Two Words about Dappled Light
木の間よりもりくる月の影見れば心づくしの秋は来にけり 小野小町
I recently wrote a review in the Dublin Review of Books about a new novel I fell in love with called Fish Swimming in Dappled Sunlight, by Riku Onda/translated by Alison Watts.
The title derives from a Japanese word that denotes the quality of sunlight when it appears through the trees. Komorebi 木漏れ日 evokes this play of light and shadows. It is filtered light that has a flickering and dappled quality. It is a word known for being not easily mapped onto an English word.
And brilliantly, it is a perfect word to evoke the slippery nature of memory, self-identity, and human consciousness.
But how do fish swim in dappled sunlight? Onda writes:
Deep below the dappled sunlight, fish twist and turn at the bottom of a dark-blue pool. Occasionally they rise to the surface with a flick of fins, but it is impossible to see them clearly or count them.
Our memories are just like that. Some recollections are so vivid, close-to-hand; while others seem to shimmer and flicker just out of reach. While others still are deep underwater, completely submerged. Onda is concerned with the way we remember things. Like many people, she wonders if our identity is really the sum total of what we recall.
Speaking of memory, I am losing so much of my Japanese. Almost a decade has passed since I left Japan—which is half the time I loved there. I don’t feel like I’ve lost half my memories, but I definitely find them to be becoming slippery, like fish.
As I was working on the review, a waka I studied in grad school from the Kokinshu popped up suddenly in my mind. It was driving me crazy as I was sure the waka used the term 木漏れ日. But looking it up, I saw it was a different word to evoke dappled light.
木の間よりもりくる月の影見れば心づくしの秋は来にけり 小野小町
Gazing at the moonlight
spilling down through the trees
I am consumed
with the sadness of
Coming Autumn
It is by one of my favorite poets, Ono no Komachi. It is a similar image. Light “seeping” or “spilling down filtered by the trees. もりくる (漏れてくる).
It is pure poetry. I want be more sensitive to the quality of sunlight and moonlight.
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To read:
Moonwalking with Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything, by Joshua Foer
Fish Swimming in Dappled Sunlight, by Riku Onda/translated by Alison Watts
“Komorebi” poem by Caitriona O’Reilly —in NYTimes
Yes, I think memories are “slippery, like fish”.
Both, my wife and myself are in the autumn of our life. We have been together for over a half century and when we try to retrieve a shared experience from the depths of that dark-blue pool, often one of us has only a vague recollection. We try to re-build that memory of a particular event, place, and time, but both of us know it will sink back down again to the bottom and eventually disappear like anything else in our universe.
Light filtered through trees is one of my favourite experiences. Dappled sunshine in a heavily scented earthy forest or wood, what could be better?