Perfect Days

The days are ticking by at an incredible rate. How is it that it’s been so long (relatively) since I’ve taken the time to write a post?! The swift passing of time, propelled by a fullness of activities aligned with values, thereby creating circumstances within which the doing is itself the point of arrival. It’s very interesting to consider what full days look like now, relative to the ‘busy’ days I used to spend in front of the computer on meetings, talking about who-knows-what for hours and hours. Got me thinking about “active simplification” and “passive complication” of life.

Our small minds (the ego) knows such basic arithmetic—only addition, in fact. There is therefore a vigilance, an awareness, needed to guard against this conditioned belief that it’s through addition/accumulation that we come to wholeness and contentment. We want to continually ‘inhale’ our way to satisfaction. But, left unexamined, there’s a ‘passive complication’ to life’s circumstances that end up pushing against our very search for deeper fulfillment. It takes skillful effort to ‘exhale’, to participate in ‘active simplification’—the creation (or discovery, really) of circumstances grounded in Self-knowledge, contributing to a spaciousness of mind and life.

This was reinforced recently by the beautiful Japanese film, Perfect Days. Watching someone so alive with deep contentment in their everyday, because of the simplicity of circumstances, is truly inspiring. The active choosing of simplicity, despite (and perhaps even in spite) of the pressures of contemporary consumption culture. Amidst simplicity there’s a care, an attention, and intention that can be placed upon those things that truly matter. An uncluttered mind is the gateway to recognition of the beauty in the world, even within difficult, challenging, and unwanted circumstances, of which there are myriad. It’s in ‘passive complication’ that we get so caught up thinking that life’s ‘big’ moments are responsible for durable happiness—the graduation, the promotion, the raise, the retirement—all the while completely missing the freshness of the moment; all the ways the ‘small’ elements of daily life reveal and offer such richness and joy.

Perfect Days, despite some obvious differences in details (i.e., a professional toilet cleaner living in Tokyo [although I do clean my fair share of toilets these days]) is actually a rather clear depiction of the life I’m living here at Mountain Cloud in Santa Fe. Certainly, the life I’m aspiring to lead. Simple aspirations. Simple pleasures. His simple dwelling and bed; trimming his mustache; the enjoyment of taking pictures that no one may see; music on cassettes; sleeping soundly and waking up looking forward to the day ahead. It’s almost obvious, and yet almost too simple to seem profound—what more could there possibly be than to wake with a sense of contentment about the day. That’s not to say it’ll always be pleasant or enjoyable; it’s deeper than that.

To have our attention so effortlessly focused on the meaningful details of daily life; intimately tuned in to the little wonders that surround us. And, of course, what’s wonderful to one may be a nightmare to another. Like the sister, asking in disbelief/disgust, if it’s true that her brother cleans public toilets for a living. However, I would suggest (perhaps even argue) that nobody truly wants the complications they bring into life, regardless of the uniqueness of our values. There’s a universal truth within Perfect Days that resonates deeply: we all just want that deeper contentment with life, but tend to look for it in the wrong places.

It strikes me all the more, going back to the dramatic shift in the ‘tone’ of my current days, relative to the bulk of my career, just how different life can feel when the everyday aspects of life are sufficient and fulfilling in themselves. Not trying to get anywhere in particular, aside from right here. And yet, it’s always in motion. It just so happens that we get to where we need to be by being content with where we are. This certainly rang true for me the other day as I was running in the mountains, thinking about pace and potential placement in an upcoming race. It occurred to me quite strongly that my joy has (almost) nothing to do with the outcome, and everything to do with simply being able to do it, to enjoy the run for itself. Is winning nice? Sure it is, but that, too, will be empty without the appreciation of the little moments on the training runs. It’s that notion that it’s all about the ‘big things’ that misses so much of what makes this whole crazy process of living worthwhile.