Every Little Thing is Cute - From Negative to Creative

Ah, I thought, what a cute person. It's long, *horo-horo* (tears falling).

1. Every little thing is cute

Hannon wrote 'My Bookshelf: "The Rose is Alive"'.

She read an article that introduced it as "every little thing is cute," and apparently bought the book immediately.

Then, time passed, and she reread it for the first time in 15 years. She says, the rose was alive.

It is a collection of posthumous manuscripts by Yachie Yamakawa (1918–1933), who died at the young age of 16 from pulmonary tuberculosis, and Hannon conveyed just how "every little thing" about Yachie is cute.

Surely, she is like Anne of Green Gables, like Judy from Daddy-Long-Legs, like Anne Frank.

I am weak for this type of girl. *Horo-horo*.

"For the last two years of her life until she passed away, Yachie spent almost all her time bedridden,

and in her diary, which she likely wrote without ever dreaming it would be read by many people one day,

she wrote down a lot of her anxiety, frustration, loneliness, and feelings of resignation in honest words, and it is just so endearing that you want to hug her."

And so, Hannon messaged this at the end of her article.

"How luxurious it is to be able to write and read whenever and however I like.

I hope it will be republished in the near future, and that what Yachie wrote will moisten someone's heart."

At the time, pulmonary tuberculosis was a "death sentence." Lung cells would die off. Patients would gradually drown to death.

Since it was a state of "my breath isn't coming, my breath," it must have been quite agonizing.

The tubercle bacillus would destroy various organs throughout the body, including the brain. Oh my...

Michie was on the shore where fear and despair were washing over.

A person in such circumstances, from which they could never escape, is "cute"??

The way she lived so desperately, and the soul that still sought to be free.

Her fresh sensibility overflowed, and she was so admirable that it would make one weep.

What is it that people who can perceive things so vividly are doing?

Did she possess a creative power and expression that did not rely on logic, and a sense to recognize and appreciate beauty and pleasantness?

Was Michie blessed with talent?

"There was a time when I became so sick of my illness, and I grew to hate my chest so much, thinking that if I didn't have this, I would be healthy and wouldn't have gotten sick.

Because of this thing, everyone's legs and arms were sacrificed.

Thinking that, I felt such hatred that I wanted to take my lungs out and slam them onto the floor.

However, the doctors were there next to me, whispering in German.

It probably wasn't about me, but I felt as if they were talking about my chest, and I suddenly felt sorry for the chest that the doctors were talking about in that way.

And wanting to shield my chest from the doctors' eyes, I hugged it tightly."

Michie wrote down everything she saw in the world with all her might.

For the cuteness of it, I would like you to read Hanon's article.

She, too, is crumbling while she writes.

2. Negative Capability

Negative events have meaning in and of themselves.

Look, just as good is backed by evil, positive goes hand in hand with negative. The two are separated by a hair's breadth.

But people usually collapse under a dark cloud of negativity.

However, there are people who live their souls to the fullest, even if they close their lives at sixteen.

Or, there are many who live with their souls half-open until they are ninety-eight.

"Negative capability" is a term the poet John Keats is said to have used when speaking about the secret to Shakespeare's creativity.

It means "the ability to endure situations where answers are not easily found."

The anxiety and conflict that arise from the uncertain situations brought about by unknown problems are negative for everyone.

But it refers to the attitude of staying there, daring not to rush to a conclusion even so.

At first glance, people hate to be shrouded in a dark cloud, even from a minor negative. I definitely hate it too.

But actually, it is precisely when the wound is minor that one's degree of "negative capability" is most apparent.

For example, scenes like an unpleasant workplace, feeling out of place, or a bullying boss are common, but the way one handles such situations makes a difference.

For instance, some people keep writing about their hardships in a diary. Eventually, an unexpected development occurs.

During times of misfortune, one might diligently clean the toilet every day. Then, sure enough, an unexpected grace arrives.

Indeed, for those who possess this ability, help comes from somewhere.

Is it just a coincidence?

It is said that "Negative Capability" is the idea of the power to create something creative from within the act of enduring.

Keats recognized this ability in Shakespeare.

Creativity is surely not the exclusive domain of a select few writers, poets, or scientists.

I believe it is the very way of living itself—thinking for oneself and creating how to live without blaming others.

Of course, I am not saying you should just sit and endure.

You must fight against unreasonable things like power harassment or sexual harassment. If things are dangerous, you must escape quickly.

But under that dark, cloudy sky, you must judge whether there is nothing left to learn or what it all means.

Until you receive what it signifies, you have no choice but to keep staring at it.

3. The Content of Loving Yourself

People often say that it is important to love yourself.

However, it does not mean looking at how wonderful you are and loving yourself for that.

It is not something that inflates such an ego image.

I believe self-love means becoming one with this heart.

If you become one, there is no longer any need to love yourself.

As long as there is a separation between the head and the heart, we will suffer. Unable to even say it softly.

As long as the ego screams, 'This shouldn't be happening,' 'I can't forgive this,' or 'I can't take it anymore!', it cannot become one with the heart.

The heart lives in a different dimension of sensibility.

The events that occur are like dark clouds, but if your thoughts interpret them, the reality of the heart remains unknown.

I believe this patience of not interpreting is what Keats called 'Negative Capability'.

Painful and difficult days continue.

And you might meditate. You might pray.

You might suddenly decide to tidy up your room. You might burn some incense.

Or you might clean the toilet every day.

At such times, you drop your thoughts and devote yourself wholeheartedly to the act.

You set aside the ego that wants to interpret things.

For our hearts, such actions are much more natural than letting the ego speak.

Through the acts of meditation and prayer, you align yourself with your heart.

That is why tidying up, cleaning, and doing laundry brings peace to your mind.

In doing so, you develop a certain "sensitivity."

Perhaps you do not notice that growth.

And then, at some point after a while, strangely enough, some mystery comes to your aid.

Oh... does that sound suspicious?

But in the act of prayer, things that can only be described as grace truly tend to happen.

Even I, who absolutely loathe gods and Buddhas, think so.

The minute vibrational messages emitted by the heart cannot be received as long as the ego is making noise.

If you do not receive them, grace cannot help you either.

As "negative capability" progresses, you will likely be able to receive the "delicate" vibrations spun by your heart.

Well, it is a suspicious story, isn't it?

But indeed, some kind of help does occur.

What happened to Michie?

4. In the case of very minor injuries

Writing these kinds of texts must also be a part of creation.

I keep writing because somewhere inside me it brings joy. Perhaps it is this heart.

But when I see the songs, paintings, or writings of talented people, it causes me stress.

I get frustrated because I cannot change myself easily.

Unable to bear it, I try, for example, to explore the secrets of Haruki Murakami or Shakespeare.

I try reading the brilliant Hanon.

The idea is that there must be some model, some clever way to do things.

But it doesn't go well. Ah, I feel even more depressed, thinking I'm such a fool.

While looking around at my surroundings, I end up easily resorting to 'imitation'.

Actually, when I imitate, it sometimes gets surprisingly good reviews.

And so, the imitation continues.

Or, if a past work was well-received, I self-imitate that.

Someone once said, 'We trust what we imitate more than what we create ourselves.'

The reason imitation is a forbidden move is that you cannot get close to the voice in your own heart.

If it is just imitation, there are plenty of others who could take my place; I don't necessarily have to be the one writing it.

It is my writing because it is my soul that is writing it.

Whether it is good or bad is beside the point; it is proof that I am alive.

Since I've come all this way, even if no one cares, I at least want to write and express 'myself'.

One shouldn't hide the wishes of their heart, should they?

Those who keep secrets are, well, not very cute.

5. Why is it "cute in every way"?

The archaic word "kawayushi," which corresponds to the modern Japanese word "kawaii" (cute), is said to have referred to feelings of sympathy for someone else's misfortune, such as "pitiful."

As expected, it was a word related to the negative.

And so, the meaning of this "kawaii" changed drastically from the Middle Ages onward. It shifted toward "adorable."

"Kawaii" changed into a way of thinking about something with deep affection and cherishing it.

If you cannot think of your miserable self as cute and lovable, it will surely be nothing but painful.

Even when dark clouds arrive, it is your own self that is doing its best.

However, unless you hold it in your palm and look at it, and endure it to a certain extent, self-acceptance will not progress.

As long as you tell yourself that this should not exist, or that it is shameful or miserable, the seeds of negative capability will not grow.

Even if you are miserable or frustrated, nothing will begin unless you accept it.

Through meditation or prayer, the training to set the ego aside a little begins.

Write a diary earnestly. Or, clean the toilet calmly.

Cleaning is truly, truly a great act.

It seems like something anyone could do, but many people cannot do it with their whole heart.

But, as you put your heart into it, you will surely begin to hear the small vibrations of this world.

Your own world, which you had not noticed, will begin to appear, and a certain expansion will occur.

That is a landscape and a sound that you cannot see or hear unless you yourself become a subtle vibration.

And then, the god of creation descends...

Creation is the power to survive this world with one's own body, but it is something that is received.

It is not something of the ego that says, 'Now, I shall create.'

There is a good reason why cute people are also prone to being people of hardship.

Through trials and tribulations, some people come to distinguish subtle voices at a wonderful level.

Pray quietly, ever so quietly.

We call that figure, wishing with single-minded devotion, 'cute.' How admirable, we think.

Yes, you, too, are cute in every way.

P.S. (The following is a supplement, yet it is long)

1) I also searched through the collection of posthumous manuscripts.

'The doctor's stethoscope smells of rubber, the carnations are swaying.'

'I moved the bed to the window and looked at the sky; I had forgotten how vast the sky was.'

'The splendor of the birds flying diagonally across the great sky as if falling.'

'The sound of the piano fades in and out, ah, the rain is pouring down.'

'I touch the beautiful rose, it was smooth and cold. The rose is alive.'

This is the title poem that captures the cold, smooth beauty of the petals.

It says that coldness is the life of a plant, the uniqueness of a plant's life. It says that coldness is the proof of being alive.

“A girl suffering from a chest ailment is lovely. It is lovely, but to tell you the truth, it is far from lovely.

It is a sad and painful thing. Happiness is not something that is just found anywhere.”

She does not dress herself up with words, yet she possesses both a sensitive state of mind and a certain cuteness. Refreshing and literary.

If one were to condense the joy of a girl living her life into words, it would become, 'The rose is alive.'

2) Her mother, Ryuko, who was also a poet, says:

“On March 31st, around 5:00 AM, her condition suddenly changed, and with a haggard face, she said, 'I can't take it anymore.' ...It was the first time Yachie, who had endured and endured, revealed her true feelings.”

“When an acquaintance named Yaguma visited around 12:00 PM, she said while wheezing, 'Please come again when I get better,' but she passed away at 2:40 PM.

People who were able to come gathered and placed Yachie in the coffin.”

“Her face, made up for the first time in her life, looked like that of a bride.”

Thinking it pitiful that her child died as a girl without ever knowing love, her mother wrote that in her diary.

In 'After More Than Ten Years,' contributed to the 1939 edition published by Kōchō Shorin, that mother wrote:

“Yachie, who would have turned thirty, would surely think it unbearable to have these diaries from her girlhood published once again.

However, I am happy.

I have never felt the joy that the rose is alive as strongly as I do now.

Regarding the publication of this book, I feel this joy, and amidst the sorrow, I am grateful.”

3) Prominent figures in the literary world

According to Wikipedia, Yasunari Kawabata said the following:

“'Blue Fish' by Aya Nishimura, 'Children's Creative Writing and Life Guidance' by Natsuko Ishimaru, 'The Posthumous Manuscripts of Yachie Yamakawa,' and other collections of writings by precocious boys and girls are books that I never want to be without at my desk.”

The precociousness of their hearts is not necessarily something to celebrate. However, that precocious talent sometimes manifests as a child's vulnerability, bringing my imagination to life.

What that childish simplicity gives me is truly vast and complex. It is indeed a shortcut to the life force of heaven and earth.

Kan Kikuchi also commented, 'This is a collection of posthumous paintings and writings by a girl named Yachie Yamakawa who died at sixteen.'

He remarked, 'Although they are all fragmentary, the reason I feel such deep sorrow while reading them is likely because flashes of genius can be seen everywhere.'

According to Wikipedia, this posthumous collection was published as a book titled 'Roses Are Alive' in 1935 (Showa 10), and has since been reprinted by various publishers, becoming a bestseller with over fifty editions.

A diary she didn't even show her mother.

It is said that the writings she asked to be burned upon her death were turned into a book, which has been reprinted and read continuously to this day.

Those who wrote beautiful Japanese prose see their lives end without any drama. And yet, she continues to speak to us even now as an 'eternal girl'.

4) Comments from reviewers

'How close to nature, how honest these writings are. It is a supreme joy to have been able to read such prose.'

'I feel like there is hardly anyone else who can write this honestly; I wonder if there even is anyone.'

'There are parts that are not exactly joyful, but I am drawn to the beautiful and cute prose,'

'and furthermore, I don't have any strange sadness about wanting to read more of what she might have written, yet for some reason, it is a joy that brings sighs and tears.'

'What kind of sigh is this? It feels like something that had hardened within me has been slightly melted.'

'I will keep reading this book over and over again.'

'When I read a book like this, I feel like the number of other books I can read narrows, which is a problem (though not really a problem). Words are alive within books.'

'When I try to write like Yachie-san, it always ends up sounding fake, or just wordplay, or simply unpleasant prose.'

'But there is not a trace of that in her work.'

'Even if you strip away the circumstances she was in, her writing would surely not be something simple. It would surely be alive.'

I cannot write sentences like that.

The girl, the words, they are alive. Everything about living—the sadness, death, hardship, happiness, and joy—is filled with a fresh, vibrant radiance.

While vowing to live positively, she ends up doing the exact opposite, and by writing it in her diary, she struggles to face herself and change.

Yet, there is still a part of her that feels like giving up.

Her writing has no darkness at all; it is bright, and its hopeful lightness is impressive.

The world she felt through her window is conveyed as if it were a film.

The writing does not feel old, and her emotions are fresh and endearing.

When the birthdays of myself or my friends appear, I realize that decades before we were born, she was truly alive.

This book, which begins with the words 'When I grow up,' is packed with Michie-san's joys, sorrows, and sufferings.

Gradually, the words 'boring' and 'lonely' become more frequent.

She rejoices when someone visits, and feels sad when her mother is not there.

To her, who repeatedly writes in her diary that she does not want to be angry, wants to be kind, and wants to be a good girl, I want to say, 'You don't have to suffer over such things. You are kind.'

It seems Michie-san did not share her anxieties with her mother.

That was likely her way of being considerate, not wanting to worry her mother,

but how painful it must have been for her mother to read Michie-san's diary after her death.

I cannot stop my tears after reading the words written by her mother.

'She says she is lonely at night, and when I say it is okay because I am here, she says she only needs me for a little while longer because she doesn't want to tire me out. Poor thing.'

Her words begin to change in the diary entries after her second relapse.

The girl, having learned the unbearable pain of illness, gradually matures.

The girl's sorrow. Her earnest wish that her body could just be healthy. Her envy and jealousy toward those who are naturally, normally healthy.

The ugly feelings of thinking of herself as hideous are spun into quiet poetry.

This was no ordinary record of an ordinary girl.

I was moved by her desperate attempt to accept her illness. It brought me to tears.

"Those who cannot be good patients will likely never be good healthy people." Such words only come from someone who has truly faced their reality.

There is just too much I want to write down, so I will keep it all inside my heart."

Many readers also find the drawings Michie made herself to be genuinely cute and heart-tugging.

People say it is a natural gift, but is it?

It is because her writing is unadorned, earnest, and desperate.

She possesses a very high capacity for introspection.

It must have been a long life of convalescence where she quietly cultivated negative capability.

And did she hear the voice and show the talent to "connect with the life of heaven and earth"?

Grace continued to permeate her life even after her death.