Nabokov: The Thin Ice of Presence
Meaningful Meaninglessness of Now
Meaning is an association of what is now with what once was…
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Vladimir Nabokov, in Transparent Things, writes: “When we concentrate on a material object <…> the very act of attention may lead to our involuntary sinking into the history of that object. Novices must learn to skim over matter if they want to stay at the exact level of the moment.”
Nabokov, the great Russian-English novelist, whose own style is so ingeniously laden with association-rich detail, here, both de-constructs his own style and defines Zen: “A thin veneer of immediate reality is spread over natural and artificial matter, and whoever wishes to remain in the now, with the now, on the now, should please not break its tension film.”
Nabokov’s advice is straight from Buddhism: to stay in the moment, we must somehow avoid weighing down “what is” with our pre-conceived notions of “what it means.”
As we encounter reality, we continuously make meaning, i.e. we associate “what is” with “what it means.” In so doing, we continuously confuse the Present for the Past. “Oh,” we think with quickly fading interest, “this is a fork” as we look at a “so-called” (I’ll explain the “so-called” parenthetical in a few moments) fork.
Nabokov proclaims: “Transparent things, through which the past shines!”
Yes: the Present is Transparent. If seen as such, not through the lens of past associations, it has the proverbial clarity of enlightenment. But how elusive this way of seeing, or rather not seeing! How thin this ice of Presence!
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To Nabokov, skimming the Present without sinking into the Past is a miracle that befits only the most experienced: “Otherwise the inexperienced miracle-worker will find himself no longer walking on water but descending upright among staring fish” (if I may add) under the weight of past associations.