There is a piece of paper on my desk that I can see whenever I am on my computer. There is much written on this piece of paper. It is from one of my small pocket-sized notebooks I used in Japan. I always had a notebook in my pocket back then. This page was from my final week in the country. I believe I made these notes in Osaka. Maybe some of them were from Tokyo. I remember looking at part of the page while on a train stopped in Kyoto en route to Hamamatsu and then Tokyo at the end of a week of exploring new cities before going home, but I think I'd already taken some of the notes earlier. Anyway, the notes consist of signs I saw around me. Anytime I saw an advertisement or words anywhere that caught my eye in a way that gave me a message of hope or inspiration, I wrote it down. I also wrote down any songs that synchronized with the signs.
This morning I woke up at 6 am because I am substituting for another teacher for five classes while he is on vacation. I was happy to see that even though it had snowed during the night, it wasn't currently snowing. That changed after my shower, because it was a full-blown blizzard, with horizontal fast-moving snow blowing against my whole walk to work. It even seemed to change directions ninety degrees any time I made a turn. Even so, I smiled for most of the walk. I was in a great mood. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I've been drinking more green tea each day. Maybe it's because I'm doing push ups and curls every other day. Probably it's because I've resumed hour long walks each night. Maybe it's because I've been reading over the writing that flowed through me from the mystery magic when I was deciding to move back here a few months ago. Maybe starting the week by watching several videos of The Flaming Lips' Wayne Coyne got me a little extra jazzed about life again. Maybe it's because I'm reading a great book, Lunch with Buddha, the sequel to Breakfast with Buddha, the first book I read in my new apartment in San Francisco.
I love the Rinpoche character, the holy man in the book. He fills me with a mature sense of childlike wonder at the world, something I've had inside of me forever, but has become hidden at times because of circumstance. Spiritual training involves preventing that hiding from taking place, but it happens because I'm a human. The childlike wonder doesn't mean behaving like a child. It just means childlike wonder; being amazed by the beauty of being. Snowy days like today always bring back that feeling. Speaking of which, I've been listening to a playlist of all the music I used to listen to in the 1990s when I was a young teenager, partly out of nostalgia, mostly because it's good music. Strangely, I've been in a great mood even though the music is depressing. I'm focusing less on the sad or angry emotions and instead tuning into to the beats and appreciating the distorted guitars (I listened to rock music exclusively as a teenager).
The walk began with live music from Nirvana, but then segued into a few songs from They Might Be Giants' Factory Showroom, a slightly different vibe, but still full of energy. In fact, I became so energetic that I decided to just start jogging during one of the final stretches to the train. And of course--no, I didn't fall, I have amazing balance on snow--the music cut out and I knew exactly what had happened because the same thing had happened on a sunny day a couple weeks earlier, the last time I decided to jog in the snow. My iPod was no longer in my pocket. This time, there was fresh snow on the ground, so it could easily have sunken beneath. It was also a busy corner, so nobody cared that I was clearly searching frantically for something as they all walked by me, probably trampling it for all I knew. Luckily, another pedestrian noticed my predicament and asked me what I had dropped, and then began looking for it with me, swiping snow around with our shoes. After three minutes the kind stranger unearthed my most faithful spreader of musical heavens. I don't remember his name, but I do remember that he is from Azerbaijan and apparently couldn't have been in too much of a hurry. He smiled a lot, and I will remember the kindness of a stranger whenever I hear the music.
This morning I woke up at 6 am because I am substituting for another teacher for five classes while he is on vacation. I was happy to see that even though it had snowed during the night, it wasn't currently snowing. That changed after my shower, because it was a full-blown blizzard, with horizontal fast-moving snow blowing against my whole walk to work. It even seemed to change directions ninety degrees any time I made a turn. Even so, I smiled for most of the walk. I was in a great mood. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I've been drinking more green tea each day. Maybe it's because I'm doing push ups and curls every other day. Probably it's because I've resumed hour long walks each night. Maybe it's because I've been reading over the writing that flowed through me from the mystery magic when I was deciding to move back here a few months ago. Maybe starting the week by watching several videos of The Flaming Lips' Wayne Coyne got me a little extra jazzed about life again. Maybe it's because I'm reading a great book, Lunch with Buddha, the sequel to Breakfast with Buddha, the first book I read in my new apartment in San Francisco.
I love the Rinpoche character, the holy man in the book. He fills me with a mature sense of childlike wonder at the world, something I've had inside of me forever, but has become hidden at times because of circumstance. Spiritual training involves preventing that hiding from taking place, but it happens because I'm a human. The childlike wonder doesn't mean behaving like a child. It just means childlike wonder; being amazed by the beauty of being. Snowy days like today always bring back that feeling. Speaking of which, I've been listening to a playlist of all the music I used to listen to in the 1990s when I was a young teenager, partly out of nostalgia, mostly because it's good music. Strangely, I've been in a great mood even though the music is depressing. I'm focusing less on the sad or angry emotions and instead tuning into to the beats and appreciating the distorted guitars (I listened to rock music exclusively as a teenager).
The walk began with live music from Nirvana, but then segued into a few songs from They Might Be Giants' Factory Showroom, a slightly different vibe, but still full of energy. In fact, I became so energetic that I decided to just start jogging during one of the final stretches to the train. And of course--no, I didn't fall, I have amazing balance on snow--the music cut out and I knew exactly what had happened because the same thing had happened on a sunny day a couple weeks earlier, the last time I decided to jog in the snow. My iPod was no longer in my pocket. This time, there was fresh snow on the ground, so it could easily have sunken beneath. It was also a busy corner, so nobody cared that I was clearly searching frantically for something as they all walked by me, probably trampling it for all I knew. Luckily, another pedestrian noticed my predicament and asked me what I had dropped, and then began looking for it with me, swiping snow around with our shoes. After three minutes the kind stranger unearthed my most faithful spreader of musical heavens. I don't remember his name, but I do remember that he is from Azerbaijan and apparently couldn't have been in too much of a hurry. He smiled a lot, and I will remember the kindness of a stranger whenever I hear the music.
Now, about this piece of paper I can see on my desk...
The first message at the top of the paper says: "Passport around the world."
Then it says, "Takara."
My fortune cookie this evening read:
"You see pictures in poems and poems in pictures"
"
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