Kafka on the Shore yields a truly unique reading experience. All at once, I feel incredulous about the events while I simultaneously feel a deep-rooted belief in the concepts Haruki Murakami presents. From today’s discussion in particular, I cannot shake the concept of the search for one’s “’missing other half”’ (39). This desire to complete our self can create a drive to achieve one’s goals; however, it can also induce a fair amount of anxiety. Currently, I feel more of the latter. Something about today’s discussions created this unsettled feeling inside of me: Who should I search for? What should I search for? Who searches for me? What searches for me? Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you? Aaaarrggggghhhh! This seems like a lot to handle!
Indeed, most people want to feel a connection—to someone or something. You and I fall into this category; for instance, your blogs about cell phone usage and my own cell phone experiences present confirmation of this assertion. Many of you noted feelings of disconnection that resulted in loneliness, anger, frustration, ambivalence, and even, in some cases, fear. To me, the feelings of fear present the most provocative notion—that while we desire solitude at times, more often we fear others leaving us utterly alone and forgetting our very existence. From the cell phone experiment, we see that this could surprisingly happen in even just a few minutes. In my own experience, when I have a day when no one contacts me, I definitely ponder my place in the world: Who cares about me? Who wonders about me? Do I matter to anyone? How quickly could others forget about my existence? Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you? Aaarrrgggghhhh! In many cases, my cell phone exacerbates an already existent fear in a very dramatic manner.
On a larger scale, Kafka’s journey to discover his true self, his true purpose, and perhaps even his true mother and sister, also highlights these issues. As such, it does feel like Murakami posits that life presents us with a constant search for the missing piece—the piece that will complete us, the piece that will fill the void. In essence, we always yearn for our other half. Perhaps the journey and the missing piece morph along our journeys, or maybe they never change. Time shall tell.
Ms. Serensky, I agree that beyond our biological needs (food, shelter...) we all have an innate need to know that others care about us. In Chekhov class, we discussed how each of the characters desperately yearns for companionship, and an escape from their stiflingly cold environment. But Chekhov's characters only complain about their loneliness, never acting proactively on their wishes of fulfillment. Because to acknowledge, and then to take assertive action to find our missing halves, would make us vulnerable: which scares all of us.
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