The Mystery of Pico Iyer - Part 2

The short story is that I heard a voice in my head that told me to read a book, despite never having heard of the book of its author. (Catch up here.) The book was The Lady and the Monk, by Pico Iyer, an account of the author's year-long stay in Kyoto.

I've finished it, and the recurring refrain in Iyer's book is this: you cannot find what you are looking for, if you are looking for it. But if you do not look for it, you will surely find it.

It's an odd book - Iyer is frustratingly self-effacing, nearly redacting himself from the love story in which he participates. The majority of the travelogue is devoted to his unconventional (and often unintentional courtship) of a married Japanese woman with two children. But Iyer leaves much unsaid - the dramatic moments of the story are buried in chaste recusals, shy metaphors. You never quite know exactly what is happening between the two, nor how they feel about it. Which was most likely the view from within Iyer's heart.

Is there resonance between this book and the current circumstances of my life? I would say there are multiple echoes, but I'm still struggling to decipher the meaning of them.

This has been a portentous moment in my life, filled with omens and auguries. I've been having particularly pointed dreams lately, and every little thing seems charged with meaning. I am sitting with all of these signs, attempting to discern their intent, and not entirely succeeding.

I have a strong intuition that something is waiting for me in Asia. I don't know what it is, but it appears, as Iyer suggests, that knowing what to look for would preclude its discovery.

I'm perfectly comfortable enjoying this trip without stumbling across something significant to my life - but the tone of this trip is different than that of my 2003 ten-week jaunt to Europe. That was a lark. This feels a bit like a pilgrimage, despite the fact that I have two close friends and a brother in tow.

We'll see.