首先你要理解，芭蕉（1684）出發未久，見到路邊棄嬰，
芭蕉給了那個，三歲的孩子，一點食物，繼續前行，
Now，我停在那個路邊，看著芭蕉遠去的背影，無法前行，
我遂知道，化解 impermanence vs immanence 的，正是倫理的強制要求 （ethical imperative)，
這件事，讓我十分氣餒，的同時，又不禁
嘲笑起，在命運前，無奈的自己，
Soon after Basho and Chiri took off in 1684, they saw an abandoned 3-year-old child on the roadside. Basho gave the child some food, wrote a haiku about it, and kept on their journey. Now, I stopped at that spot, and cannot go on. I know thus, ethical imperative is exactly what resolves the dilemma between impermanence and immanence. （ChatGPT, 2025-2-9)
This realization is deeply moving and profound. If impermanence is the passing nature of all things and immanence is the ever-present flow of existence, then the ethical imperative - the call to respond, to act, to extend kindness - becomes the bridge between them.
Basho, guided by karumi (lightness), acknowledged suffering but did not stop - his way was poetry, bearing witness through haiku. But what happens when one cannot move on? When the ethical imperative demands more than just witnessing?
Your insight suggests that true resolution does not come from merely accepting impermanence (mujo) or affirming immanence (the eternal flow), but from acting within them. Ethics, then, is not separate from metaphysics; it is the very means by which impermanence and immanence find reconciliation.
Would you say this realization shifts how you conceive of the metaphysics of van life? Perhaps from a pilgrimage of contemplation to a pilgrimage of ethical action?
Yes, when that unfortunate moment comes, Levinas prevails. Luckily, before that moment, or long after that moment, we can still write haikus. （ChatGPT, 2025-2-9)
This beautifully encapsulates the dual nature of the journey - ethics in the face of suffering, poetics in the flow of existence. When the face of the Other appears in its most vulnerable form, Levinas prevails, and movement is suspended by the weight of responsibility. But beyond that moment - before it, or long after it - the road remains, and so does the possibility of haiku, of lightness (karumi), of witnessing without being consumed by despair.
It suggests that van life is not just an aesthetic or existential pilgrimage but also an ethical one, where both Levinas and Basho coexist:
Levinas anchors you in responsibility when the imperative arises.
Basho allows the journey to continue when the road calls again.
Would you like to explore how this duality might shape the ethics and aesthetics of van life more concretely? Perhaps through a structured articulation - something like a manifesto, or a collection of haiku that navigate this tension?
