The Phenomenon of Realization and Growth: Old Me meet New Me

Fancy Meeting You Here~

It has been 1 month nearly to the day since I began reaping the benefits of being outside the states, away from home and the familiar routines, in a completely different state of mind than perhaps I have ever known. This transformation of emotional self-understanding is not an easy one to undergo, nor is it fast or convenient. Hardest of all in this evolution of self is the ever present reminder of past mistakes. These are the things that grind deep within the gears of one's soul. What I'm talking about are the insensitive mistakes I have made that I regret. The ones I wish I could take back only for an instant, to maybe see how it would have changed where I am now, specifically in terms of relationships and the paths which they travel. Also in terms of life choices, ambitions and philosophies.

These are all very deep and personal things that we all must confront at times in our lives, potentially when we are the most alone. These are confronted at the times when we are allowed to realize exactly how small we truly are on this earth, how insignificant. These for me are welcome moments of self retrospection and self introspection with the fullest intentions of positive growth and improvement as a thoughtful outcome. It has been a long time since I have really questioned why I do what I do, how I do what I do, and whom I choose to surround myself with. This is a very valuable time to recognize what I am proud of and the laurels on which I have rested for far too long. Learning to learn again, leaning towards love again and giving way to growth once more. This is what I'm here for.

When was the last time you realized you aren't who you thought you were and felt incredibly small? When was the last time you made an effort to improve yourself beyond improving your bank account? When was the last time you spent time trying to answer not just a difficult personal question, but one you asked of yourself? They are the kind of questions that usually only a significant other might ask of you in order to prove a point. It's what happens when you allow yourself to be your own best friend, your own worst enemy and subsequently, your own significant other. It sounds depressing I know, but understand that these kinds of things need to occur in a person's life in order to accumulate knowledge and self determination. It must happen if one desires understanding and clarity, personal evolution and improvement.

To answer the questions I posed in the preceding paragraph, the last time I remember a marked experience of personal growth was after a couple of seasons of Drum Corps. There's nothing like hard work in every sense of the term to frustrate you into change. For me that series of experiences not only shaped my perceptions of hard work and dedication, passion and performance, but also gave me a new appreciation of isolation. By this I mean, on tour you live on a bus and on gym floors with 130 of your closest friends for months. It is the hardest times that you find yourself missing the routines and regularities of home. This is isolation. When you can be surrounded but so many people, but still feel lost and alone- isolated.

Hardships experienced in nearly any way can provide insight into what it is that you as a person take for granted.

Don't be mistaken, tour is pretty much all routine, and it is all dictated for you on a dry erase board on the side of your rolling cafeteria..(Mmmmm.... cheese bagels and tato bar... ahhhh.) It is the basic stuff you take for granted though- sleeping, showering and defecating in complete privacy. Having more than 10 minutes to digest before running a few miles. Basic stuff like that is completely glossed over by so many other things in "regular" or "real" life that the average person living in supreme comfort truly takes for granted. If you don't believe me, try to remember the last thing you complained to someone or within yourself about and then post it on a scale of 1-10, least to most, how petty that complaint really is. If you still don't believe me, watch an episode of nearly any American "Reality Television" show... if you want one in particular MTV's "My Super Sweet 16". If you haven't seen it, really, do yourself a favor and have large quantities of alcohol chilling in the fridge for the aftermath. Oh, and prepare to be sooooo jealous! (That friends, is sarcasm.)

The time before the great experience to which I owe the subculture of Drum Corps. is one which can be described as a defining one. Not in the sense that it made a title for me, or entitles me to anything or that I can call myself special for any reason. I suppose these experiences can only define me as a fortunate soul. It is how I am defined as fortunate that shapes the experience for me.

In the summer of 2001 I was fortunate enough to go to school all summer. This wasn't any old schoolin'. This was 6 weeks of isolation in the central Oregon desert, with a group of people I had never met until the day I embarked upon the journey to field school. Our mission involved studying the cultural remains of people who lived in harmony with the natural environment, at least much more so than the majority of us can even come close to claiming, for many thousands of years. We were to excavate known sites in a respectful and scientific way. If we happened upon ancient human remains (which we did) we were to stop, notify the Confederated Tribes of the Klamath (which we did), wait for their elders, their prayers and their blessings and then continue with our dig (which we did).

It wasn't digging up 11 or 12,000 years of geologic and cultural history. It wasn't seeing or touching the artifacts or smelling the dirt in which they had been encapsulated, sealed off for thousands of years from the living and breathing spaces beyond the lonely layers of volcanic ash and tuff. It was the isolation of being in such a harsh and unforgiving environment. A place so vast that at night from the cliffs on the edge of our camp, we could see for more than 100 miles. It makes you feel so small when there are no lights to be seen. None that aren't huge balls of gas, millions of miles away.

On the 4th of July there was an electrical storm over the desert. It was hot that day, 112 degrees in the shade, and we had worked hard with the prospect of beer and a fireworks show in Christmas Valley, about 50 miles away. Well after dinner... there had been too many beers to make it to the fireworks show. I decided to hike up my cliff. To the soundtrack of nighthawks diving and swooping at insects in the warm night air, I watched the fireworks show in Christmas Valley. Well above the dizzying heights of the fireworks I witnessed something I doubt I'll ever see again. This was what made me realize how insignificant one human is. It was lightning streaking the sky, just like you might see in a National Geographic magazine. It wasn't just the lightning that was spectacular though. It was the glow of the stars over the vast desert that hadn't yet been blanketed by the distant thunderheads, and it was the fireworks bursting, dwarfed and humbled beneath the nauseating reality of lightning.

How Truly Small Indeed.

So, as I was saying...

It wasn't that we were enveloped in the vastness and isolation of the desert, or the breadth and mystery of human prehistory. No, it wasn't just living in a tent for six weeks or systematically wandering around the desert for miles just looking at the ground for signs of prehistoric (or historic) occupation. It was the combination. It was the elixir created by hard work, rough conditions, deep curiosity and respect for the historic people and the land placed before me. It was the time spent alone beneath the wise boughs of massive ponderosa pines (aptly or coincidentally named for ponderousness) or on the cliff above the desert, wooing the nighthawks and bats or whomever was listening, with the guttural organic vibrations of my didgeridoo. It was traveling by foot through arid hills crowned with ancient juniper trees and blooming sage brush, managed by coyotes and jack rabbits and rattle snakes and lizards. It was knapping obsidian projectile points in the same way, with the same materials as those who roamed that very rugged land no less than 10,000 years before me. It's timelessness nearly unfathomable and it's memory always humbling, I came home a different person. I am fortunate to have experienced the truth and purity of being that accompanies natural isolation and moves a human toward a more natural and instinctual state of mind. I am fortunate to have learned an even deeper respect than I once had for the earth that sustains and nurtures our human race, whether or not the majority of us choose to recognize or praise her for it. I am fortunate to have gained a deeper understanding of a place that, because of it's isolation and harshness, most people of comfort tend to ignore and avoid. I am fortunate to have learned a new kind of love.

When we speak of regrets we are usually speaking of things we have done or said intentionally and thoughtfully at a time of action or response, which we later wish we could reapply ourselves to in order to have better handled the given situation. I suppose then that in the end when our actions or words come around to kick us in the teeth and fully embed our own stinky foot in our own dirty mouth, we realize how we may have been fully in the wrong while at the time feeling completely and unapologetically correct in what it was that we said or did.

Here's an example... and it really may apply to my regret or my justice in the future more than now. So I apologize to you and myself in advance. It is about heaven and hell. And so be it. I'm really not sure about either, and therefore can only go upon what I do know. That is itself another slippery slope, knowledge. What do we REALLY know? I don't know for sure that there is or is not a heaven or hell. But the fact that sooooo many people on this earth act solely by an idea of what is to become of them in the preconceived event that they are "judged" after they have lived, at the "pearly gates", that they miss out on all the great opportunities in life that they could have experienced had "THE MAN" not kept them down under the enculturated ideas of religion- is purely fear based and disrespectful to the human experience of which it is a conscience governing part. That is to say- heaven and hell are constructs of the human mind through the intrinsic and unconscious nature of humanity to fear what is unexplainable. This also implies that those of you who do believe in heaven and hell, for better or worse, therefore indeed believe in reincarnation- afterlife- the thing you experience after you die and your soul leaves your earthly body and this particular plane of existence. However, to flip the coin, these constructs are also valuable and integral parts of that same human experience and are owed respect and gratitude.

This is neither here nor there, because if that time of judgment occurs and my homie St. Peter asks "What the hell were you thinking? Didn't you know you might regret that decision, don't you know about hell?", I can honestly say, "Uncle Pete, I am a pure soul. I used the information given, was aware of wolves in sheep's clothing of all forms presented to me including all the ones in religion. The last thing I would want to do is REGRET anything I did. With the understanding that sins are forgiven, wouldn't it be logical for a mortal to attempt to make Heaven on Earth, with the best of intentions, knowing that we really DON'T know. Why would I live and act with good intentions my whole mortal life knowing that some of those intentions, regardless of my personal beliefs would likely land me in front of a little red guy with horns surrounded by fire and brimstone, three headed dogs and The Backstreet Boys? Because God loves me? That should be a sin in itself! Holding back on life, streaming consciousness and spontaneous but thoughtful action under the passive/aggressive shadows of fear that have been provided by the purely human constructs of religion? For all I knew, God had planned for me to be this way and to act how I act and to question what I question. If IT wanted me not to be like this, IT would have fashioned me as a sea slug or a banana or some mangy little kid's pet rock. Hey, thats a nice set of wings ya got there! I am a buh-nana!"

I can't help but believe that we are here for no other reason than to love and learn, with compassion and understanding... and to think for ourselves. It is when we become complacent in, and stop questioning those things that we begin to lose our grasp on humanity and our truly conscious freedom as living, breathing and independently thinking creatures.

I'm not trying to disrespect religion or belief systems... so don't go bitchin' at me because I'm giving you a different and potentially "blasphemous" perspective. I am however trying to think outside the box a little bit. That is my whole point. Why should we just believe what we have been taught, what's been thrown and spat at us
since we were small children. In the words of a curbside and comedy club prophet of our times, Chris Rock, "THAT AIN'T RIGHT!!!!". To just bend over and take it because, "That's just the way it is , son", would be a terrible injustice to the whole idea of freedom and individuality. If God loves us all and moves us all, then IT knows whether or not IT wants us to be good people by virtue of IT's constant dissatisfied tinkering with the peace and comfort in our lives. I could potentially go on and on... but I'd rather not and I'm sure you'd rather I not, and I'd rather you not rather I not... Unless you rather?

So you see...

This is part of my journey of re-realization. If you've spent time with kids you then know the beauty of innocence, the intrigue of wonder and the power of fear. This is typically how Westerners (Americans specifically) are raised. (Forgive my blanket statement). As children we are nurtured through innocent wonder and into fear and thus experience loss of innocence and inquisitiveness by the installation of that same fear. Example: "Stop it or your eyes are going to stay that way!" , "Keep doin' that and you'll go blind!", or anything associated with " because Santa Claus is comin' to town". This again- fibers woven into the fabric of complacency, conformity and homogeneity, and essentially manifests the near loss of one's truly curious self identity as it relates to the world around. This is quite a bit more evident in the Japanese culture, only without as much fear instilled into young children. That is just a personal observation of the freedoms allowed to Japanese youngsters at nearly all times in comparison to the disciplined guilt that is ingrained into the youth of the Judeo-Christian, Protestant work ethic... these same free souls on both sides are later morphed into robots by schooling and extra curricular machines. Few will escape the mold.

I suppose I have ventured away from my original point a bit, but it all applies to the broader spectrum of thinking. That one person can be so intensely and blindly programmed within their lives by the very things that are culturally and socially designed to protect them from the destructive forces of the pervading world and themselves, by their parents and their peers, their cultural values and the educational system into which they have been led with the best of intentions- is not often questioned or recognized as the force by which homogeneous culture is bred through the individual.

I must ask then; How does one escape the psychological, emotional and intellectual boundaries both positively and negatively implanted by the social nurturing devices of mother culture? How can one person grow beyond the parameters of understanding one's own mind, if there is no process embedded within to endure growth beyond the normalcy, complacency and stagnant nature of the potential majority of beings within native culture? Based on observation and deep thoughts (by Jack Handey) on this subject, I must propose that it seems to be at the most random, the most incomprehensible, the most difficult of times in a person's life that change is fostered. It is the moments which lack clarity and drown energy that in turn create energy and force clarity. It is the balance between old and new, what is seemingly "for sure" and what forces us to question what is "for sure". This is the space between routine comfort, typical situations, got-the-world-by-the-balls-ism and personal growth.maybe if i write... it will save me.

We are all a part of this greater thing, a greater consciousness. With this in mind, think of the possibilities that we as humans are completely oblivious of and complacent to. What are we missing? Think of the capacity of the human mind as an untapped resource, like tha oayl up in that thur Alaskey. We are only using small parts of our brains and even smaller parts of our energetic connectivity. Is it not fantastic what we can do without really thinking about it? I mean really! Look at what we do and have done, what we have created and destroyed... what we do to each other and what we will or won't do for one another. This is all performed in a very robotic, very practiced and routine way. We function as if what we do as an occupation defines who we are, and how we fit into the greater scheme of things. In some ways that may be true, but how is waking up and going to work, coming home and absorbing your daily dose of distraction, going to bed, waking up and doing it again the next day beneficial to the overall consciousness and spiritual evolution of greater humanity? Don't you care what happens to humans in the future? Sure you do! Why do we rut ourselves into such dehumanizing and robotic lifestyles without caring about or questioning it? It is unnatural. We are subservient participants, blindly engulfed in a sad phenomenon- the devolution of the human spirit.

There is so much capacity for love and compassion within the human spirit. There is such power within all of us as individuals. There is so much untapped energy that if we as a species were to heighten our awareness of it, be willing to hone it and nurture it and collectively aim it toward peace and unity, toward education and opportunity, toward food and shelter for ALL and finally toward love- we can reverse the effects of devolution and begin again on our righteous path to higher human consciousness and REAL HUMANITY. We all have to want it though. We all have to recognize that the path we are currently choosing on this planet is misleading and destined for failure. We have to reeducate ourselves in what it is to be powerful without money and guns, to be compassionate and generous without the promise of a tax write off, to be loving and concerned for the well being one another without allowing religion or nationality or property or resources or entitlement to continue to divide us.






Until we are able to humble ourselves beyond our egos, recognize our social limitations as humans, embrace all people and our untapped collective capacities for positive energy, compassion and love- We will not know peace and we will not know truth.


To bring this thing back around, back down to Earth...

How do we begin to act upon something that is so much larger than ourselves? How can I make a difference in this short period of time I'm allowed on this planet and on this plane? How does all this stuff apply to what I have written and asked? Further, how does it all relate to these ideas of old and new self?

A very wise man named Ghandi said many profound things in his short time on Earth, and one of the sentiments he offered that resonates with me on the simplest level- "Be the change you want to see in the world." And so it starts with me. It starts with you.

In the last several years I have stopped dreaming both literally and figuratively, stopped aspiring to go beyond my comfortable capacity as Christopher Hudock: Grandson, Son, Brother, Brotha, Nephew, Cousin, Barista, Teacher, Artist, Musician, Athlete. Surely there is always more to a person than that which they would ramble off on a resume or dating website in hopes that they are given a new purpose or person, a new reason to occupy their time. That I will not argue. For me though, these acts of dreaming and redefinition have taken the lame sidecar to the small stuff that resides within the darkness of my own being, driving it's big cool Hot Wheels. MY BIG COOL HOT WHEELS! It is the stuff that hasn't seen the sunshine since I last locked it away in my internal dungeon with all of its subconscious, selfconscious friends. Insecurity, Guilt, Egotism, Anger, Passivity, Self Doubt, Pride, Guile, Apathy and Ambivalence all live in that dungeon. All things considered it is quite a nice dungeon. Push button all wheel drive, rad set of cup holders, great stereo system and central heating... but it is still a dungeon that can be cold and dark and unforgiving. Sometimes it seems that hiding in the corner of that dungeon trying not to draw attention to themselves, trying not to become somebody's Bitch or get shanked with the sharpened end of a toothbrush or beaten with the business end of a turkey drumstick- are love and truth. They hide in there, free to go- but waiting for the others to lay down their shanks and drumsticks, and move aside.

In the light of knowledge and self determination, truth and love can grow up strong and outwardly even stronger.


This is where it is at. Learning how to ask questions of myself again, and giving myself some answers. Through these questions and responses within myself, and with the help of a wonderfully objective friend, we have observed some very small things about me and my interactions with the world around that I would like to work on. I would like to learn to be more objective, take things at face value and not put my own spin on them. I would like to be more compassionate toward others, put myself in their shoes if for nothing else but to understand the perspective of another. For both of these things to happen I need to be more humble and less self absorbed. With all this talk of self realization though, it is more that I should be more internally observant and conscious than outwardly sharing self flattery. I must keep in the mindset of learning. I would like to learn to be more precise with words. I would like to say what I mean and mean what I say. I would like to learn to say more with less. (Not a very good start yet, I know.) I would like to learn more about subtlety, tact, transparency and directness when dealing with myself and others. I would like to love more fully and more freely, as there was a time when I questioned the existence of love- I'm over that. I want it to be less about me as an individual and more about the greater realm of human interconnection and consciousness.


I may have said too much, and I may have said nothing at all. I hope it makes some sense and I hope it may get you to think about some things you haven't thought about before, or at least in a long time. Maybe, you'll begin a renaissance of your own. Maybe together we can unite for the cause of knowledge, love, truth and compassion. You know, join hands and start a love train... love train. It has to start somewhere, it has to start sometime. What better place than here, what better time than now? (Thanks Rage Against the Machine, for that one)

Thanks for reading.

Nothin' but love.

Train Safety and the Trash Nazis

The Japanese are a very reserved people in general. It is normal to go about everything quite conservatively here. With the exception of short shorts and short skirts worn by the very fashion conscious young women and school girls, everyone seems quite sheepishly conservative here. It is not only a cultural construct of thousands of years of having to respect each other's space on this very small and very populated island, but it is also a government mandated kind of thing. It seems as though there is a very pervasive sentiment of safety and collective respect based in the complete lack of individuality throughout most aspects of Japanese culture.

Heres a harmless example. The train systems here are quite elaborate and heavily relied on for transportation to and from work (favorite collective pastime of the Japanese). It is interesting to ride the trains during busy hours. As rumored, there are uniformed officers at the busiest train stations who are present for the specific purpose of squeezing and prodding as many passengers on board the train as possible. It reminds me of a cattle round up, with less hollerin' and fewer men in tight pants, assless chappes and cowboy hats. But despite the supremely close quarters, the inevitable nearness of miscellaneous body parts associated with another living, breathing, perspiring body... the only body parts that rarely make contact are eyes.

This for me is an exercise in cross cultural awareness. For I, I am a people watcher. It's what I do when there are people around. I try not to be persistent or creepy about it, but it's hard for me to actually NOT look at other people. There aren't any negative judgments swirling around in my head. It's not like I'm sitting there going, "what a lame haircut, her roots are totally still showing" or "I bet that Gucci is a fake" or "Jeeeee-sus! Look at that lady's bitchin' moustache"... No, usually there isn't much stirring around in my dome except some sort of music or the occasional envious admiration of sombody's rad anime hair or perhaps, perhaps just a statement of objective truth- "That old lady is tiny" or "Nobody is talking... at.. all."

That's where it is. Nobody talks to one another, whether or not the train is completely full... in fact, the more populated the train car is the less likely it is that you will hear anyone speak to another. This is fascinating to someone who comes from a place where even a full train car still has elbow room and where there is at least some eye contact and usually some sort of verbal communication between passengers, whether or not they know one another. It's just not that way here. People just sit there, silently, sometimes for hours. Usually heads are down and eyes averted from any sort of interpersonal ocular connection. People here work very hard, very long hours, and it's common to see people in business suits sleeping on their commute to or from work... if not that- and they're lucky enough to have snagged an actual seat... they work on their laptop or perhaps read the news paper.

The act or reading the newspaper on the train is a masterful art in and of itself. It gets folded into something resembling a perfectly folded news paper, all compact and efficient. Being that the language is written in stacked letter columns from top to bottom it is easy to nearly roll the paper into a sort of burrito looking thing and therefore- keep it in your own space, thus not to disturb anyone else's space. The really interesting stuff comes into play right here.

On all trains, there are posted instructions detailing "How to sit on the train". This as I understand is for everyone's collective comfort and the spacial efficiency factor. I'm cool with it, it makes for a very fair and efficient- but still uncomfortable train ride. The train's many announcements though are what kind of creep me out in terms of the robotic and sheeplike nature of the general collective here.

The ones in English usually precede the ones in Japanese. They tend to be friendly. Short. Sweet. To the point. Something like, " The train is now approaching Kamakura Station. Doors will open to the left." It's very direct and pretty unassuming. The Japanese announcement is seriously long potentially because of it's very motherly quality. The little mousy voice comes over the speaker and says something like (in Japanese of course) "The train is now approaching Kamakura Station. The doors will open to the left. Do please be careful when exiting the train as there is a gap that could easily catch a foot. Please hold onto small children because they could be trampled by a mob of suits or fall into the gap between the train and the platform and harm might be done to them. Be sure to hurry safely to your connecting railways, it would be a shame if you were late to work. If you stay at work late, you might as well sleep there because we stop running the trains at 12:30 AM and you'll be much a more productive member of the group if you wake up in your cubicle at your desk, refreshed for another day of work. We hope that your workday is long, productive and full of good work. Oh, and be sure to drink your Ovaltine."

Sure, I'm exadurating and I really mean no disrespect. It is important in a collective society for each of it's individuals to remain respectful of rules and the group identity. To what extent is this dehumanizing though? Where is the line between being respectful of others and being a robot controlled solely by learned behavior sanctioned by your government and the idea of collectivism?

Here is something a little more harmful. It occurs once a day, five days a week. Trash.

In Japan there is a very sophisticated and efficient system of disposing household articles of every variety from paper products to plastic bags, bottles to fabrics. There is a very specific piece of documentation on how to achieve the collective happiness that is #Garbage Disposal and Recycling".

I'm going to take this straight from the document published by the City of Kamakura, so there is no bullshit.

The cover of this pamphlet has some very happy but square looking duck-like bird things on it... to make it friendly and happy. I'm surprised there is no song accompanying the document.

It reads:

-Please observe these garbage disposal and recycling rules.
-Please take out garbage and recyclable items by 8:30 am on collection days (do not take them out early in the morning or at night).
-Each garbage collection site is maintained by people who use the site. Please do not dispose of garbage and recyclable items outside of your neighborhood.

.Since fabrics (clothing and rags) cannot be recycled when wet, they will not be collected on rainy days.

.All other recyclable items and garbage can be taken regardless of weather.

.Paper (cartons, newspapers, magazines, paperboard, etc, and miscellaneous paper) do not need protection from rain, and should not be put in plastic bags.

This pretty much ends the first page. Harmless enough, right? Totally.

The second page is tips on how to reduce your waste. Handy, helpful tips about reducing, reusing and recycling things within your own household. #Start with what you can do! Small initiatives lead to big reductions!"

Page 3 is the locations of disposal facilities.

Pages 4-11 are requirements and exclusions of the recycling and disposal process. These things range from food and beverage cans needing to be cleaned and flattened and placed into the yellow container, plastic bottles being placed in a plastic bag (no lids allowed) and flattened if possible, to yard trimmings being cut into small pieces (personally mulched) and placed into plastic bags... paper and cartons separated into white paper bags or brown paper bags with either cartons or waxed or news print or misc. paper... fabrics... combustibles which include kitchen scraps, leather, shoes, plastics that cannot be recycled, toys and anything not on the list of recyclables.. thats right, they burn it... non-combustibles happen once a month, stuff like: pots and pans, umbrellas, ceramics, small appliances, glassware... Hazardous waste happens once a month: light bulbs, motor oil paint, fluorescent lights... You get the idea.

So, at first glance this very specific and thorough system of recycling and trash disposal seems pretty cool to me. It's like people want to make life easier for everyone and do good things for the environment. It's not like in the states where there are just huge plastic containers of un-separated trash sitting next to yard debris and a small crate of glass and aluminum. Oh no... each morning there is a very neatly organized pile of items. Here everyone is involved with your trash. Your neighborhood has a designated netted area where each household neatly places their refuse on it's given day. "Wow!" I thought to myself as I first learned of this collective caring for the environment, "it's not that hard to do within the house, and everything that can be recycled actually is!".

Everybody recycles everything possible here... they like new stuff though so you can't sell anything used and it usually gets thrown away or recycled on the curb. I'm talking BRAND NEW stuff. So I ponder the possibility that one could harvest new stuff from the curb and use it for themselves, saving the bloated expenditure of brand new - brand new stuff. Sounds logical, right? Oh wait.

It is while trying to learn the ins and outs of the trash system here that I learned some fascinating cultural information. I haven't yet experienced the wrath of the Trash Nazi down the street, and I truly hope that I don't. That is exactly what they want. They want you to be afraid of making mistakes and will hold you accountable if you're not within their little box of collective identity and conformism.

I found out that most people here don't really give a flying ffffffffffffish about reducing, reusing, recycling or saving the environment (not unlike most of America). They just fear what will happen to them if they throw glass away in the combustibles, or leave trash out on yard debris collection day by mistake, or incorrectly collate papers and cartons into white and brown paper bags. (Unlike Amuuurica)

What happens is... The neighborhood Trash Nazi (I'm not sure how the Trash Fascist is determined, possibly self manifest, perhaps neighborhood delegated) will go from house to house with your mistake literally in hand, knocking on doors and questioning ownership until he or she finds the culprit. Once this occurs, and a stern but passive aggressive talking to is dished out, your name has been tarnished and black listed in the neighborhood. Strike two means you are disgracing the neighborhood system and I believe you have to pay a fine to the garbage company and apologize to everyone in the neighborhood for dishonoring the trash manifesto. Your disposal practices will forever be scrutinized and I think you have to report to the Trash Nazi with every item you wish to throw away or recycle until you can prove that you are correctly collating your paper and cutting all of your yard debris into fine bits with children's safety scissors so it neatly fits into a plastic bag.

The original concept is amazing to me. If with the intention sustainability and efficiency, reduction, reuse and recycling, this system exists to truly make a difference in the impact on the environment and also to make it an easier job for the sanitation workers... that is quite Utopian if you ask me. That people would actively make such a change in lifestyle (a pretty easy one as far as lifestyle changes go- in regards to consumption and disposal efficiency) simply to make the place in which they choose to reside a cleaner, healthier and more environmentally friendly one would really speak to the progress of the environmentalist movement. But that's not what it's really about here. It's about conforming to whatever the corporation, the government and the Trash Nazis tell you to do. It's about full cooperation, without room for error. It's about guilt. And they're not even Catholic here!

It's pure collectivist trash-ism with no real impact-conscious intention behind it. Pure fear based conformity, I think the people here have a great respect for fear. Fear and fashion. The fashion thing I'll save for another blog... oh man it will be good. It's like middle school meets Hollywood meets 'Shinjuku Barbie and Anime Ken' all the time.

To conclude my ranting... I know this probably reads like I'm being overly critical, like I'm kind of being an asshole perhaps, maybe like I'm missing the point of coming here and interacting with these wonderfully refined and respectful people. I'm not.

The end result of all this train safety and trash fascism is a very clean and safe environment where it is perfectly normal to see reasonably young kids and old ladies traveling alone by train late at night or walking through dark alleys without fear. You can drop your wallet here and have it returned to you with all the money still in it. You can ask anyone a question and they are typically genuinely interested that you are lead to the services you need. Who doesn't want that? And when and where in America would you get your wallet back with money still in it, or see young kids or even old ladies walking through dark alleys late at night. It is even very easy and safe to ride bikes on the highway here... the drivers respect the various modes of transportation and the cyclists respect the rules of the road. Everyone is very conscious of how their actions will affect others, and that is kind of refreshing.

I would like to reassure you that I mean no disrespect and truly am enjoying this experience for all that it is. It is one of learning and curiosity... often in that order. I learn something and it leads to curiosity about why and whether things are truly as they seem on the surface. It is really what this journey is all about and I'm realizing that it is what life is all about. As soon as you choose to stop asking "what the?", as soon as you become comfortable and complacent, as soon as you begin to take experiences for granted... you become idle and you slow your growth as a spirit. I was feeling a little of that before I decided to ditch the states for a while, and it is really becoming evident that while I miss home... I wouldn't be growing nearly as rapidly or openly at home.

Like I said before... this is a dumping ground for some thoughts and experiences. I just hope you enjoy reading it, and I hope my stream of thoughts doesn't bore you or piss you off. Know that while I may write in a slightly cynical or sarcastic voice, while I may obdurate some things at times and be overly critical at others... it is supposed to be fun and interesting for you, and kind of liberating for me. I hope you enjoy and comment or ask me questions if you're curious.

Oh yeah. Its picture time.

Peace, Love and Seaweed Sammiches,

Chris

Grace in your face! Shhh. Incognito.

So I guess I'll start this post with a bit of an apology.

I'm sorry I haven't written more about more. Perhaps it is a good thing though, to do less. To talk less, to take less, to eat and drink less. I have been doing exactly that- less. Partially out of choice, partially by necessity and a little bit by the sheer neglegence of any notion that I have any responsibility whatsoever right now.

The truth is that there are a number of factors determining the notable worth of my experiences. Whether or not they (my experiences) are worth anything to me is up to me, whether or not they are worth something to anyone else is also up to me. Whether or not I have experiences worth sharing at all... well thats kind of up to me.

You see. I'm kind of being held captive. Its sort of like house arrest. I shall explain.

Emily is somewhat of an indentured servant, if you will, for a young married couple here in Kamakurakokomae. In return for Em's gardening services she recieves tenance in a small appartment on the third floor of their house. Im not sure that there is any set agreement on how much she actually does in terms of gardening... but she does what they ask when she can make the time and in return they allow her to stay.

It seems as though she has done quite a lot of work for them. The flower beds are clean, the gutters and the deck and stairways are newly pressurewashed. The hillside has been cleared of brush, trees trimmed and earth removed from concrete drainage ditches on the steep mountain side in preparation for a walkway to be built.

She had mentioned to the owners that she would be having visitors at various times to which they humbly agreed that she not worry about it. She may have forgotten to mention that her friend (me) might be staying with her for oh...say.... a month and a half. To which they might have frowned upon, maybe not... but she doesn't want to find out. This leaves me in the position of both a prisoner and a stowaway freeloader (which isn't nearly as presigious as say- a hobo), and it puts her in the position of harboring said stowaway squatter. The landlords are essentially... La Migra of Koshigoe.

I'm ok with this situation for a few reasons. Firstly, I have helped out in numerous seen and unseen ways. Im like a gardening ninja. Secondly, I paid rent to someone about 8 months ago, for the purpose of staying with her wherever she might be, assuming that it would be passed on to whomever it was that owned wherever we were staying. Thirdly... well because of that last one I can't really afford to be anywhere else until we get to India.

Naturally, Em is a busy woman. It should go without saying that vacating a country in which you've lived for almost 3 years, without the intention of returning, leaves quite alot of loose ends to be tied up. But I said it anyway. She's out taking care of business and solving problems and tying ends- no problem. I don't need to be entertained. I don't even need a tour guide. I'm perfectly capable of getting around here by myself, which I proved the other day as I shall explain later, when I have pictures to share (another long story).

The thing is... unless I leave super early in the morning, stay out all day and come back late at night- I have to be here unseen and unheard for the duration of the day and into the night. It is pretty damn easy to kill a whole day in Japan without even looking at the time... but doing that also tends to kill most of the money in the wallet, and the last three days have been cold and raining... not too good for taking photographs or sitting on the beach with a book. Therefore I have been Incognito- The Ninja Tenant for several days.

Remaining completely incognito in somonelses house leads to adventures reminiscient of our high school days when we would wait for the parental units to turn in, do a sound check, do a light check, then go out to the cars to smuggle in the booze! After the long and blurry night of imbibing whatever we could get our underage hands on- it was then time to smuggle the contraband back out to the cars. (Note* If you've ever tried to carry a box full of empty glass bottles silently up a slippery, rain-soaked hill, while being well over the legal blood/alcohol limit for a rhinoceros... you might recall that it makes about as little noise as said rhinoceros with sponges attached to his feet and wearing jingle bells tip-toeing across a wet church floor covered in marbles while the congregation has bowed their heads in a moment of silence for the unlucky child victims of a terrorist attack at the local Chuck E. Cheese.)
Ya. Like that.

So even peeing in this joint can be an exercise in precise movement. Its like the Matrix meets Minesweeper meets Tai Chi class meets The Last of the Mohicans. I must move about so that the floor doesn't squeak, so that there is no vibration from my feet, so that each step is unheard and unfelt like I were a native warrior stalking the enemy for his scalp and a feather for the coup. I am the Incognito Ninja, the toilet is my enemy. Well not the toilet, but the squeaks and creaks on the way to the toilet. The pitter patter of liquid on liquid as I relieve my discomfort. Its an exercise in fluidity and finesse, like a slow and intensely choreographed dance through the appartment (with no music of course). Even the microwave and the gas powered stove are out of the question. This leaves just me and the rice cooker.

I can hear them moving about below me, talking, humming, working outside. I can hear them crunching on chips and opening beers. Can they hear me? Probably. But I'm having fun being the Incognito Ninja Sloth, unseen and unheard by the evil landlord people of the planet Koshigoe as I operate in complete stealth. Its like being Anne Frank, only Im not being threatened by Nazis or guns or a gas chamber. Ok maybe that was too far. Sorry.

So all I get to do in these long hours is play Ninja while I try to eat and drink and pee. Its pretty easy if I just surround myself with books and my drawing stuff and post cards and such. The computer is nice and distracting, and mostly quiet.

This comes to the other reason I haven't written much. I really want to get some pictures up that I can write about, but I'm having computer issues. Stupid technology. Its just that, the Mac wont seem to read my card reader... mostly because I dont know how to make it do so, and its super old, so Im not so sure it wont eat the thing anyway and destroy the 400 pictures Ive taken in the last couple of weeks. My laptop (queue in the sound from Law & Order "tchum tchum!"), is experiencing the fatigue asociated with being a relic. Unfortunately, I, Dumbass- The Incognito Idiot relied on someone elses claim that they had a universal prong adaptor... My laptop "TCHUM TCHUM!" has the battery life of a single- dollar store "AAA size Premium Extended Life" whilst my laptop "!TCHUM TCHUM!" has requires about as much power as it takes to light up Tokyu. (Note* Not to be mistaken for Tokyo, the city. Tokyu is a department store in Kamakura. 1st floor- Premade food, deli, confectionery, miscellaneous vendors selling miscellaneous items of consumption. 2nd floor- "Fresh" grocery items, fish and meats, breads and grains and tofus and rice and noodles, produce (some of which are extraordinarily large and phallic), beer and liquor and sake... and candy and gum. 3rd floor- clothing for men and women. 4th floor- cosmetics, sunglasses and designer clothing for women and a restraunt and bar. 5th floor- Housewares. 6th floor- more housewares and miscellaneous hardware and outdoor (hoses and work gloves and things). 7th floor- Brothel. Ok Im kidding about the brothel... at this store. Point is, I can't use my computer until I can plug it in. And I can't plug it in until I get an adaptor. And I can't get an adaptor until I can leave the house, which is not today.

So there it is.

I'll tell you about my awesome sushi experiences and my trip to see the Big Buddha at Daibutsu as soon as I have some pictures to back up the stories. Until then, I have to pee. Whish me luck. Thats right, like swhish, and phish. Shut up.

Peace and Love,

Chris



P.S.
If you want a post card from somewheres, kick me an email with your address and I'll try to get you one... if you ask real nice and show me them purrty teeth. Word.

Ohayo!!!

Whats happenin y'all?!!!

So. I left P-town at 5:45 AM on the 28th of April and arrived in Tokyo on the 29th at about 7:00 PM. The worst part of the whole journey would have to be the 5 hours I had to kill (and subsequently watch die) in LA's horrible airport. Its not as gross as Vegas, but its not nearly as nice as many of the airports I have seen in the past. A couple bloody marys, breakfast and 25 something bucks later... time to catch Singapore Air flight SQ11 to Narita airport.

What a treat it was to fly Singapore Air. It was an 11.5 hour flight, but considering, it could have been way worse. The flight was completely smooth, not even a hiccup mid flight. The flight attendants were stellar... interstellar even. Moist towels before meals and everything! I was surrounded by screaming and crying children, which had it not been for the efforts of the lovely Singapore Air staff, might have been flushed one by one from the airplane lavatory by any number of cranky travelers, only to have a very cold freefall 33,000 ft into the northern reaches of the Pacific Ocean. The flight path took us north and west, up near the Alaskan panhandle and back down into Tokyo. Small children would likely be a nice snack for a killer whale or a sea lion or something, and needless to say the abominable snow monsters that live in the farthest reaches of the western Alaskan islands would love a tasty, fat little morsel.

Perhaps the best part of that flight was the fact that I had all three seats to myself. I was able to sprawl out beneath the thinly woven airline blanket and catch a few z's. Each seat had it's own little screen so's I could watch muh pic-shus three attuh tayme ifun I done wanna. And every so often I was greeted by a series of angels offering me little snacks and drinks. I do believe I was flying in heaven. Free Tiger beers and little packages of peanuts and pretzels flowed like wine from those crazy aisle-sized carts that were being pushed by women so beautiful it could make God's eyes do a double take.

Now that's what I call the friendly skies!!!!


So after a two hour train ride from the airport and a hike up the hill, we arrived at a huge house on the side of a mountain. Around the corner and up three flights of stairs... Em's appt. It's very cozy here. Three small rooms and a very tiny bathroom. It's very practical here, no frivolously used space. The fridge is slightly larger than the one I use specifically for beer at home, like every college dorm has, and the stove is gas heated with two burners and a little fish broiler. It's perfect for small, perfect for practical. It definitely puts the big houses and big cars that we all have in the states into perspective.

All is well here. Although I hurt myself doing yoga the other day, as soon as the weekend is over and it stops raining, we'll be checking some shrines and other sights out. This week was "golden week", it's like spring break for the Japanese. Apparently its the only time all year that people actually stop working. Hopefully the sun will shine and my body will stop hating me for trying to help it with yoga and we'll be able to go out and do some stuff. I'll try to keep you all posted.

Much Love!