Years ago, I saw an ad in a Japanese magazine that depicted a couple enjoying a refreshing, sumptuous lunch on a wooden platform built over a resplendent yet gentle waterfall in the midst of spring. I think it was a sake ad. I salivated over the memory of this magical image, and asked a Japanese friend where I could find something like it.
“That was just an advertisement,” she said, smiling. “There is no place like that.”
Recently, while watching an NHK nature/food/culture documentary (the kind with a tranquil English speaker’s voice and Ryuichi Sakamoto playing contemplative, tender piano), I caught a two-second glimpse of something resembling the ad, and the words “Kibune kawa-something.”
“It EXISTS!!!” I ran to my desk for a pen and paper.
The sake advertisement had depicted a gloriously Photoshopped version of kawadoko, a summertime dining treat made famous in the Kyoto area (and particularly in the mountain village of Kibune). Folks seeking escape from the heat and humidity enjoy kaiseki-ryōri and cold nagashi-sōmen on a deck over a rushing mountain stream.
When deciding whether to leave his secure Wall Street job in order to take a risk on starting Amazon, Jeff Bezos used what he calls “regret minimization framework.” He imagined himself as an 80-year-old reflecting on his life and the choices he’d made. He knew that the old man would regret not taking a leap and seizing the opportunity “to participate in this thing called the internet,” so the choice became suddenly clear.
What would you like to do now in order to avoid feeling regret in later years, or what choices have you already made that you imagine you may regret? For those of you with few regrets, what choices did you make that were the right ones?
My mom’s Zodiac animal is Pig, so I like pigs. She loves them. Whenever I see a pig thingamajig, I always stop and eye it as a possible gift.
Mom is my free art director. She gives a solid thumbs-down to nearly everything I draw, which I find kind of hilarious and occasionally painful. Her feedback is usually a raised eyebrow-frown (sometimes combined with her walking away) or just an “UGGH.” To an extent, I trust her eye since she was an architect and is pretty good at looking for - and distilling something down to - the basics.
I was afraid she’d disapprove of this drawing, but she actually said, “Cute.”
It’s spider season in our neighborhood. This means that even the quickest trip outside (to take out trash, recycling, compost, laundry) results in running into two or three spiderwebs with my face. Going for a walk equals ten more encounters (recently, a strand broke across my eyeballs, and another time, a partial web went into my mouth).
Giant communal spider web at Lake Tawakoni State Park, Texas; looks like my apartment Read more...