Hoikuen Today

I've learned a lot from these kids.

I can now tell the difference between a one-year-old and a two-year-old. And I know how to make a baby stop crying, pretty well. Add that to the fact that I know how to cook and, gawddarnit, I am just about ready to be a housewife. Except I haven't been changing diapers... Oops.

See the passion?

Beautiful Japanese Torture

My life has come rushing down into the complexity of intermeshed feelings. To put it simply: I am overwhelmed with emotion right now. All kinds of emotion and directed all over the globe.

I love my life in Japan. I love my town and the people in it. They've become a part of me and I don't want to let go of it and become but a far-away stranger to them again.

My job, on the other hand, is certainly not my passion. If my passions are to make art, to write, to photograph, to communicate complex things with people, then my job lacks almost all of those things. And to make this job even worse they are restructuring my job so that I get to teach even less than I did before....

Why is it torturous? Because as close as you get to the people, the culture, the places, the food, the everything, as much as you fall in love with it, you must say goodbye to it in the end. If not goodbye (because you could attempt to move here for the rest of your life), then you are destined to remain (if not Japanese in appearance) but a foreigner and foreigners here are treated in a very specific way (not entirely uncharmingly at that). Then there is the enormous hurtle of becoming fluent in kanji, but I won't go into that here....

My passion for this place, as you can see and read, is quickly increasing as the clock starts running out. I will be feeling more and more inner-conflict as my departure approaches. I don't know what to do about it. I could go mad.

Then there are the places and people of my past. They are spread out all over the place having amazing experiences. Many of them are in the US. I miss you dearly.

Every choice seems to eliminate all others; the irony of consciousness. To be conscious means to see tragedy and limits. To see possibilities is to see limits. Consciousness, like much of what humans can be passionate for, is both foe and friend. To know all of the possibilities of life would be to die - for if it were humanly possible, it would surely kill you - and because it is impossible in life, perhaps it happens in death (but I doubt it).

To make matters more extreme the powers that be (as a topic) have recently come to my mind. For so long they have been lost in the cloudiness of my mind that winter had brought on. But because this is the impossible consciousness that I mentioned above, I don't think it will really ever be able to make matters that much more extreme.

In conclusion, it seems that spring has finally entered my body and awakened me from the inside out. The power of spring is very intense and I am grateful for, if intimidated by, its presence.

Beppu, Film, Materialism v. Idealism

I just got back from a trip to the city of Beppu. It was an epic adventure done solo, how epic adventure's should always be done (or with a group of Greek men on a giant row boat, but that's not really my style or grace of life).

I did finally find this amazing onsen called Kabeyu that features a bath in a cave next to a river with beautiful tree branches hanging over it all. A nice farmer from Kusu-town joined me and offered me snacks that he put on a floating piece of wood that was in the cave water, which was a little warmer than luke-warm. We had a very interesting conversation completely in Japanese in which he explained that many of the cultural differences between America and Japan can be related to the fact that Japan is thin and America is wide (I thought that this might be the most enlightening one idea about the subject that exists). Droplets of water fell from the cave walls above while I watched them hit the dark, reflective surface of the water. It was as majestic as it sounds; all the while the river's sounds and waters flowed down past the cave.

I stayed in the closest thing to a Italian nunnery-hotel in Japan for less than $25. Unlike the Italian equivalent this place had an indoor onsen (more like a bathouse with natural geothermally hot water) and didn't have an early curfew. It was Monday night so nothing scandalous was happening in the town that I could see (not that I was looking for a scandal)... I went to a restaurant called hyaku zen no yume (one hundred thousand dreams, I think). It was on the seventh floor of a shopping mall and had decent Italian wine for $4.50 a glass (and good servers).

Beppu's expansive "Beppu Park" reminded me of a city only slightly larger: my hometown Eugene (pop. ~150,000). I had my old, manual 35mm SLR, the Nikon FG-20, complete with a Nikkor 28mm f2.8 lens. It was so nice to shoot with film again. I must say that it makes me want to always shoot with film, despite film's inconveniences. Digital seems to be so material-less; the image is one step closer to being just an idea in one's brain as it is a practically weightless piece of information stored on some hard-drive. While that weightlessness does seem to match the truth of our brains and our thoughts' virtual weightlessness I remain nostalgic for film: it represents another form of truth - material reality - the weight of life that is a serious requirement of life. The body that surrounds the practically weightless thoughts in one's mind (the body that the mind cannot live without).

As my deadline approaches in Japan I get more and more sentimental about my time here... I already want to come back....

Teodoro's Love Advice at Diana's Request...

For finding lasting love it matters less where you come from as much as it matters where you are going.

Despite the fact that most marriages are either miserable or end in divorce, that won't stop you from trying or wanting to try.

The maturity and self-knowledge that allows you to know, at least in a general sense, where you want to go and what you want to do in your life needs to be achieved before you are realistically able to create a functional relationship with another person of the same level of maturity and self-knowledge (unless of course they are willing to give up their own dreams and plans in order to stay with you). (So I am talking about building a relationship with equality, not the old-fashioned kind where one person stays home, does the work, and invariably gets frustrated with this kind of desperate life.)

But you not only need the maturity and self-knowledge, you need a deeply shared interest in something. Good examples are couples who are both politicians, both professors, or both working in medical care. Those create opportunities for making things work: employment can usually be found close to each other and there is always something to talk about. Beyond those interests there are usually other common interests that are less difficult to find (you both like chocolate ice cream, hiking, dancing, watching movies, pizza, etc.). Additionally, the deeply shared interest will probably also mean that there are shared values (another crucial thing).

For those of us who are so professionally, or personally, driven that we must live in a remote place or move from job to job, post to post, across the globe, then no matter how wonderful we may be we will probably be limited to short- or medium-term love affairs that leave us alone in the end. Of course some of us can be completely happy and strong living the solo life....

Creativity v. Kindness

I find myself feeling like part of the family here even when outside of my town. Just by watching the news on the tele I feel the strong bonds working on me. Perhaps more than any other community I've been a part of - counting Claremont, Putney, Cambridge, Siena, Maui - I've felt the post-partem anxiety well before actually parting. It's almost inconceivable that I would leave Ubuyama - it's akin to betrayal. To put it simply I do not feel good about leaving this town or this country. It means saying goodbye to something that will be too far away for too long....

But this is not because I have the life of a king here. Quite the contrary, I am little more than a lonely monk in my town five or six days of the week. There are the few, but cherished, hours of sunshine: teaching the kids. The eight 4th and 5th graders today were so delightful to teach. (They are learning numbers 11 through 30.) And the two students in the 1st and 2nd grade class learn so much in a short time that I have to be creative and make them do yoga. But even with this brilliant sunshine in my life (of which I like to boast), I am not living the kind of life that I should be - the kind of life full of excitement, friends, and goals.

So why is it so hard to leave this place?

The Japan that I've been exposed to is extradorinarily kind. But that kindness comes with an enormous amount of responsibility. When someone bows to you and says "yiroshiku onegaishimasu" (roughly "please be nice to me"), that person is not only being fully respectful to you, he or she is also asking for you to give just as much, maybe even more, back.

There is a phrase in Japanese "the customer is god." This takes the phrase "the customer is always right" to an entirely different level. The culture of service here runs almost ubiquitously through society. It involves kindness, dedication, and politeness. Kindness can break down only when the important layer of politeness is abused; even so it is a rare occurrence.

The extraordinary kindness in Japan is coupled with a strange dearth of creativity. I've come to wonder whether creativity and kindness are somehow diametrically opposed; it seems that the individuals who assert their own (creative) voice and ideas are also the individuals who are considered the least kind, the least polite. It is unkind to be creative.

Back in my native country, the United States of America, there appears to be no lack of creativity. Partly because much of this creativity isn't pretty, it's not hard to wonder whether part of the classic American rudeness is attributable to crude creativity. I am talking about the kind of creativity that could also be deemed mere laziness, partisan politics, or rudeness. Creativity's bad side seems to be the force that makes harmony so difficult to achieve.

There is a special kind of harmony in Japan that is rarely disturbed. Like the excess of creativity in America, Japan's harmony also has its bad sides. Perhaps what I'd like to do in my life, on a very abstract level, it try to promote the kindest, most harmonious forms of creativity in society. America could benefit so much from more harmony and Japan could benefit so much from more creativity. A harmonious, creative society would be utopic, wouldn't it be?

Communities

There is a two-month countdown until I will find myself, yet again, in a new community. Of course I have many ideas about where I might be headed. So now I must be busy planning and organizing. It's hard to be two places at once; one where you know is just temporary and another that is a mystery waiting to be discovered.

I've found that my identity is different in each place I inhabit. In high school the island of Maui and rural Vermont transformed me into two entirely different people. It was not just the entirely different people that were surrounding me and helping to form my identity, it was also the entirely different environments that changed my attitude and lifestyle.

And for every community I become older even if my youth is more pronounced in a particular community.

I must go back to the office now... I just took an hour off to run seven kilometers in the sun of the hills surrounding the junior high school and it felt good. Now it's lunchtime....

To Brag

Something happened just minutes ago that made me really happy and since I have no one else to tell I thought I'd tell you.

I was running through my town when these two elementary school siblings starting chasing me with their little bikes. They chased me all the way back to where I park my car and I showed them my car and told them that I understand some Japanese (they never really knew because I am always teaching them in English). Then they asked me what I was going to do and I said I was going to cook. And they asked "What?," so I said (in Japanese): rice, nori, daikon, and natto. They said "Natto! I want to eat Natto." And then I asked them if they had any and they argued for a few moments and then agreed that they had finished their natto at home. So I said "hold on," and ran into my house to get some yen. Then I ran down to the village market and bought them some natto for 180 yen and wrapped it in the plastic bag and offered it to them as a present to their family. At first the older sister wouldn't accept it but then, in a spark of healthy self-interest, the little one happily accepted the gift.

This event has brought a lot of warmth to my heart in a time when it's been feeling a little unheated. I recommend a random act of kindness or two when you are feeling down.

For those of you who don't know, natto is rotten soy beans. Eat up, they're good for you!

Tuesday!

It's already Tuesday and I am starting my day in the Junior High office. Wish me luck as I will be diligently working all day.

It's raining today and as the millions upon millions of raindrops water the millions of tons of foliage and rows of Cedars I ponder how much is happening all at once.

There are many people I wish to see and talk to as of late. Where have you all wandered to since I have wandered away to this far and distant land?

May 23, 2006. A funny day. I am well slept but buzzed from some strong coffee I made for myself this morning. The office seems like it's floating around me right now. Who can explain the reality that I live in? I think I've lost that ability as of right now.

Mondays

Mondays can be rough. So find your friends and hold hands in a circle. Sing your favorite song. See how many glasses of water you can drink in a one-minute period. Clear your mind and accept the great wisdom of pure ignorance. Or the great ignorance of pure wisdom. Before you know it it will be Friday again.

That Special Feeling

My head's still a little fuzzy inside due to the drinking party at Yamaga Elementary School last night after a wild and funky sports festival that ran from 8:30am to after 4. There was a brawl at the after party of the first party. We were all sitting on the floor at low tables complete with beautiful trays of sashimi and other edibles when the biggest of all of the dads decided to take down a smallish dad. This involved strangling the smaller dad. Others reacted quickly so no severe damage was done to either party. However the tone of the drinking party would never quite be the same and the tempers of the dads would never fully simmer down (as the bigger guy was being held outside). Supposedly the whole debacle was over the younger dad's not using polite language to his senior.

In spite of the fuzzy head I've had some fruitful ideas/feelings recently. When sitting in the very old house of a ceramicist in my town while rain was pouring down I was reminded of the peacefulness that I had hoped for when I requested to live in the country for this job. And then after visiting a temple in Oita-ken at which there is a huge sculpture carved in a rock face, probably hundreds of years old, I was again reminded of the peacefulness that I enjoy.

It's true that although I live in one of the most remote parts of my prefecture it feels nothing like the countryside I had imagined before coming. If I leave my house and get myself into the forests and narrow country roads then I find myself feeling the place. But my house and the surrounding houses somehow interfere with that special feeling.

There is an ideal self that I can sometimes imagine. It is a self with regular access to the peace of the countryside combined with regular access to meaningful friendship and occupation. Then I am able to become what I beleive to be my best. Therefore living in the kind of city, or even the kind of country village, that interferes too much with that special feeling (and those special friendships) is something I wish to avoid.

This is a town I could've worked in for three years and I am leaving after only one. Luckily the brevity my time here only accentuates the specialness of the experience. Although my boss, the kids, and the parents all wanted me to stay for three years I know that leaving Japan is probably the best way for me to go and find that special feeling that I've been reminded of again. Until then the time seems to disappear from under my feet as each week passes without notice. Maybe it's because of the weakness of our memory that time seems to seem shorter after it has passed. Strange lives we live.

This evening it decided to get sunny for a couple hours between downfalls of rain. I went out to get some fresh air and found myself in the peaceful hills now covered in lush green. Once winter is gone it seems as if it were never here at all... and for a few moments I thought about what it would be like to never leave this town for the rest of my life... then I walked on and got my camera from my house and took some pictures.

Are You Searching for Love?

One guy said that one must be willing to die for the person one is "in love with" or it isn't "true love." Another bloke said that love is about seeing yourself in another person. I beg to differ, especially with the first guy.

Most people assume they want "love," that love is something to be desired. I think that they get this from watching too many movies and being heavily socialized by a culture that perpetually manipulates and covers the truth with pretty and false surfaces.

I think that what people want underneath all of the jargon and lies is something quite different. What people want is something I'll call "profound companionship." One of the reasons that this gets so easily compounded with what is known as "love" is that some special ways of achieving "profound companionship" are through various activities that can often fall prey to the culture of the romantic (like sex). Sexuality, of course, is not necessarily romantic at all (sometimes quite the opposite). On a certain level, sex is merely an activity, however pleasurable, for making offspring (and this is more clearly the case with many other species).

What I see as the most desirable connection with another human being is not the romance seen in the movies, but rather, a kind of mutual seeing yourself in another person that allows for a very rare form of interpersonal understanding. It's the kind of "love" that would comfort you in the toughest times because you know that at least one person, besides any family members, understands you on the most profound levels. Understandably, this kind of connection is very rare and probably happens more with close friends. This is obviously a very personal take on love that relates to my own identity strongly. However I will take the liberty to say that it is a prevalent feeling among people despite how unlikely that seems. Just think to yourself: if you die, how do you want to be remembered by the one who knew you the best? Do you want to be just another person out of many friends or do you want to be someone who was understood on a special level that is rarely achieved? Do your friendships/relationships matter to you on this level? Everyone's different.

The Ladies Man, in his feature film of the same title, read a poem that goes "Is not love not unlike the unlikely not it is unlikened to?" I think this quote could very well represent the kind of strange, almost perverted, confusion that goes into most peoples' idealization of love. They want that sort of romance that could be found in a Disney movie. The truth is that nothing really human ever happens in those movies. There are no bathroom scenes like those in the comedies "Dumb and Dumber" and "There's Something about Mary," there are rarely any diaper-changing scenes, etc.. The dirty, less pretty sides of life are almost always filtered out. (Raising children, for example.) To put it briefly, young people tend to obsess over romance and the kind of "love" they see in the movies. I am guessing this changes, for most people, sometime in the late-twenties or mid-thirties when (I've noticed) people, all of a sudden, seem to become a lot more practical, and a lot less romantic. (Not to say that romantic older people do not exist).

Of course I am still but a youngling of my species and I do not pretend to hold all the answers. To the contrary - I see myself as just one trying to cope and trying to learn through experience. I like to call my form of understanding an attempt of phenomenology - an understanding that explains experience through how things are experienced rather than through opaque metaphors and terminology. But most likely I make the same mistakes with language, cliches, etc that most everyone does. Then again, who cares? This is a time of decadence - a time when clear thinking is not only rare but rarely demanded for, when self-understanding is just another word in a self-improvement book, and when everyone can have a voice, no matter how unskilled they may be at speaking that voice. So I easily become forgiven (as a matter of fact I can just forgive myself right now). I do appreciate the democratic-ness of it all; if only the so-called equality could be matched with an understanding, pro-active populace that could demand better leadership.

birds

Things get even more crazy when you consider the fact that we primates share this earth with some of the weirdest beings. Here are just a couple pictures of birds from the zoo.

They say it's all happening at the zoo....

I went to the Kumamoto Zoo this weekend. I met a chimpanzee. This was the first time in my life that I met a chimpanzee. I also met other animals.

The animals were mostly in pretty sad shape, however the diversity and depth of the zoo, which only cost about $3 to get in, was pretty impressive. Some animals managed to be happy despite the poor housing and less than ideal weather. One of the chimps I met was very interested in hanging out with me. Instead of throwing his feces at me or biting off my thumb (like other chimapanzees have been known to do) this chimp displayed his teeth by spreading out his lips in a sort of absurd smile and then nodded hysterically every time I answered a question, even the question "can you shake your head?" (which he didn't seem to be able to do despite my modeling the action for him). He had the most bizarre backside (as chimps tend to have); next time I'll get a picture of it for you all to admire.

There were many monkeys there. It was my second time seeing primates other than humans. As some of you may know my senior thesis in college was, in part, an exploration of the effect that the learning of evolution had on Kafka's thought. Monkeys in particular fascinated the young writer enough that he devoted one entire story to a chimp. I must say they fascinate me too. Never before was I exposed to so much of my ancient "ancestral, genetic cousins." They can teach us a thing or two about ourselves (and some not-to-pretty things they can be indeed; but I'd rather be aware than ignorant, eh).Of course there were more than monkeys there. There were elephants, giraffes, a two-humped camel, a jaguar, a lion, some seriously disturbed bears (inculding a Polar), many birds, and.... rhinos and hippos, and many more. I felt like one of the hundreds of nursery school kids wandering around and looking at all of the special, if severly depressed, animals.

There'll never be another moment quite like this moment again. That's the truth. The question is what to do about it.

The sun is setting now and the light is reflecting off of the water of the rice paddy. I am in the middle of the Korean action-mystery-thriller "Old Boy;" I taught my 8 sixth graders at Hokubu elementary the hokie pokie today and they were happier than shit about it.

The Phenomenology of Socialistic Power in Japan

In Japan power is modified by the usual elements of giving and taking: through respect, money (including shelter, water, and food) , cooperation, and positive feedback. However, these elements are emphasized and exercised in different ways than in other cultures.

Ask yourself the question: how could Theo - such an adamant individual of sorts - decide to live in a tiny village for a year and all the while act like a proper Japanese person in as many ways as I am capable? It's more complicated than it seems.

Last night I was at my India Ink class and finishing a work on a pine-tree piece. I was already copying a version that my teacher had made me (that is how we are supposed to do it). Then as I was approaching the finishing touches, which were less than insignificant, my teacher decided to do them for me, almost out of the desire to keep what I had started as nice as it had been (or so I thought). She then finished it, putting some of the most bold marks on the page without any advice from its [albeit already secondary, because I was copying the model she had given me] creator. Then she finished, admired the piece and even tried it on the wall for a look. The two other ladies in the class clapped and I was confused if I should feel at all responsible for the piece. My teacher said she would take it home and flatten it for me so that I could put my Japanese stamp on it (my two Chinese characters that represent my name "Tedo" and are translated as "philosopher man").

Somehow all individuality of my work was stolen away from me without any loss to my own high status in the class as a quick learner. The respect and cheering from my teacher and classmates not only turned me into a copycat (which is part of the tradition), but furtermore, into a fake who doesn't even produce his own art.

This is just one example of how the system of socialistic power can work on an individual. The kids are all funneled through an education system with many of the same traits as my India ink class. The positive feedback from teachers, parents, and classmates (not just the fact that everyone else is doing it) keeps certain forms of individualism from being probable.

Through this lens my job appears in a different light. It seems like the perfect job for an opportunistic person with little or no direction in life (unless one's direction is learning Japanese and Japanese-style teaching, which would make this job closer to ideal). For I am rewarded with countless measures of respect, a very decent salary, affordable housing, and healthcare all for the somewhat simple price of obeying the rules and gently giving up much of my individualism (especially through having much of my person be unreadable/untranslatable to those around me). It can be a small price to pay for so many benefits, but in the end it allows little room for being who you want to be.

One of the reasons I am being so exhaustive in these explanations is because one of the major forces of this society (filial piety) is working on me to produce a certain amount of sadness and guilt for leaving this community. And when I have sadness and guilt I generally try to purge it from my system rather than cover it up and hide it. I take the "better chuck it" approach rather than the "digest and hope for the best" approach. But I'll be OK in a matter of time, and I will probably have to digest a little bit as well.

The kids who make this town

Today I was co-teaching a class of what in America would be called "eighth graders" but are the second (of three) years at junior high in Japan. I reflected on the fact that at the same age in my hometown kids were dropping tabs, smoking bowls, and having kids, whereas here they play with Winnie the Pooh keychains and hold their friends' hands.

A while ago I wrote that these kids may be the cutest kids in the world. I still stand by that claim. Their cuteness lies not only in the physical, but in the mental and social as well. They are so well behaved, so kind to each other, and so positively minded. You may only get to see the photos I post here but meeting them, or better yet, teaching them is the only way to really understand what I mean.

Which brings me to something I wanted to put into my farewell speech: that for me to stay in this town would be a crime in that it would prevent someone else from experiencing the beauty and purity of the humanity that exists here. I am happy that someone else will get to live here; I don't think I will be ever so blessed again.

* * * * * * *

In my last post I neglected to mention one of the major transitions that coming home will require. I will have to give up my social status and re-adapt to one that gives much less respect in America (being but a normal human). Here I am treated like an ambassador, like a "sensei," a foreign prince, and even in other towns where I am unknown I am appreciated just for the fact that I am different (even if some of the attention is unwanted or inconvenient). So I must climb down my temporary ladder of social praise and adapt to the old one where I am but a 23 year old Caucasian like so many others. The irony is that despite the shift in social status I am able to obtain a much more challlenging, meaningful job in my home country, so not all is lost....

changes in the head

Three months from now I will most likely be on a plane for somewhere in America. Three months ago I signed a form that made it impossible for me to stay in my town. At that time that was the path I had to take so I made the decision also knowing that if I were to come back to America I could then not live in the loophole of life that Japan offers people like me. Still, almost every other JET teacher I know and like is staying next year; I am the abnormality and the one who has to leave everyone else. And I don't blame them for wanting to stay in such a nice place with such accomodating jobs.

Today I shaved my head. Now my hair is around 12mm short. Back in the day shaving my head used to make me feel like a new person; today it did not exactly do that (but it does feel nice to have taken the weight off of my head and to allow the extra air to reach my scalp).

This year I learned a lot about how a human brain (namely mine) can work. I learned that the pathways in my brain could be channeled and set on courses that are very hard to change - and in the scenario where they must be changed it is not an easy task. (I apologize for the necessary vagueness of this idea).

It just so happens that after I shaved my head today I went on a run in my new shoes, which felt like running on air... And after that run I ran into one of my favorite students, the jokster Hideaki. Then, in the best Japanese that he's probably ever heard Tedo-sensei utter, I told him that I only have three months left. He was surprised and I think that a tear almost welled up in his eyes. He had had no idea of course. Somehow it's kept a big secret. But I imagine that to almost every one of the students here they assume that I am a relatively permanent mantle piece of their school life despite the fact that I arrived less than a year ago. I am not feeling good about breaking the pathways in their brains that makes them think this way. I know it will be a sad day when I must give my farewell speech. Empathy hurts.

Which brings me to a thought I had about emotional tipping points: how for so long you can feel almost emotion-less and then there is a point where it all changes and hits you. Perhaps some people have a more steady flow of certain emotions; sometimes I wonder if that wouldn't be better for society if people were more in touch with the emotional truth of events in their lives. But how to? I wonder how a life of moving from place to place affects how one emotes...

That's [more than] enough from my head for you tonight.

Your Buddy, Ted

The Kyoto Duck and the Environment

What the Kyoto duck wants to say to you so proudly is this: "I am a duck. I live in Kyoto. You may think that the world is increasingly getting destroyed by the human hand, but you must remember that at this very instant the world is more beautiful and more pristine that it may ever be again and that you must appreciate this gift you have."

I am reading Bill Clinton's Part II autobiography. I want to feel the rush of being a president for a while.

I just got back from half a week of travels through this beautiful island. I am thoroughly convinced that Kyushu is the ultimate island of Japan's major four. Hokkaido may be more untouched but it doesn't have the amazing weather or ancient history that this island has. Well what I should really say is that I love this island.

On the first day of Golden Week I helped plant rice. Nakamura-san used a Yanmar rice-planting tractor. It was pretty cool. I always wanted to plant rice and now I have.

Then I drove to the beaches of Miyazaki where I saw heat waves and cool surfers. Then I went to the best city in Japan: Kumamoto City.

I will miss this place. I intend to come back every May and help plant rice here. I would be very happy if I could afford to do that and if my future job will allow me to take those days off.

Until next time, sayonara amigos.
~Teodoro

life wa nan desuka?

Life is just as real as death, and it is also just as surreal. The dreams of our nights can live into our days, or perhaps our days offer an even more intense form of dream - a form of dream that overcomes oneself, rendering one unable to perceive, unable to feel, what is real (precisely because it is the time that we assume we are most aware of the world - it's a trap).

* * * * * * *

The atmosphere exists above and around us much like the windows in our home. The only difference is we cannot open the windows of the atmosphere. Every day I think I can feel the changes to the air, even in the countryside. I fear that I will never get to breathe true fresh air because there are so many human gases in the air. I would do anything to find and keep that purity again.

* * * * * * *

The musical group Outkast has some lyric about how bad people are, for we seem to be the only species that truly bites, and perhaps is biting off, the ultimate mother that feeds us all.

* * * * * * *

I think that if humanity fails it is because we cannot realize the reality that we are able to conceptualize. There is some gap between our feelings and our concepts that turns us into problematic little beasts. By realize I mean more than conceptualize, I mean to feel and to hold; for 'reality' to not let go of those emotions that most powerfully drive us. And yet 'reality' does not have that power over us. That it does not possess this power is both a blessing and a curse, a tool for survival, an anesthetic for death, and, at its best, provides ways to create new goodnesses.

* * * * * * *

Perhaps the only way for reality to "have its day" is for it to physically act on us. That is how it will ultimately change and challenge. Those sensitive to it will probably feel its changes sooner; and some may never feel it. In society 'reality' becomes a cultural, social, and political topic for its definition. No one can agree about it. But as itself, in its purest form so to speak, it is the greater force that runs through us and surrounds us in time and space.

one year soon

I was just looking back on the months I have been in Ubuyama. And as I look at the posts it seems that it was such a short time. It surprised me a little because the last 9 months or so since I arrived here have felt like a miniature eternity. The next three months also seem like a long time to go even with the knowledge of how the weeks dwindle and go almost without notice.

It's a blessing and a curse when short amounts of calendar time equate to long amounts of lifetime. It's as if you're off-schedule with almost everyone else. Then you come home and people will say, "it's been a year" and I will think "but it was more than a year...." At the same time I am confident that many of my friends feel the same way about the year.

How will I look down on this year after I have ascended from it in time? Perhaps as the crazy year where I ate snake, took care of toddlers, and felt the wisps of solitude. The year that I was allowed a year of vacation from my usual reality.

My friends down the road call the JET Program "the world's biggest loophole," because it involves paying a bunch of mostly clueless, if decently intelligent, foreigners to sit around mostly doing nothing. And then there are the ones who live in isolation, there are the ones who live with groups of other foreigners and learn almost no Japanese, and there are the ones who have a lot of work (mostly the high school ALTs and prefectural advisors) or create a lot of "extra-curricular" work for themselves as if the JET program were an extension of college. Usually, however, it can be little more than a hiatus from normal life for these people, sometimes a well-needed hiatus, and sometimes a hiatus that then transforms what normal life means (for example some people move here permanently or decide to teach English in other foreign countries). And Japan receives its own benefits from having us here, even from the lazy ones.

The life of the world traveler today is perhaps one that is almost impossible to justly chronicle. It involves so many details that become the swarm of past events and feelings that can thunder around inside us like a tempest, randomly spewing out pieces or sections, at any given moment, to remind us of what happened before. Some travelers, especially the ones who travel for the bulk of their lives, can be their only chronicle, if that. Writing down or representing their journies becomes practically impossible; even their selves, in the flesh, cannot display/remember what has formulated their past. Of course this is not yet how I feel my own life has become-but it is something I feel it could become if I travel much more. And yet it is not a terrible fate. Rather, it is an enticingly interesting state, even with its drawbacks.