Happiness

photo by Ume Kayo

Happiness occurs when I least expect it. It comes from moments of deep appreciation that someone else might not notice. Birds swooping past power lines against an orange morning after a night of karaoke, or a smile from a stranger in a funny hat. I don't have to go to the Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls and stand in front of vast and majestic wonders to appreciate life, and be happy.

I can have hot tea and biscuits, use inky pens on recycled paper and feel the softness of my grandmothers cheeks. I could dip my hand in uncooked rice, practice whistling or make a mix tape. I can smell the crispy bendy pages of my favourite magazines or write an anonymous note of encouragement to a stranger. I can strive for happiness in unexpected moments and endeavor to never ever let my day be mundane, instead, a little bit spectacular.

I love books like Into the Wild and The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Protagonists who search deep within themselves to find answers to questions that have riddled them for years. It's a great thing to explore this big wide world and ask 'what is all of this?' all the while holding tightly to your ability to imagine and experience awe. This doesn't mean you have to have lots of money to travel all around the world, just explore further than your front gate, your street, your suburb. And at very worse, if you can't leave, step into your imagination.

What if you have no imagination? What if, horror of horrors, you lost it some time ago when you were departing childhood in eager anticipation of the freedoms of adult life? Then read a children's book, go for walks in unexplored locations, sit alone with pen and paper and see what happens.

No one thinks like you. No one will ever produce what ends up on that piece of paper. We all see the world so differently. If your imagination has deserted you it will come back, because it never wanted to leave in the first place.

Crossing time zones

Slow life

 

When I left New Zealand I had rings under my eyes. Sorry Wellington I love you, but you really wore me out. Six years in the wind and the rain left me tired. Life was so busy and I took pride in everything I was achieving even if my mental health was suffering slightly. 

When I came to Japan I couldn't believe how hard everyone worked. My co workers come in at 8am and leave at 8pm. They looked tired. They don't take weekends. Inexplicably I have been granted some kind of magical gaijin (foreigner) pass which means I leave the office at 4.30pm every day and everyone thinks this is okay.

Despite my co workers hard working tendencies I have noticed a trend in Japanese culture that promotes a slow life. My favourite Japanese magazine is ku nel. This loosely translates to eating/sleeping. The magazine has a fat blobby tellytub like mascot who languidly lounges across the pages. He is full of food and ready for a nap. The fat blobby mascot wouldn't like gossip magazines, hair straighteners or energy drinks . He would say 'eat and sleep instead!'

The slow culture goes against everything we are supposed to do in our fast paced lives, especially the pace of Asian modern life. The slow culture tells us to savour the food we eat and never be hungry, to smell the flowers, pot a plant, listen to music, sleep for as long as we want and take a bath. Most importantly, don't be tired, be happy. 

The film Megane or Glasses has a complete devotion to the slow pace culture with the main character escaping city life to encounter a holiday of eating, serene surroundings and a strange yoga like poses on the beach. Very little happens in the movie, but I think that's okay. Nothing has to happen. It's a refreshing to take a break all the same.

Growing up is nice

It never fails to amaze me how differently we see the world. The diversity of appreciation and the 100 million different ways in which a thought can float through a persons mind boggles my own thoughts completely. 

What do you notice when you walk down the street? What makes you appreciate life?

I like looking at power lines, staring at peoples eyebrows, the patterns cracks make on the concrete, old people with funny hats and finding abandoned books, especially if there are inscriptions on the inside cover.  

When I even try to think about what everyone else is noticing my head implodes. I really like what Patrick Tsai and Coley Brown notice. Their blog is tops. You can find it here.