many history nerds argue about nightly, but it all becomes a little more serious when she may have been haunting me this past year.

I am not a superstitious person by nature and I don`t really believe in ghosts, though I am beginning to suspect that is what all superstitious people who believe in ghosts think, but over these past few months my life seems to have had a rather large amount of not really great things happen to me. Nothing life-threatening (though I thought they were, mostly because I can be a big baby), but things that made me take notice and really analyze things in my life. It was then, in a possible irrational response, that I looked upon the magatama hanging on my wall and thought perhaps I should "cast it into Mt. Doom" as it were.

For those people who are unfamiliar, a magatama is a half crescent shape (much like half of a yin-yang) that one can wear as an accessory. They were first discovered on archaeological digs in Japan and usually date back to the ancient Jomon period or earlier. There is some arguments about where and who exactly made them, but they usually have rather shamanic implications and because of that, usually connected to Himiko due to her famous (maybe infamous) place in history.

Last year I found one of these magatama at the Takachiho Gorge, known for its various connections to Japanese legends, and now is mostly legendary for its beauty and its ability to trap tourists. They have a box near the entrance of the gorge full of magatama and I decided that I should get one because of my knowledge of Japanese history. Also I needed more crap to hang on my wall. The box was unmanned and just had a sign that read "one for 100 yen" which I thought was a just a little too expensive for what amounted to a small lump of clay with a purple string attached. I figured that the 100 yen was more of a "suggested price" and put 20 yen into the change bucket next to the box. I had my own cheap keepsake from my first time at the T-gorge. Little did I know THE HORRORS I WOULD BRING UPON MYSELF!

Well, not really. It is not like I died, or had any irreparable damage, it is just as if all my luck had ran out. For example, last winter I had absolutely no problems with my car with snow at all, but then this winter it got so bad that I had to start taking the bus to work. Then there has been just a lot of downers and bummers in my life, nothing horrible, but it was becoming that horrible cliche of "too many straws on one camel." Also, advice for those not in the know, try not to get too involved in the Japanese hospital system unless you know for a fact something is wrong with you. There is an expression in Japanese あり地獄 which translates to "ant hell," which pretty much sums up that experience quite nicely.

As the weeks went by, the magatama became almost like a "tell tale heart," but hung up right beside my bed instead of my floorboard. I am not sure if Mrs. Haneda would`ve liked a magatama on her ceiling anyway. I looked at it every night and the more my troubles gathered, the more I felt guilty about it. Then one day, trying to relax, I picked out a random book at my local school library. I usually don`t do this because most of the books are written in this CRAZY LANGUAGE but I did manage to find a comic book. It just so happened to be Osamu Tezuka`s Phoenix Vol. 1. It is a rather long series of graphic novels that span human history, and it just so happened to start in ancient Japan with good ole` Himiko. I took this as a sign. Though, I suppose that if a spirit did or could haunt this magatama, it really could`ve been any shaman, but I figured that, from reading Mr. Tezuka`s interpretation of Himiko`s character, she was the only one petty enough to haunt me for a lousy 80 yen.

So I had a mission, I had to return the cursed artifact, and pay up the 100 yen, then my life would return to normal. Golden Week came around, and it gave me a weekend and three vacation days to return the magatama. One of my fellow English teachers offered to give me a tour of Takachiho on the Tuesday of that vacation, and I figured we could go to the gorge, go to a party with a few friends, and make a perfect evening. Things didn`t go as planned (of course!) and I ended up not going to the gorge, and having to deal with a uncooperative drunk friend who refused to use certain taxis to go home. I didn`t end up drinking due to not wanting to test my luck, to be completely honest, and it was an interesting experience because I usually find myself being that "drunk friend," but at least I am super cooperative.

Anyway, I found myself in the middle of Takachiho, at 11:30 PM on a Tuesday night. I probably should have just gone home, but I convinced that this would solve all my problems if I could just find that box and return it. Also, I didn`t want to waste gas going back to Takachiho in the morning, so I drove to a close parking lot, and decided to walk the 500 meters to the gorge. Now, Takachiho is not exactly a night town. It has bars open late, but the area next to the gorge is completely shut down, and the walkway there is practically pitch black. I had to use my ipod to have any source of light down the tiny winding road to the gorge. I began to listen to This American Life as I walked down the path to calm my nerves, clutching the cursed magatama, just so it doesn`t escape me before my destination in some misguided attempt at escape. I was only half listening to the NPR podcast when the line "...because I learned that I always can`t be right" flooded my ears. I wasn`t quite sure the context why the radio-man said that, but it began to cast doubt on my whole pilgrimage, but I was already halfway down, and I wasn`t going back unless I exorcised something tonight.

I arrived to a place with light, and I could see the gorge. I looked at the sign, and double checked to make sure I got my kanji right to go to the right place, as I made my descent. Weird humming sounds and sound of pumping water began to make themselves heard as I neared the gorge. I eventually made it right to the railing which the darkened gorge was barely visible under the two or three lights that still shined. I walked around to get a good feel or my surroundings. I memorized the sign and the path that lead back to my car just in case I need to run out of the gorge for any reason. I found a sleeping taxi driver still in his car about 200 meters away, parking in front of a closed gift shop, and from there I started my search. I found the pond across the gorge with its little statue of gods, that during the daytime looked so cute, and now looked rather menacing. I looked around, trying to find the box with where they were selling the magatamas. I almost found myself walking a complete pitch black path, until I realized the truth, the stand where they sold the cursed things was right beside the pond! I found the stand the box and the change can was in, but both the box and the change can were nowhere to be found. I began to think maybe I was mistaken and the box was just somewhere else that I didn`t remember, but then I heard a switch flip somewhere, and the entire park went completely dark.

I stood still for a while, contemplating my decision to come down here, and how incredibly stupid it was. I didn`t really panic though, because my ipod was still playing This American Life, and somehow it had gotten to the part where Joss Whedon was playing a musical number about how film commentaries ruin the creative process, or something, and it wasn`t exactly "panic music." I decided maybe this was the ghost of Himiko giving me a sign to "PUT THE DAMN THING ON THE STAND ALREADY" and I fumbled through my change purse and got a hundred yen piece and put the magatama on the empty stand. I felt a very strange sense of accomplishment and I wondered how the person who found a cheap magatama and 100 yen would react. I hoped that he or she would put the items in their proper place, but I knew that my obligation in the matter had been cleared. I thanked myself for memorizing the way out before the lights went out, and used my rather useful ipod to illuminate the road out.

I was done, and I felt like something had been lifted from my chest. Finally I could live without the inconvenience of a curse from a cranky shaman. That was when I heard the car, and before I knew it, the car was heading straight in my direction. I was now walking up a very small road, and it could barely fit a single car, let alone a car and a pedestrian. I began to realize that this was a perfect opportunity to see if my luck had changed. I stuck to the wall, and I held my breath. All I could see is the headlights, as if the car was just some illusion of a whole body and was secretly just two prankster flashlights. I attempted to give my best "I dunno, sorry" face as the car passed me, with me completely unscathed. I took this as proof that finally my luck had finally turned around, and that I was complete idiot, but an uncursed idiot.

And today, I find myself enjoying this great weather as if I had never seen a summer before and rejoicing in the light and warmth that life can bring. Which goes to show you, sometimes you need an ancient Japanese ghost to show you the true value of being alive.

The Golem

No one told me that golems exist. Though it is hard to ask someone if something exists unless there is that question in the first place. Like, no one questions if tigers or lions exist. They just do. But with those, you can at least go to a zoo and see them. I suppose that I have never seen a squid in real life, but at least I have seen those on television. No, Golems are just one of those rare average things that people are just automatically supposed to know exist. Like a dodo bird or a trilobite. I am not even quite sure what a golem really is, all I know is that at 6th period today, one is going to visit my class.

I asked around my class today, and luckily, it seems that I am not the only one who didn`t know. Unfortunately, I don`t share great company. There`s Derrin, who would be the class bully if he had half the brains to be one, and Bryan, who daydreams so much, I am surprised he knows that anything exists. The more and more I hear about them the more I am confused. Are they made out of wood or stone? Are they really alive? Are they secretly robots from the future? I heard Ryan even has a golem in his house! Of course, if I believed everything that Ryan said, he also has a circus, a tank, and every book ever written, so I am not keen to take Ryan`s word for it.

I asked around to see if maybe dragons and wizards existed without my knowledge, but it turns out it is just golems. Which makes sense in a weird way. Well, no, it doesn`t, but I really can`t argue with what exists. It has been rumored that the golem`s name is "Robert Werich" which doesn`t really seem like much of a name for a golem. though I suppose the image in my mind of a golem is a huge mass of stone, mud, and wood, gathered together to make the shape of a giant man. I also heard that they can not speak, so I am not really even sure what it is going to do when it gets here.

I got to lunch and I discussed this problems to my friends Will and Bernard. Much to my amazement, they seemed to be more concerned with their own little arrangement of personal problems. Will was concerned that his mom seems to be packing less and less into his lunch, and Bernard was concerned that he wasn`t too worried about Grace not returning his affections. I couldn`t believe it. The world and everything I thought could and couldn`t exist has been turned on its head and the people I associate the most seem to be completely oblivious to it. I couldn`t decide whether that was more telling of my friends, or my own cluelessness. I tried to shift the conversation to what exactly a golem was, but they would always try to shift back to their own problems. We eventually hit a middle ground in discussing bands we have been listening too.

Lunch recess we did what we did every lunch break, we walked around the playground and talked. I know it isn`t what most of the normal kids do, but Will can`t run fast so we always end up being separated if we play tag or sports like the other kids do. Sometimes Will will mention how fun the conversation is and, "if we were running around with those dolts, we would be as dumb as them!" I`m not so sure, but Will has been my friend since kindergarden, and I don`t just want to leave him alone. And I sometimes wonder why Bernard hangs out with us, but I am beginning to think maybe we are the only ones with the patience to listen to him. It never really annoyed me before until right now. The idea of a golem just wading through my head like a ghost, every time I try to look at it, the vanishes away. I kept trying to interrupt him and all I got was him telling me I would know soon enough. I was scared, and suddenly my friends didn`t really seem like the pals they cracked up to be.
After lunch, 5th period rolled around. English. I did not especially like English normally, but with the gloom of the idea of a Golem over me, I was dreading the class even more. The teacher, Mr. Morris, always had a way of speaking down to me that I didn`t like. He would never shoot down an idea of mine, he would just dismiss it and move on. The worst was when at the parent-teacher conference he told my parents that I "don`t read in-between the lines enough." That is so stupid. Why don`t people just write what they mean? Well, okay, I know that sometimes you can`t always tell the truth 100% of the time (much like Derrin, who would get caught less if he just didn`t blabber to the teacher what prank he just pulled) but maybe if the books we read we a little more clear then maybe I wouldn`t ask so many darn questions about what the heck the story is about. We are reading Ivanhoe right now, and I have no idea what that book is about. Whatever it is about, Mr. Morris seems extra happy today for some reason. It was then that I heard a creaking noise.
It was a horrible sound. I thought it was the floor breaking, but then I realized that the creaking was coming from outside the classroom, and was getting closer. I held on to my desk for impact. The door opens, and in the doorway is a hulking mass. It was a moving pile of what looked like stone, but forming and deforming to fit through the door. I was glad I went to the bathroom before lunch, because if I didn`t, surely my pants would become unsuitable for wearing. Mr. Morris than declared that Mr. Werich is here to observe our class.
Whenever I think of golems, I think of them as just like a normal man, but made out of stone. Mr. Werich was more like a bunch of stones trying their best to take the shape of a man, but not quite succeeding. As he walked inside, he had an odd sort of grace that was the complete opposite of how he looked. He came closer to me and I involuntarily dropped my book on the floor. I was going to pick it up, but I was frozen in fear of the mass approaching my desk. The golem forms a hand and picks up the book.
"Ivanhoe, huh?" the Golem said in a voice that was much higher than I expected, "It`s a good book, but I don`t know if kids today can really relate to these types of things today, eh?"
The golem formed what I think was a smile, and gave me back my book. I tried not to stare, but he had a way of lurching through the desks as Mr. Morris was talking about something or another. How he would carefully avoid knocking into a desk, but then doing so, knock someone else`s stuff their desk. He was careful not to knock anyone with his giant frame, but couldn`t quite manage it. What really through me off was his voice. I expected some deep growl of rocks clashing together to form some sort of "stone speech," but I think Mr. Morris has a deeper voice than him. The golem also had this odd way of giggling whenever someone said something funny. It would be comforting, if it wasn`t coming from the huge rock monster.
I felt bad. Mr. Werich seemed like a good guy, but I couldn`t shake this fear inside me. I was afraid he would destory the entire building. I was afraid he would go crazy and explode rock shards everywhere. I was afraid to take my eyes off him. Then, at that moment, he caught eye with me, and for the first time I really looked at his eyes. They were normally covered but what I imagined to be auni-brow, but I was amazed at how shiny they were. They were like diamonds glistening a deep blue. Then he did what I think was a eyebrow raise, and he left the room, I guess to observe other classes. It was frightening, but there was somethingexhilarating about it.
So 6th period rolled around and the whole school gathered into the auditorium. I sat in the back, just so I could feel safer, I guess. The golem took the podium and cleared his throat.
"Good morning!" he said almost too cheerfully, and you could hear the audience chuckling because it was clearly the afternoon at this point. Mr. Werich clears his throat again.
"Good afternoon, of course! It has been such a busy day that I completely lost track of time. So, many of you may be asking yourselves, why is their a golem on stage today?" It was something that I was wondering. I was thinking perhaps it was a special rock day or something.
"I am here because the best way to fight ignorance is to educate. I have been told by many that golems such as myself are soulless, dumb animations that don`t deserve to exist. I have been told that I am an abomination and I am a disgraceful parody of life. My race has become a word of slander, and some of you didn`t even know my kind existed!" I felt my face turn bright red.
"Perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. Well, here I am. A golem in the flesh," he takes cue cards from under the podium and wears what would be comically small glasses if they were used in any other situation,"Let me introduce myself. I am Robert Werich. I was created in 1960 by Joseph Werich in what was known as Czechoslovakia. Joseph Werich was a frustrated man. He would create and create, but he would never show his work. He was afraid of the society around him. He became lonely and decided he wanted to personify his work. He crafted me. He put every ounce of frustration andmadness of his work, smuggled a book that taught him the proper spells, and I was born. He raised me as his own son, the son he could never have, because his brilliance was just not accepted by the people around him. He taught me how to talk, he taught me how to read, he taught me how to function in a normal society. He was eccentric, but all he ever wanted was the best for me. Then, in 1968, what I think were Soviet troops invaded our home anddemanded that he come with them. It was because he created me, and was terrified of what I could do. They wanted to destroy me then and there, but my father, began to wrestle these men to the ground. I managed to get away, but they gunned my father down in the process. The final words he cried out to me were to escape to his cousin`s house in America. So I traveledacross Europe, with no one ever lending a helping hand. They all feared me. They all would rather ignore me than accept that I was there. I learned a lot. I learned love from my father, but the world was teaching me how to hate. Not a single soul would help me. And I began to think. How many are there like me? How many are suffering through the same thing as I am? How many have there ever been? These questioned I stewed on as I stowed myself on a boat and I went to America."
"I was more accepted here. No one would talk to me, but while Werich`s cousin Jan had returned to Czechoslovakia, I was able to stay at his old place and work in a factory. I worked in that factory for 10 years, and every night after work, I would go to the library and research what happened to the other golems. How many of my people got out, and what are they doing. I found nothing. 10 years of books,newspapers, and magazines, and all I got were legends, speculations, and people decrying my existance. I became enraged. My father didn`t die so I could be forgotten. I do not exist merely to pose a philosophical question about the sanctity of life, I exist because I exist! And that is why I am here today, to proclaim that I exist, and that starting today, I am giving your school several copies of my book nearing publication about the history of my people, so perhaps no one else, whether they be made of stone or flesh, will be able to excuse lack of knowledge as their rationalization for their lack of reason."
People applauded. The speech continued about specifics about the first golems and how the history of them throughout Europe. I tried to pay attention, but I kept trying to imagine how Mr. Werich managed to get through all of Europe and stow away on a ship. Or how come when he got to America, no one in his story seemed too surprised. I guess it was just a different time back then. After Mr. Werich was done, our history teacher, Mr. Bently, gave him a hardy handshake and you could tell that he absolutely loved every second of it. I don`t know what I think. It was funner to think of golems as mystical beasts that ravaged the countryside, but thinking about Mr. Werich running from Soviet troops just makes golems like every other bad thing that happens in this world. Maybe that is what makes the world go round in a way.

I still wish wizards and dragons were real, but in the end, I bet they would be just as screwed up as the rest of us.

Reality

(It is outside of a TV studio, Fall. A man, D, stands alone smoking a cigarette. D is the director and manager of the cameramen of the TV show "Partner Search." C, who is a cameraman that D manages, approaches D quickly)

C: I think we should tell him

D: Wait what?

C: We gotta tell him!

D: Can`t a guy get a little break?

C: Oh, sorry. I`ll come back

D. No, no, no. Hold on. Is this about work?

C: Well, yeah

D: Good. I can go back on the clock and still smoke a bit. Alright, what`s the problem.

C: Well, I think we should tell him.

D: Tell who to what? Roger?

C: No, not Roger, Chris!

D: Chris who?

C: The guy starring in the show?

D: You mean Chris Rogers?

C: Yeah.

D: Hmmmm, alright, what do you want to tell him.

C: That Diane really likes him!

D: Roger?

C: No, not Roger! Wait, Roger isn`t in trouble or anything is he?

D: No, people have just been talking about him lately.

C: Really?

D: Yeah, new guy and all. All the interns are crazy about him.

C: Whats so special about Roger? I was hired at the same time he was.

D: I was actually thinking about that, You`re a quiet one aren`t you?

C: Huh, well yeah, I guess.

D: Nothing wrong with that, now what was your problem again?

C: Have you seen the footage with Mr. Rogers co-worker yet?

D: Alright, we`re talking the protagonist here, not your antagonist?

C: My antagonist?

D: You and Roger got a little bit of a rivalery don`t you?

C: Uh, I dunno about…

D: Because I like it when we have that sort of rivalry on the set, it gives the production more energy.

C: I actually haven`t really thought about that…but no, I am talking about the protagonist`s co-worker, Diane.

D: Diane? That`s her name huh.

C: Yeah, and Diane just confessed her feelings for Chris!

D: So the proganist`s co-worker likes Mr.Rogers? Well, that’s nice. What of it?

C: (bewildered look)

D: Am I…missing something here?

C: The show is called “Partner Search”!

D: So you think this Diane character should hook up with our protagonist?

C: Yes!

D: No can do.

C: Why not?

D: The operative word in the title is “search,” is it not?

C: What harm could it possibly do?

D: Your job for one. Your job, my job, everyone`s job. You gotta follow the script.

C: Script? What script?

D: Ah, right, I misspoke. Follow the plan.

C: But shouldn`t Chris at least know?

D: Chris? You mean PR Chris?

C: Okay, now you`re just messing with me.

D: Well, you and this Chris seem to be on a first name basis, and I wanted to make sure I got this problem`s specifics all figured out.

C: So why not tell him?

D: Can I ask you a personal question?

C: Only if it is gonna somehow lead to my problem.

D: Haha, YOUR problem? Of course. Your number one problem is the fact that you think this is a problem.

C: The show is dependent on Chris Rogers finding a date!

D: No, this show in depentant on the people who process all this shit and turn it into gold. So, how often do you use a camera outside of work?

C: Uh, A lot before I got this job, but not so much anymore.

D: How often do you think about cameras?

C: I am pretty up to snuff, if that is what you are getting at.

D: No, I mean, how much do you think about the perspective of cameras?

C: All the time really.

D: Do you see yourself as a camera?

C: Pardon?

D: Your head, your skull, your eyeballs. Are they like a organic camera you move around?

C: I guess so.

D: Do you really have to guess?

C: What?

D: This is important!

C: What are you even trying to say?

D: Do people act differently in front of the camera?

C: Of course. But I don’t think it is necessarily inauthentic.

D: Oh ho, Trying to cut me at the pass, eh?

C: I dunno, I`ve heard that argument before that people act differently in front of the camera before, and I think its bullshit.

D: How so?

C: Because then all those great documentaries, all those great prefomances, all those great things we see in movies and whatever is all lies.

D: Lies?

C: Because its not real.

D: I didn`t say anything about "real" I just said "different"

C: Well, different from real right?

D: Not at all. Camera doesn`t make people lie, it makes them do things they wouldn`t normally do by themselves.

C: I know that.

D: Okay, then why should I take this Diane person`s confession any more seriously than any other character on television.

C: Because she is a real person in real life!

D: Is she?

C: Well, unless there is something you`re not telling me

D: I honeslty think that she hardly knew Mr. Rogers before that interview.

C: So is she lying?

D: I don`t think so. I just think that she didn`t realize it until now.

C: That she likes him?

D: Maybe she just realized that she could like him.

C: Could?

D: There is a big difference between could and would, my friend.

C: What would that be?

D: What could that be?

C: What?

D: You see, as I see it, this whole "dating ceremony" thing is a construct. And as we progress through life we expand and detract that construct to include and exclude people. When she saw that camera, she realized she wasn`t dealing with the normal rules anymore. What she stumbled into was our little construct.

C: You mean our show?

D: Not just our show, but all the rules and little walls people have created to keep it going. She doesn`t like him, she only likes the system.

C: She justs wants to be on the show?

D: I think she justs wants something different.

C: Why not give it to her?

D: That would be breaking the rules! The whole reason the show exists is so we can enact these rules and specifictions on people and see how they react. It only can be considered "real" because it is so absurd that the rules create their own little reality for themselves. She doesn`t actually want to work at this game and conquer it, she is just enchanted with the shine and gleam that our little production gives off.

C: You managed to deduce this without even watching the footage?

D: What can I say? I have a gift.

C: So the answer is no.

D: Exactly, now I have seemed to finish my whole pack here, tell one of those interns to get me another.

C: Hey, before you go, if we did tell him, do you think that it would change much?

D: There`s the difference between could and would, right there. Okay, we better get back too it.

C: Sure enough.