An autobiography in short--for a class

I was born in the Northern Island of Japan, called Sapporo. I was raised and spent most of my life in Tokyo Japan. I do not consider myself a person of permanent residence, and so I have resolved to call wheresoever I currently reside my home. Thus, I now live in CO. I am a professional student with a part time job in the Japanese tour-guiding industry. To juxtapose my name with marriage may cause involuntary gastrointestinal reflexes--please refrain from this topic in my presence. I am in this course to learn and to be prepared for whatever lies ahead. It is also a requirement to graduate...but I suppose that lies ahead as well. I expect to work quite hard in 5 weeks, I expect to become proficient in at least the basic concepts dictating lawful conduct as it relates to business activities.

Trip to Missouri

Upon this great and momentous occasion that now is justifies this glorious piece of aesthetic writing, I shall commence with great pleasure this note. It was at a time approximately two-thirds through the dark, dreary semester that I embarked on a journey of the soul. Unlike previous journeys which avoided the residence of my passport as much as the valley girls which it produced, this time I embarked cross-country to the great and hilly state of Missouri. Much intrepidity marked my first impressions of this land for I had never before traveled within the limits of this land mass and I feared, as all men do, that perhaps this new experience would be one that is altogether undesirable and thus unworthy of being repeated. Yes, for me this is an expedition into the miry countryside of new experiences. Would it not be for my strong bias against the home of my passport I would have been less afeared as I was across the west of Europe and in many of my travels in the eastern portion of Asia. Notwithstanding all other trivial matters, I began the expedition an exact week before the advent of thanksgiving. Though the advent itself was a lighthearted time, ‘twas indeed a difficult to be of cheer given that my companion in travels, a man of relative stature whose bright blue eyes and pastel yellow hair rival Hitler’s archetypal erian man, had recently received news of his dearest friends looming death. So this evening we departed with heavy hearts, minds transcendent of mundane matters, and perhaps most notably a strong desire to begin our journey across two states into Missouri.

We embarked far later in the evening than was necessary at one hour to midnight. Although perhaps not a logical decision by any means, the late embarkation was an escape from normalcy; no longer were we tied to our regular abode—no, we were emancipated men escaping from the grips of university academia and embracing on a new adventure in the East. Conversations both meaningful and humorous held by the streaking lights of fellow oncoming night-goers characterized our late-night escape. Though by three-hours past midnight we both had a mind to get some sleep in order to better prepare for the next day’s travels. Seeing as we were people of meager funds and in desperate need thereof, we agreed on pulling off on a gravel road and sleeping under the stars. Though I have consistently been informed from a myriad of sources on Kansas’ lack of anything good and holy in its baron plains, this is where I first found an inconsistency; for the stars in Kansas that night were beyond what I had seen before. From one flat horizon to the next, the stars graced their flickering colors in such a way as to create a bubble of illumination that spanned horizontally of our position and rose clear up to the expanses of heaven above. Laying on one’s back and looking directly skyward, one could easily be forgiven for thinking that he was somehow transported into heaven itself. This and a brisk Northerly wind combined to create a beautiful and mystical ambiance under which to make our stead.

The following day began with a jolt as me and my fellow traveler were woken up to the sound of a lone vehicle speeding its way past our exposed abode. Each crunch of gravel under its tires was distinctly accounted for as the oncoming vehicle got closer and louder until the noise reached its climax just a few feet from our heads. We rose that morning cursing the early schedule of farmers but also to amazement at the flatness of the area upon which we stood. As a carpet, the green land rolled out in all directions around us speckled only by sparse trees and occasional dots of cattle clear until the union of earth and sky at the horizon. We resumed our journey across the green plains after a swig of water from our jug and the hesitant consumption of soggy, left over sandwiches—though we did not set out with high standards; we were in Kansas after all. Fortunately, Kansas did not cease to surprise us past that first night.

Kansas can mostly be described as a desolate wasteland—though not desolate in vegetation per say, but rather in sight worthy aspects; lest you consider cattle and endless fields a subject of interest. Note that I said Kansas consisted mostly of wasteland; this implies that it was not all wasteland and thus must contain some elements of interest or variety. Me and my companion Daniel discovered both of these anomalous points of interest in Kansas; another misconception dashed—that Kansas is void of all things interesting and worthwhile. In a dazed muse created by a combination of the endless droning of the engine and the constant blare of high pitched rap tunes, I spotted something unusual on the flat planes of Kansas—something not flat. This of course contradicted all previous reports of Kansas and beckoned to be explored in a more conclusive manner—Daniel agreed wholeheartedly and bolstered the idea by stating that he too had been contemplating a similar investigation. So in the middle of brown fields under a deep blue sky we exited the highway to discover the story behind this non-flat phenomenon. The terrain being as it was, we had not problem navigating to the structure, which, as we drew nearer began to take the shape of a five story high European-style cathedral. Upon closer inspection we saw that the cathedral, fashioned in true European style, composed of flying buttresses, ornate stain-glass windows, and even a bell tower and steeple. In Kansas this five-story behemoth had no contextual justification in the least. Perhaps in Europe among ancient brick-paved streets, hairy women, the German language, and a history of Catholicism, this cathedral would have been common place, but in Kansas? Not to mention that this large new-looking cathedral graced an all but abandoned, tumble-weed plagued Kansas town with a sanctuary that could accommodate triple the town’s inhabitance. So there we stood in front of the cathedral doors at the edge of an abandoned town, tumble-weed and brown leaves made eddies around our ankles in the desolate wind as we stretched our necks back looking up to the bell tower. As expected the doors were open and the true detail of the building was again seen on the innards of it what with the usual icons of this saint this and that, Mary and the baby Jesus, the alter, the art, the confession boxes; nothing too unusual—save for its location and size. After a complete and thorough inspection of the sanctuary and its graveyard (which was very nondescript and disappointingly offered no epitaphs and trite information of the bereaved) Daniel and I decided it was high time to continue our journey through this boring, yet occasionally curious state.

Trials in a semi-silent room.

I am sitting in a room with no other sound in it but that of a frustrated middle aged man talking on his cell phone. Every word he says bounces around in the solitary silence of this study area. as a rough estimate i would say that 90% of everything he is talking about is completely self centric, and the other 10% is all his Californian valley girl-isims including "oh, my gosh" and "are you serious?" etc. all pronounced with a slight lisp. But you have to understand that this is not a normal "are you serious?" its the kind that you hear lame-shopping mall chicks saying when they discover that their favorite body works store just ran out of their favorite body butter. If I were facing this man I am convinced that I would have seen little scandalized hand gestures and rolling eyes. For the sake of all that is good in this world, you are a middle aged balding man! Please immediately desist your self-centered conversation or take it to the ladies room or where ever it is that you use facilities! To make it worse, he has been whining for the last 1.5 hours and venting the deepest laments of his shallow heart in a completely audible decibel level in this silent study area! In the midst of studies I cannot help but feel sorry for this deranged soul. After the first hour I began to doubt if there was anyone in the world who would actually put up with this kind of one sided phone conversation; there were no silent spaces in which another party could interject with soothing anecdotes of happiness and joy through trials.

Trials in a semi-silent room.

大統領

This will be my second birthday in a row spent in the Japan Alps. Really nothing to complain about, in fact, its great. Today I had a chocolate cake covered in choco-peanuts (the best thing about Japan, in my oppinion). It read "Happy Birthday 大統領"　(president, thats what they call me)Not only that, but I had a Japanese style yakiniku barbeque (way better than American burgers and crap) and I was surrounded by sweet people. Tomorrow (which is my bearthday) I will be heading up into the Alps on a 3-day backpacking trip with the other staff at Northstar. We're going to eat Japanese noodles, scout some climbing spots, do some inniciative games, sleep in tents, I'll get some more experience guiding, and everyone will go home happy...unless someone dies.

Since last I bloged many things have happened: my brother Ryan got married at Takayama in Sendai (best place ever) I dont have any pics but my sister does. You can check her thing out at roberry.blogspot.com. It was pretty much the best wedding ever. A lot of work, but a lot of fun. And seeing the fam again is a rare treat. Why don't we live closer together anyways? I mean really; Colorado, Washington, California, Japan, and Oregon---not exacty right next door to eachother. But I guess thats how the cookie crumbled.

In other news, it looks like I'll be climbing Fuji a few times this summer, which will be great. All together I think this summers going to be one of the best.

outa here suckers!

Alas my friends, the time is nigh for another “I’m leaving the country” post. The past six months have been spent living in America. Six months is a new record for time spent living in America since I was 13, and I have to say, the experience was…average. In retrospect there was much skiing, much working, much acquisition of worldly outdoorsy goods, surprisingly little time spent being a student (Community College seems to have made a whole new definition for the term “full time student”), a fair amount of time spent on familial engagements, and little time spent doing things with any manner of people that could be called “friends”. Unfortunate as it was, forgoing friendships and all things meaningful that I had developed in my life in BC was the only way to have direction in my life. You see, I have this thing; its like when your pants are on fire and your underpants are filled with red ants and lobsters—its like that. Only all the time. The burning drives me forward constantly so in reflexive action to the fire, red ants, and lobsters I run franticly forward in a randomized and erratic pattern. But in the process I seem to shake off many dear friends. And it saddens my heart greatly to shake off more again. There are three things that humans were never meant to experience: death, disease, and farewells. Unfortunately all are an inevitable part of our futile existences here on planet “Global Warming Will Kill Us All”.

Anyways, I’m off to Japan tomorrow (Thursday, June 14th) so I wish you all many babies and flowery cakes. I will be in Japan working as a guide in the Northern Japan Alps and Mount Fuji with Northstar Outdoor Adventures again. Should be a pretty good time. I’ll be in J-town until late August sometime.

On a lighter note I came up with an idea that seems to support reincarnation. Here’s the idea:
1. If a person hits his head, his memory can be lost or altered forever. He might not remember his name, how to do simple math, or even how to speak. He will not remember who he is married to, who his family is, nothing. He will have to relearn everything.

2. If a person hits his head, his personality can be altered forever. His wife will claim that she doesn’t know him any more, he will be more aggressive or less ambitious, the chemicals in his brain will have changed somehow so that the person you formerly knew as John is now gone and replaced by this new person.

Conclusion:
The soul has no memory or personality in and of itself. If memory can be altered with relative ease by inflicting damage on the physical brain, who would disagree that brain is the only part of a human that retains memory? And when that memory retainer is altered or ceases , there is nothing to fill in. Similarly, if personality can be altered simply with a hammer, does this mean that the death of the brain is the true end of a humans personality? In this argument one could conclude that the soul retains neither memory nor personality; it is simply that which is necessary to provide life, and that which leaves when the body ceases functioning. So if the soul leaves at the time of death (as seems obvious that it does) then where does this life-giving, but impersonal force go? Would it not seek out another creation to give life to? Hence, reincarnation.

Seems to make sense eh? It almost makes too much sense. I haven’t been able to find a counter argument yet. Let me know what you think though, I don’t like that philosophy at all and I want to be rid of it.

library skylight

Sitting below a large opaque skylight in a library I was typing at a computer tending to my extremely dull homework. The skylight that spanned most the way across the library ceiling suddenly got dark and as though an angel accidentally stabbed his sward into the thin canvass of the heavens, the reservoirs from above gave way—each drop of which could easily be accounted for as I heard the deafening droplets assail the foggy skylight. The sound commanded my attention and I looked up. And I thought of you suddenly, are you in the rain? Where had you gone? People, when they go away leave at least some indication of where they are going, but you have departed in silence; silence that speaks in the rain and now deafens me. Do you rise with the sun in the east or glide on the waves of the air? Teach me, teach me how to live my life! A cold draft wrapped itself around my exposed ankles, had that draft always been there? I couldn’t remember. With as much might as with it first began, the deafening barrage of rain stopped, the skylight lit up once more, and I looked around the library expecting something to be different from two minutes ago. But everyone was busy with their computers focusing on some mundane assignment. No, nothing had changed. Nothing perhaps except for me.

paradoxical

There are those people I occasionally meet who are paradoxical to me. We all know that horrible experiences screw people up; parent dies as a kid, abuse of some form or another, overdose of some form or another, and BANG you’re one messed up kid. Its typical for these people to live in gutters or just have a lot a baggage that they carry around. This is normal. But have you met those who have had horrible experiences (horrible enough to warrant a minimum of 10 years of gutter living) and yet somehow seem to over come? These are the paradox-gems. I have met only two such paradoxes (the first one I assumed was an anomaly, but the second time around can be no coincidence) who live with such joy that it literally blows me away. I stand and watch them astounded at their interactions, inspired by their love for people, dumfounded by their wisdom, amazed at their selflessness, and I am left mouth agape seeing these people in light of their past. What great hurtles were overcome and what great wounds healed for this person to stand in front of me now? Confounding. These incite my greatest curiosity and my most profound admiration.

Tell me, what do you know that I don't, what power do you posses, what hidden truths discovered? How do you smile with that glimmer in your eyes and wide genuine smile. Paradox, what has experience taught that you to live so richly.

Or could it be that deepest suffering is the cornerstone of truest life.