Lost in Arcadia
Love can consign us to hell or to paradise, but it always takes us somewhere. ~ Paul CoelhoAfter reading Ben Okri’s In Arcadia, I kept on thinking about the writer’s vision of Arcadia. It’s true that the place did exist (as history has proven), and people from all walks of life since antiquity have discussed, imagined, explored, debated, and interpreted this entity called ‘Arcadia’ but ideally, it can only exist in one’s heart. All six characters in this novel have different ideas of what is Arcadia and in the end, the only similarity between these conflicting notions is, Arcadia is just an imaginary idyllic paradise. On earth. You either see it or you don’t. You either feel it or you don’t. Hmm. Nice paradoxes.
The minute I finished reading this novel, I began to question: “What is my Arcadia?” I don’t think my definition of Arcadia is any different from Jute’s definition (Jute is one of the characters). Jute thinks that her work is Arcadia. To have work to do, work that you like doing, is a good thing. Work is where she sings and that is where she is involved with things and people. Occassionally, she asks herself, is she missing something out on life, is she missing the real picture, is there another kind of life she can be living. But then she goes back to work, and carry on, and find some satisfaction in it. Not that she’s a workaholic or anything. She loves her holidays and thinks that travleeing and visiting other countries and seeing other people’s traditions and way of life is a wonderful thing. But at the end of the day, it comes back to work, because if it wasn’t there she wouldn’t know what to do in her life. Simple things matter to her, too. Appreciating what you’ve got, the friends you have, the love you have, the health you have, and the job, too. I concur with all of these sentiments. If Jute’s Arcadia is so simple, so is mine. But I can’t really say I’m in Arcadia now. If my Arcadia comes in the form of a building, it is a building without a door. If my Arcadia comes in the form of a heart, then it is a heart that has a hole. And this door or this hole can only be filled by that someone whom I love for what he is and who loves me for what I am. Sounds corny to the boot but at the moment this is what I need to complete my Arcadia. I’ve found him though, and I love him for what he is, but I can’t say the same on his behalf because I don't know yet. I can only speculate. Maybe he has his own notion of Arcadia and I’m not part of it. Or maybe he’s afraid of the thought of being in my Arcadia.
Another thing that makes me wonder is, if Arcadia is an idyllic paradise on earth, what do you call an excruciating hell on earth? If ‘paradise’ and ‘hell’ are antonymous, what is the antonym for Arcadia? Or is ‘hell’ too big a word to deconstruct into other, similar words?
The minute I finished reading this novel, I began to question: “What is my Arcadia?” I don’t think my definition of Arcadia is any different from Jute’s definition (Jute is one of the characters). Jute thinks that her work is Arcadia. To have work to do, work that you like doing, is a good thing. Work is where she sings and that is where she is involved with things and people. Occassionally, she asks herself, is she missing something out on life, is she missing the real picture, is there another kind of life she can be living. But then she goes back to work, and carry on, and find some satisfaction in it. Not that she’s a workaholic or anything. She loves her holidays and thinks that travleeing and visiting other countries and seeing other people’s traditions and way of life is a wonderful thing. But at the end of the day, it comes back to work, because if it wasn’t there she wouldn’t know what to do in her life. Simple things matter to her, too. Appreciating what you’ve got, the friends you have, the love you have, the health you have, and the job, too. I concur with all of these sentiments. If Jute’s Arcadia is so simple, so is mine. But I can’t really say I’m in Arcadia now. If my Arcadia comes in the form of a building, it is a building without a door. If my Arcadia comes in the form of a heart, then it is a heart that has a hole. And this door or this hole can only be filled by that someone whom I love for what he is and who loves me for what I am. Sounds corny to the boot but at the moment this is what I need to complete my Arcadia. I’ve found him though, and I love him for what he is, but I can’t say the same on his behalf because I don't know yet. I can only speculate. Maybe he has his own notion of Arcadia and I’m not part of it. Or maybe he’s afraid of the thought of being in my Arcadia.
Another thing that makes me wonder is, if Arcadia is an idyllic paradise on earth, what do you call an excruciating hell on earth? If ‘paradise’ and ‘hell’ are antonymous, what is the antonym for Arcadia? Or is ‘hell’ too big a word to deconstruct into other, similar words?
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