Foreword:
This is by far the longest post I have written (on this Blog) up to this point (equivalent to approx. 22 double-spaced-pages or a short Book Chapter). If you’re interested in reading it, please be my guest. If on the other hand, you’re too busy, then have a nice day and come back later if you so desire. There is so much information I wanted to include in this post that through the writing process I came to understand how the art of writing consists not on what to write, but on knowing when and where to stop… Looking back on what I’ve written, at first sight it appears as though there’s a plot to the story, and perhaps there is. However, the purpose of this narrative is to show how our lives are not shaped by the plots we often try so desperately to construct (often without success and much frustration) but by the simple moments that come and go in mysterious and spontaneous ways.
How challenging it is indeed, the attempt to share what one feels and thinks within by giving it a tangible structure and putting on paper. To put it in front of someone else’s eyes and let it be open to interpretation and criticism. However, what is often much more intriguing to me is trying to come up with a reason why writers feel the need to share what they think and feel with others. It is true, we are social beings, and as such we rely on our interactions and interdependence with each other to survive. After all, the sharing of stories is an activity as old as mankind itself. Thus, perhaps the very act of “writing it down” is what allows the writer to come to terms with a deeper understanding of the very meaning of his/her particular experience. In this respect, he or she can safely capture the experience’s very essence and thus revisit these insightful moments time and time again without concern for the gradual loss of memory we are all subjected to undergo.
Regardless of what the reason may be for writers in general, I know that for me sharing my experiences with those around me is an undertaking of paramount dimensions. Maybe one or two of you will read it and get something out of it. Perhaps it will be ignored all together, but the fact remains that the very act of penning it down allows me to put it behind me. To relive the moments that happened so quickly that if they went on unexamined, then perhaps I would miss or overlook something of value that can prove to be useful for my present situation.
Introduction:
I’ve had the fortune to be alive for 23 years and 361 days. Taken holistically this means that by time I turn 24 on Friday October 2nd, I will have lived 4.541184e+10 seconds. By seconds, I mean moments. By moments, I mean “now-ness”. The purpose of this post will be to examine what has for centuries come to be known to all as NOW. Furthermore, I will attempt to explain the very reason why I chose the title of this Blog to be “Finding the Being Within: Exploring Everything with a Special Emphasis on Nothing”.
I began writing this post as soon as I managed to find a seat on the train back to Tsuruga from Kyoto on Wednesday night. Brainstorming my way through the most vivid memories of the many things I got to see and experience five days beforehand (since Friday evening), I began to make sense and give meaning to what I had just experienced. Hereafter, I will attempt to recount the story of my spontaneous five-day-backpack adventure to Osaka and Kyoto during the Japanese “Silver Week” Holidays.
It is often said that “Living is an ART,” but to me “LIVING is a GIFT and a WAY of BEING… after all, life is… but an instant”. Having no planned itinerary, no set destinations, priorities or commitments to attend to, this journey began with nothing else but a moment. Although I would normally undertake a journey of this caliber solo, Mr. Arnaud Delanoe (a.k.a. Macgyver) turned out to be the best traveling partner I have ever come to encounter. Indeed, I believe that in a very real way we’ve been long-time friends/colleagues in another place and a different age.
It all started on Friday evening, when Arnaud gave me the green light and confirmed a possible departure time to Osaka. I packed my backpack lightly and headed out the door, jumped on my bike, and booked it to Tsuruga’s train station in order to catch the 7:30 PM (and last) express-train. Once I got there, Arnaud was nowhere to be found, and since the Soft Bank store refused to give me a cell-phone earlier that day in spite of offering to pay it cash, I called him from a public phone. Three rings, five rings, eight rings…nothing. With 5 minutes before the train’s departure, I took a deep breath, looked out the window, and there he was, drenched in sweat, desperately looking for a place to lock his bike. I ran out to greet him, pointed to the bike parking stalls, and headed for the ticket office.
We tried the ticket machine first, but there was no luck for this particular ticket. We entered the ticket office, but after seeing the long line-up… it became evident to us that we would miss the train. “Wait here!” he said. Five seconds later, Arnaud was waving at me from the gate asking me to hurry. Somehow, he had managed to pull-off the French way of boarding trains, and we were given special permission to run to the platform and pay at the train. We ran as fast as we could, and in that moment I remember smiling to myself thinking: “This is EXACTLY what life is about.”
We made it! We paid. We sat down and caught our breath. With two hours to get to Osaka we were determined to get some rest to prepare for our all-nighter; however, this wouldn’t be the case. This was the first time we had had a chance to really converse and find out what each of us is all about along with our reasons for being in Japan, our passions, and our ways of living. Soon I discovered that this French character from Aix-en-Provence in southern France some 30 km north of Marseille, shares a similar mindset; thus, we were able to connect on a very deep level.
Given that Aurnaud is an Engineer who is well learned in the scientific field, whereas I have devoted much of my studies to the Humanities, it was interesting to share one side of the coin while listening to its opposite (counterpart). After all, I believe that the truth always resides at the middle point between both sides. In other words, if on one hand you have one argument, while on the other you have it’s counter-argument, then perhaps the sound produced by the clashing of both hands comes closer to the truth than at any one side standing on it’s own). In any case, what was most intriguing to me was the sense of wonder and interest that each of us showed to whatever one wanted to speak about.
Before we even realized that two hours had come and passed, we arrived to Osaka station. Interestingly enough, as soon as we stepped out of the train, it seemed as though we had just walked into a different world where the pace of life was multiplied exponentially in contrast to Tsuruga’s. Within seconds, I was able to feel a different kind of energetic atmosphere with thousands of people coming and going in and out of gates, and boarding and exiting trains. Even the dress code was different from what we had just seen hours before.
We surfaced from the underground station and faced the bright neon lights of Osaka for the first time. Although Arnaud had already been there before, there was something about that night which made it look and feel unknown. Staying true to the European traveler stereotype, he took out his Zippo and lighted a cigarette. Remembering the days I spent backpacking through Europe in 05’ and 08’ I too enjoyed smoking a cigarette while observing my surroundings. We didn’t speak much to each other at the time, there was enough body language expressed in our gestures to understand that we were about to experience a journey unlike any other.
We headed for the subway station and headed for Namba, the shopping, restaurant, and nightclub district of Osaka. We arrived there close to 10 PM, found a locker for our bags and headed for a restaurant. We had 2 hrs to explore before heading to Pure, a popular nightclub well known to locals and foreigners alike. After dinner, we went to an arcade and played one of the most active and fun games I’ve ever played consisting of playing taikko. To our surprise, we even seemed to have a Japanese fan standing behind us! I really sucked at it… props to Arnaud for that one.
By midnight, we were well within the doorway to Pure, somewhere along Namba’s underground, away from the neon lights and the moonlight. We drank, danced, and befriended locals. To my surprise, I met many latinos, including a couple of Mexicans who had lived in Osaka for five years as professional boxers. It was here, where I began to understand more than ever before how the skills I acquired in the pursuit of my degree in International Relations and Anthropology at UBC along with my languages would pay off. This club was truly international. Being able to converse in different languages about politics, culture, sports, philosophy, and literature allowed me to establish meaningful connections throughout those five hours.
At 5 AM we were out on the streets, and the atmosphere felt different once again for the third time in less than 12 hours. Not only was the sun beginning to rise forcing the shadows of darkness to hide, but also the garbage trucks had already emptied the garbage cans and swept the sidewalks; thus, leaving the streets spotless and ready to be stepped on all over again by perfect strangers. We were tired, but since the Manga Café was not open till 8:00 AM, we decided to walk around Namba and observe the beginning stages of another busy day.
Some stores were beginning to open up their gates, restaurants were receiving their seafood shipment, and early drivers and bikers were beginning their daily commute. By 8 o’clock we checked into the Manga Café and managed to get a quick powernap. Later in the afternoon we came out once again, explored the electronic district on the outskirts of Namba and tried out the authentic takoyaki! Later that day we met up with Phil, a Canadian computer programmer from Toronto and friend of Arnaud, who offered to let us crash at his place for the night. Although we were tired, we decided to venture out into Namba once more and met up with my good friend Sandra Fang along with some of her friends from Vancouver (Cindy & Jane), and Ian, a British JET who holds a major in Philosophy. We shared a delicious dinner together and somehow ended up dancing the night away at Pure once more.
Remarkably, Arnaud and I managed to get back to Phil’s by 6:00 AM and after another quick powernap we were on our way to experience the Danjiri Matsuri in Kishiwada (castle shown on picture above).
Remarkably, Arnaud and I managed to get back to Phil’s by 6:00 AM and after another quick powernap we were on our way to experience the Danjiri Matsuri in Kishiwada (castle shown on picture above).
We also happened to meet Josh Hanson, a 29-year-old Canadian Geologist specialized in analyzing the magnetic fields of different geological materials. He was visiting Phil for 2 weeks before heading to Moscow and later to Cairo, Egypt. What was most captivating about this character was that he carried on him at all times nothing but his personal journal. However, this was not an ordinary-looking journal, in fact it’s the most creative one I’ve ever seen. Rather than using any random notebook that can easily be purchased wherever, he actually uses an almost 100-year-old Bible to write down about his travels, itineraries, experiences, and insights. Perhaps for some individuals this would be considered a complete and outright heresy, but after skimming through its pages I immediately thought this was an AWESOME idea. Indeed, what good does an ancient book of wisdom do by being displayed on a dusty book-shelve for years on end? Josh is able to carry this book everywhere and consult it whenever he feels the need to. Furthermore, he is able to apply the insights that jump out from it to the moment.
In any case, we spent the day on the streets watching the many festivities and enjoying some of the food that was available on food-stalls all throughout. It was surprising how many Asahi beers were offered to us for free as the day went on. The parade of uniformed men pulling massive carts filled up with white and red lanterns while chanting throughout the city reminded me of my experience participating at the Tsuruga Matsuri a few weeks ago. We visited a temple and castle along with our entourage and enjoyed a delicious dinner along with the company of newly met Japanese women.
We arrived back to Osaka at around 11:00 PM, and somehow ended up staying up rocking the night away at a Karaoke Bar until about 5:00 AM for the third night in a row. After speaking for about an hour out on the street about life with my friend Sandra, I checked-in at a Capsule Hotel and managed to sleep for a grand total of 3.5 hrs. By 10 AM, I woke up, checked-out, and rushed to the station to met up with Arnaud in order to catch a train and head to Kyoto for the day. I had originally envisioned storing my luggage at one of the lockers inside Osaka’s station so that I could come back later that night and find accommodation at another Manga Café to save time and money. However, after unsuccessfully finding an available one, I told Arnaud to forget that idea and just hop on the train. “This must be for a reason,” I remember telling him. “Let’s just see where the flow is willing to take us.”
As soon as we stepped out of the crowded train, I was able to once again feel a totally different change of pace and atmosphere from the one we had just left. All of a sudden, there were many more visible foreigners, there were posters of shrines and temples throughout, souvenir and traditional craft stores packed to the max, and of course, no available lockers to be found either. I smiled to myself knowing that I would find a way to spend the night there somehow. Thus, in spite of the fact that according to the search databases I had consulted on-line earlier there was no vacancy available, I actually managed to find cheap and convenient accommodation after making a few phone calls from the tourist information office. I have always believed that “for every door that closes in front of you, another one will open beside you. Don’t question it, just let it play out and see where it takes you.”
Given that Kyoto has no more logical pattern to its address system than anywhere else in Japan, finding “Uno Guest House” was an adventure in and of itself. Remarkably, after being pointed in the right direction by perfect strangers right in front of the Imperial Palace (even without our asking… I suppose we really looked "lost"…?), we began to get closer and closer until finally, I remarked: “I can feel we’re so close!” and suddenly BANG! The guesthouse was right behind me! We both laughed it out and went in. Although Arnaud wasn’t originally planning on spending the night in Kyoto, he decided to stay given the great deal we were able to find: 1,700 yen for a tatami room, a futon, a roof, and a shower.
At around the same time we finished checking in, a British man in his late sixties asked us what our plan for the day was. “We are up for anything!” we said.
“Well, I’m just about to catch a cab to head to the 8th International Aikido Tournament at a Dojo that’s close by… would you be interested in attending?”Anthony Russell-ward said.
“Absolutely! Why not? That’s awesome!” we replied.
On our way to Marutamachi-dori (the main avenue), we spoke about “luck,” and within seconds I spotted a 50 yen coin in the middle of the street. I picked it up, we all laughed and within less than a minute we found an available cab and hopped in. On our way to the dojo, we each shared our own story of how it was that we came to be in Japan, and within minutes the three of us understood that “martial arts” was something we all shared in common. Consequently, Anthony mentioned that there was a martial arts store close to where we were heading that he had visited nine years earlier.
“Perfect!” I said. “I’m planning on purchasing a Bo, and Arnaud and I want to check out some authentic katanas!”
“Well if the store is still there, that’s definitely where you want to go,” he said.
Since the cab-driver overhead the conversation and understood the words: Aikido, Karate, Bo, and katana, he attempted to join in the discussion by sharing that his father has a 3rd Dan in Karate and that there’s a store specializing in Martial Arts close by. As soon as I heard this I looked out the window to face the Kamo River and smiled. Within minutes we were outside of the Tozando Sword Store looking through the glass at the amazing display of Katanas and Samurai Armors. The store was bigger than I had imagined, comprised of two floors and three very friendly and knowledgeable staff members. They greeted us with a bow and offered to show us anything we wanted.
Without hesitation, Arnaud and I headed straight to the Katanas that were on display and I asked if I could hold one. Mr. Taniguchi handed me a black katana with an exposed blade. As I held it, I could feel how perfectly aligned its point of balance was along with the elegance of its craftsmanship.
“The katanas in this section are only for practice, if you’d like to see the real ones, head upstairs,” he said.
We took our shoes off and made our way up to the second floor. As I was making my way up, I noticed that along the wall there was a wide display of Bos of different lengths, widths, and materials.
“This one! I will purchase this one,” I remember thinking to myself.
“That one is on sale until Wednesday and it’s our last one,” I heard a voice say.
I made a mental note and proceeded climbing the stairs. By the time I got to the display window, Arnaud had already fixed his attention on one particular blade. I came closer towards it and realized that it was a 400-year-old blade dating back to the Edo period. It’s value: 3,000,000.00 yen ($30,000) for the blade alone. Of course, there were many other magnificent pieces, some of which were worth even more.
We exchanged business cards with the salesman, and headed out towards the dojo. I had never witnessed an Aikido tournament before; however, the set-up of the whole dojo along with the competitive, yet calm atmosphere that was present reminded me of the days when I too once competed in that type of tournament. We shook hands with Anthony and thanked him for bringing us along.
“What’s the plan?” Arnaud asked.
“The plan is a no plan! Let’s just go with the flow and see where it takes us!” I replied.
“Sounds like a plan to me! Let’s do it!” he replied.
And so we were off walking along the streets of Kyoto with a map filled with literally thousands of potential Temples, gardens, and shrines we could visit. We headed east and after a 10-minute walk we came across an image of a wooden Buddha sitting on a lotus and smiling back at us behind a glass window.
“This is a good sign!” I said. “Let’s keep going!”
We stopped at a convini-store, purchased some provisions for the journey and made our way towards the temple that caught our eye at the top of the hill. It was the Nanzen-ji Temple, which has been at the center of Japanese Zen history since 1386, when it was placed in control of Kyoto’s Gozan, or “five great Zen temples.” We decided to climb up the stairs to the top of the adjacent hill and have lunch at the base of the Pagoda overlooking the city in the company of a Buddhist graveyard. We gave thanks, and enjoyed our meal. We talked about philosophy, science, and culture. We took a stroll among the gravestones in silence, and admired the peace and serenity encompassed in that place.
The day continued, and as we walked along the many allies and stone-paved streets of Kyoto while watching the sun slowly disappear into the horizon, we maintained our momentum and kept on walking without a particular destination set in place. We came across and visited many more temples and were even joined by a few gray and black cats along the way. They seemed to have come from nowhere to greet us, and after letting us pet them for a while; they parted off in their own respective paths.
Suddenly we overheard a captivating sound; it appeared to come from a horn-like instrument a few kilometers from where we stood. We decided to follow it until we could find it. It was coming from inside another temple. We proceeded to the doorway and patiently waited for someone to come out and greet us so we could ask for permission to come inside. After a few minutes, permission was granted. We walked along a long wooden corridor with our bare feet until we stumbled across a beautiful Zen garden illuminated by red and white lanterns. A group of individuals in their late 40’s and 50’s were holding giant seashells and blowing air through one of their ends. The sound coming out of their opposite ends reminded me of the sound of the Viking horn, which was played before venturing out into the sea, or right before battle.
We attempted to converse with some of them and although the language barrier was evident, communication was certainly not obstructed. They were ecstatic that we had showed interest in their art; thus, each party respectfully bowed towards each other and the performance continued. Later that night, we caught a bus and headed for the Gion, Kyoto’s best-known Geisha quarter and symbol to the average Japanese male of all that’s good in life: wine, women, and karaoke… I had learned much about this particular district in one of my Anthropology classes a few years ago. Geishas have long been considered to be an integral part of Japanese culture since their profession as professional entertainers whose knowledge of traditional arts, skill at verbal repartee, and ability to keep a secret dates back to the XVII century. It was fascinating to walk along the centuries-old paved-streets I had one read about and finally put my preconceptions to rest.
After dinner, we walked all the way back to the guesthouse and fell asleep. In the morning we rented bikes for 500 yen for the day each and headed out the door. We biked along the Kamo River, laughing and joking around as if it were our first time ever riding a bike. We raced through the back allies of major roads making right and left turns without a particular reason/purpose other than going where the moment/flow would lead us.
Eventually we came to realize that we had just crossed to the opposite side of the city and were close to one of the most famous legacies of medieval Japan: Kinkaku-ji (a.k.a the “Golden Pavillion”). We locked our bikes, paid for the admittance and headed inside. Enjoying a delicious 500-yen cup of cold Macha and a tasty and elegant dessert covered in a thin plate of gold, we spent some time people watching while we also came to enjoy being observed by other Japanese people.
Two hours later we were back on our bikes exploring random streets and back-allies without concern for anything other than living the moment. By around 2 o’clock we found ourselves inside the Shokoku-ji Temple, and as soon as we exited through its opposite side’s entrance, we found ourselves right across from one of the Imperial Palace’s Park (a.k.a. Kyoto Gyoen) main entrances. We decided to check it out, and although the area surrounding the Palace is immense, we were determined to explore it fully since we had nowhere else to be. We constantly reminded to each other of this by asking: “Where are we?” HERE! “What time is it?” NOW!
We kept on riding until eventually we passed the Nijo Castle and visited another “Katana” store where I purchased a couple of authentic “ninja stars”. We continued on and paid a visit to Nishi-Honganji Temple, the head temple of the Jodo Shinshu Organization. It was getting late and we hadn’t eaten much all day so we headed for Kyoto’s Train Station, had a bite to eat and checked out the night train schedule since Arnaud was planning on coming back to Tsuruga later that evening. I stayed with the bikes while he went inside, found a bench to sit and lighted up a cigarette while I enjoyed more people watching.
We rode our bikes all the way back to our guesthouse, Arnaud checked-out and we rode on one bike all the way back to the subway station where I saw him off. It was 7 PM at the time, and I was determined to continue exploring as much of Kyoto as my time would allow. I kept on riding until I stumbled across a gigantic eye-ware boutique. I went in, tried on some glasses, and made friends with the manager. We exchanged business cards and I went to another store. The trend continued for the next three stores, and after being satisfied with my new contacts, I was back on the bike.
I didn’t really know “where” I was, but I knew I was “here”… until eventually I came to realize that I had in fact already been there the night before. I was close to Gion and since I knew I was very far off from the guesthouse and was asked to return the bike by 10 o’clock, I decided to head north. As I mentioned earlier, the streets of Kyoto can be a bit confusing at times, but since I knew I was close the Kamo River, I recognized that if I pedaled along side it, I would eventually reach the guesthouse. I didn't care how late it was or whether or not I would make it on time so as not to be charged extra for the bike. To my surprise, I arrived to Uno at 9:58; I handed the keys to the manager and headed out to grab some dinner at a traditional Japanese style ramen-house.
I got back an hour later, unfolded my futon and laid down on the tatami room. The next morning, I checked-out and thanked Tsu (the manager) after he gave me his business card and offered me assistance whenever I decide to go back to Kyoto, and went in search of my Bo. I borrowed a bike for 15 minutes, reached the store, purchased it, got it wrapped up, and rode back to pick up my backpack and laptop along with my 6-foot staff.
I waved goodbye to the foreigners I met back at the guesthouse and started walking. Pedestrians looked at me with a strange yet respectful expression; after all, I was walking the streets of Kyoto with a weapon in hand. As I was passing the central gate of the Imperial Palace, an elderly Japanese gentleman attempted to strike up a conversation with me and offered to take me a picture with my camera in front of the gate. He nodded to me as a gesture of respect and parted off with his faithful dog.
I boarded the subway as I listened to my iPod; in the background I could hear how bystanders were talking about what I was carrying. The bowing and smiling continued until I reached the station. Once there, I decided to store my backpack in a locker in order to spend the next 5 hours exploring new streets and temples before my departure back to Tsuruga. Not surprisingly, all lockers were taken. “Excellent!” I thought to myself. “Perhaps it’s time to take a step back and begin to write down some of the things that have happened over the past 4 days…” One minute later, a 40-year-old woman approached me and told me I could take hers.
Since the Bo was obviously too long to fit, I had no choice but to take it with me. I walked for half an hour heading south until I reached the Toji Temple (Kyo-o-gokoku-ji), known as a treasure house of Esoteric Buddhist art, due to its large number of 1,200 years old cultural assets brought back from China such as old Buddhist statues, carvings, paintings, and artistic handicrafts. Furthermore, it houses Japan’s tallest wooden structure, a five-story pagoda standing at 55 m (187 ft). As I entered the temple grounds, a particular tree caught my attention. From the distance, I could tell that there was something special about it. I came closer and closer until eventually I came to see what seemed to be the portrait of a Buddha sitting on a lotus position coming out of the tree’s bark. The image was a bit blurry from the distance, but I was convinced that my mind was not seeing what it wanted to see and that in fact this was so. I reached the tree and underneath the impression there was a small magazine article featuring a story about the image. Of course, the article was written in Japanese so I couldn’t make out the main details; however, the fact remained that I hadn’t just imagined it.
With two hours before departure I decided to pay the entrance fee and stroll through the monastery while visiting the many shrines housing the centuries-old statues of Buddha, Bodhisattvas, Guardians, Kings, and Demons. The expression in their faces was so real that at times it was difficult to believe that these were just “statues” made of wood, stone, gold, bronze, and cooper. Looking back on the feeling that I felt when I faced some of these gigantic statues, I cannot help but become aware of the peaceful state I found myself to be in at the time.
I took some photographs, moved the Bo around on the garden overlooking the main Pagoda as if no one were watching me, and I headed off back to the station. There were literally thousands of people coming and going, boarding and exiting trains. After all, this was the last day of “Silver Week” and everyone was trying to catch the last few trains back to their respective towns and cities. I purchased my ticket, lined up at the platform and hoped into the crowded train. Within 20 minutes I was able to find an available seat and thus began to write what your eyes are reading.
Epilogue:
I got back to Tsuruga, unlocked my bike and started to make my way back to my apartment. Wednesday evening marked the day of the Autumnal Equinox (a.k.a Mabon in the "Wheel of the Year"); thus, the moon shined spectacularly across the skyline. I decided to take the long way back and made a slight turn in order to reach Matsubara Beach and the Kehi Pine Forest. Soon after I reached the beach, I parked my bike, grabbed my Bo and backpack and headed towards the water. It was pich-dark, and with no one around for miles end, I collected a few branches and made a small fire. I gave thanks for the five incredible days I had just lived. I sat down and waited for the fire to slowly die off. As I set there in silence facing the sea, I remember I had brought along with me a book that was given to me by a very close friend before I departed Vancouver. I opened my bag, turned my headlamp on and opened the book at a page at random. The book read:
…[“Peak Experiences”] are the moments that most vividly give us an idea of what we might be capable of, that give us a vision of what might be possible if we can generate the energy to open ourselves to what life might contain. Suddenly, there is more, and for the moment, we are richer and life is more complete that we could ever imagine… Our senses are keener. The world seems unified and whole, but [in reality] we are [simply] more conscious than ever of the details of what is around us.[1]
“Incredible!” I thought to myself. “How wonderful life is when one is truly open to what each moment has to offer”. The realization that when you are “HERE” & “NOW”, the lack of planning (or the lack of concern for the futile attempt to have everything “under control”) is often the best plan. In other words, once you allow the universe to guide you with the natural flow of things, and you are prepared to accept what comes and goes (the “good” and the “bad”) in the moment without a subjective prejudice, things tend to naturally fall into place by simply doing nothing other than being open.
Perhaps the best way to explain this tendency is to observe the way a spider lives. After selecting the best possible location of its own choosing, she carefully and patiently webs a symmetrically and perfectly thought-out-web-structure. She places herself in the center and calmly waits as she slowly blends into the background and appears to be hidden from plain sight. Being the perfect meditator that she is, all things come to her by doing nothing other than simply being. She has no expectations, no schedule, no masks, no "plan". It’s only purpose is to live by accepting what each moment has to offer.
What I mean to say is that when one really stops to observe and learn from nature, one immediately comes to understand that despite the allure that we attribute to the works of humanity and the accomplishments of civilization, these don’t attribute to much in the grand scale of things. After all, these works often lack the balance and refinement found in nature. Tainted by impure motives such as profit, hardship, desire for fame, greed, etc… we are able to achieve, but are unable to place our actions into a greater context. Although nature may often seem “chaotic” and “unfair” at times (at least in our head-sized kingdoms…), in reality everything is happening as it is meant to happen – always flowing to the rhythm of moment.
Indeed, what good is a Ph. D., or a high-paying job, or even a Nobel Peace Prize Award in any field if one is unable to break free from his/her conditioned mindset which continually impedes the individual to live truly and fully in the moment? My friends, when all is said and done, the only thing you have is this very moment. How many more of these will you have is not important, and whether you spend your time revisiting the past or fantasizing about the future, you will always continue to do it in the HERE & NOW. By the same token, even if you have no clear destination set in place, you can rest assured that no destination is itself a destination. After all, you are always Here. Thus, stop, slow down for a second, and look at all that’s around you. There is no such thing as an ‘ordinary’ moment, for in every moment everything is happening exactly the way it should. In this respect you can rest assured that you are never alone, for you are one with it all!
Marcel Proust once said that “the real journey of DISCOVERY consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in seeing ordinary things with new eyes”. The title of this Blog encompasses this rationale; I can only hope that it serves the purpose of pointing you in the right direction.
Sincerely,
1699
_kai_
“The mark of a moderate man is freedom from his own ideas. Tolerant like the sky, all-pervading like sunlight, firm like a mountain, supple like a tree in the wind, he has no destination in view and makes use of anything life happens to bring his way.”
- Lao Tzu (Tao Te Ching)
[1] Harry Bauer, The Flying Mystique: Exploring Reality & Self in the Sky. (New York: Delacorte Press/Eleanor Friede, 1980), p. 96. (Italics my emphasis).
