गते गते पारगते पारसंगते (gate gate pāragate pārasaṃgate)

[1]

When I decided to start studying Zen seriously at Busshinji (仏心寺, the Sōtō Zen temple where I used to practice in Brazil), I asked the layman working as jikidō (直堂) on a particular Saturday evening sitting: "Hey, I want to study here. What do I need to do?" To which he replied me: "Just come and sit along with us!" Now, that answer did not satisfy me, and I went on with my inquiry: "But, what about the lectures? When do they happen?". He looked at me and laughed. "There is no such a thing!" he replied. "Just come and sit!" Well, I had had previous experiences in a Chinese Rinzai Zen monastery (Zulai temple), and we always had lectures! How come they didn't have any? I was sort of disappointed. 

Saikawa roshi (Busshinji's abbott) does not usually give talks, except during the intensive practice periods (sesshin,  攝心). I remember one time he started lecturing and, at a certain point, he just stopped and said "Oh, I talk too much! Please, forgive me! I am not training you well." That reminded me of the episode I described previously and made me smile. At that very moment, I understood it.
--

We are used to acquire knowledge from other people through lectures. It has been like this throughout our whole life, from elementary school to PhD studies; particularly when it comes to philosophy and religion. Buddhism is no exception. However, when it comes to Zen, things get a little bit different. Buddhism has a lot of concepts, terminologies, theories, and peculiar ways of expressing them. Among these, the following image is one of my favorites:

The bhavacakra: "wheel of becoming".

This is an image commonly found within the Tibetan traditions of Buddhism and also in some Indian temples. It is a very concise way to explain the whole of Buddha's teachings. However, while most people look at the center of the image, Zen points to the upper-left corner of it: the moon. The drawn moon means nothing more than the moon itself: it's reality - as it is - here and now. You may call it Nirvana, enlightenment, God, or whatever you will, if you like to use some fancy terminologies. All the representations within the wheel in the middle of the picture regard things and phenomena that happen within our blind and confused minds, that prevent us from experiencing things as they are (to see the moon); and then, there is Buddha (in upper-right corner) trying to somehow help us do it. All of his practical teachings point us to the importance of the present moment, and this is something that we have to experience by ourselves. Likewise, I can spend hours trying to tell you how my gramma's orange cake is delicious: how it is crunchy outside, but soft and wet inside; sweet, but with some sourness here and there (if you are lucky enough to eat some of the small caramelized orange peel pieces she puts in the dough). However, no matter how much I write about it, you will never be able to fully experience the cake until you eat it. Buddha points to the cake on the table. We just have to go and eat it!

In the Zendō[2], every step is a teaching. Why do we walk around with the hands in that strange position? Why do we sit cross-legged? Why do we bow to the cushion a zillion of times? Why do we turn around clockwise? What about the white line on the zafu? Why do we sit staring at a wall for hours? What about the garments we wear? And the chantings? Every step, every movement and every non-movement is the fundamental teaching. Every single thing. We can only realize that when we let go of all our expectations of what teaching should be like and just take it as it is.

Going beyond our ideas, beyond our concepts and beyond our minds. This is the key point: go beyond, and then, go further. And then, go even further. That's wisdom on it's purest form. That's "enlightenment". An old traditional Buddhist text on wisdom (prajña, sk.), the teachings on the essence of the great perfection of wisdom - more widely known as Heart Sutra (Prajñāpāramitā Hṛdaya sūtra in Sanskrit, or Hannya Shingyo [般若心経] in Japanese) - advocates that wisdom (arising from realizing that all phenomena are just as they are) is the key point to enlightenment (actually, it is enlightment itselt). It ends with the phrases:

 गते गते पारगते पारसंगते बोधि स्वाहा 

(gate gate pāragate pārasaṃgate bodhi svāhā)

meaning: "go, go, go beyond; go thoroughly beyond. Perfect realization!" That is it, simple like that. One does not have to study and recite pages and pages of old texts to realize it.  On this sutra, the late master Rujing[3] says:

"The entire body is a mouth [wind-bell] hanging in empty space,
regardless of the wind from the east, west, south, or north,
joining the whole universe in chiming our prajña.
Ting-ting, ting-ting, ting-ting."[4]

to which Master Dogen adds: "the entire body is prajña. The entire other is prajña. The entire self is prajña. The entire east, west, south and north is prajña."[4] 

That is it. Take it and cross it.

--

Notes and references:

[1] The first patriarch recognized in Zen school after Shakyamuni Buddha was his disciple Mahakashapa. According to tradition, Buddha transmitted him his Dharma when, after a talk, he raised a flower and an eyebrow. Seeing that, Mahakashapa smiled and got great enlightenment. Following that, Buddha said: "I have the treasure of the True Dharma Eye and the wondrous Mind of Nirvana. I transmit the to Mahakashapa." Ref.: Jokin Keizan, "The Record of Transmitting the Light" (Denkouroku, 伝光録). Chapter 2: "Mahakasyapa". Transl: F. D. Cook. Wisdom Publications: Los Angeles, 1996.

[2] A typical western zendō. People sitting and holding their hands in unusual position, and sometimes wearing fancy clothes too! But, really, every detail has a meaning. 

[3] Master Rujing (Jp. Nyōjo, 1162-1228) was a Chinese monk from the Caodong school of Zen. Master Dōgen studied with him in China, and brought his teachings to Japan, founding the Sōtō school.

[4] In: Eihei Dogen, "Treasury of the True Dharma Eye" (Shoubougenzou, 正法眼蔵). Chapter 2: "Manifestation of Great Prajna" (摩訶般若波羅蜜). K. Tanahashi (Ed.) Shambhala: Los Angeles, 2010.

The true meaning of Christmas

Every year, millions of people around the world gather together on the night of December 24th to celebrate Christmas Eve. But what does this date actually mean?

Traditionally, Christmas is a celebration of Jesus's birth, even though the exact date is unknown; so, in order to understand the meaning of Christmas, it is necessary to understand the meaning of Christ. This single thing alone has lead to many wars over the centuries: for Christians, Jesus is God Himself, the Messiah promised in Jewish scriptures; for Jews, he is an enemy of God, drawing people away from Him; for Islam, he is a prophet, messenger of God, Messiah, though he is not God made in flesh, as for Christians. These three ideologies (and derivations of them) have been living together for centuries and conflicting each other, in a dangerous mixture of political and ideological interests.

In the core of Jesus's teachings is the belief that the Kingdom of Heaven can be attained by the cultivation of two main practices*: (i) love God above everything; and (ii) love your neighbor as you love yourself. Within the Buddhist framework, these can be interpreted, respectively, as the practices of selflessness and compassion: 'love God beyond everything' is letting go of your own ego, not succumbing to your desires and not acting selfishly, but thinking on the 'big picture' in the first place; 'love your neighbor as you love yourself' is understanding that we are all human beings alike, and we all have our fears, dreams, desires, flaws and qualities. The combination of these two practices should lead to the development of a higher conscience that would, ultimately, lead to the kingdom of Heaven** (or, as we say in Buddhism, to the state of Nirvana).

So, as a celebration of Jesus's birth, Christmas should be a time to celebrate compassion and selflessness. A time to abandon your ego and go after that person you don't get along with very well and give him/her a big hug, a smile and apologize for something you might have done. It is a time to accept others's actions, respect their choices and their thoughts, even though they might be different from your point of view: let go of these attachments to your ideas of right and wrong. This is also selflessness. Christmas is also a time to spend with your friends and family, even though you don't like your in-laws, or the same foods and gossips of every year. As cliche as it might seem, this is a time to open yourself to giving and receiving love; to spread charity, to listen to people who need to talk out their afflictions, to embrace those who need a little cherish, and to feed those in hunger. This is compassion. This is what Christmas is about, much more than the big table of abundant delicious food and the pile of presents under the old plastic pine tree. So, let's seize this time to deepen our practices and develop these attributes, which should be cultivated throughout the whole year.

A merry (late) Christmas!!! 

Some pics of my first white Xmas here in Japan:

 On Dec 25th, being Santa!! We delivered around 2,000 gifts sent from all over the country for kids and adults of the tsunami-affected state of Iwate.

Preparing Oden (soup) at the Temporary Houses in Iwate.

--

* Of course, there are much more teachings, but the central points are, in my point of view, summarized in these two practices. As simple as it might seem at first sight, we have some deep philosophical problems, beginning with the definitions of God, neighbor and everything. Religious leaders have been arguing over these for millenia...

** There is also several lines of thought on what does Kingdom of Heaven mean, as happens with Nirvana and the Pure Land of Amida Buddha. There are those who envision it as some real place where good souls go after their death; and there are those who see it as a mental state. My vote goes for the second one.  

Our daily bread

Then, this is how you should pray:

"Our Father in heaven, 

hallowed be your name, 

your kingdom come, 

your will be done, 

on earth as it is in heaven. 

Give us today our daily bread. 

And forgive us our debts, 

as we also have forgiven our debtors. 

And lead us not into testing, 

but deliver us from evil." (Jesus)[1]

--

Our daily bread. Jesus did not say "our daily fancy food", "our daily big mac", or "our daily deliciously expensive big steak". He said "bread". Actually, the meaning is much deeper than this [2], but we can have a glimpse of the humbleness required from our prayers, the same humbleness that must be cultivated in our hearts.

Bread may be a simple food for many of us today. But even the simplest of foods have the value of the whole universe. Starting from the wheat seed, planted over an entire field, there are countless people involved in making a wheat flour [3]. It normally takes at least 3 months between planting and harvesting, and the crop must be supervised sometimes. So, yeah, there are lots of guys (and sometimes kids) involved in making that bag of flour that the baker in your favorite bakery used to make the bread you are eating. You can increase the list by including all people responsible to make water reach the bakery, and all of those who cultivated the yeast; and all people involved in the process of making the bag you use to bring you bread to your table. And I have only talked about people so far! In order for the wheat to grow, it was fed a lot of nutrients by the ground. It received energy from the Sun, and water from the rains. Also, all the effort of the earthworms and all of the small little living beings that little by little chew the hard ground and transform it into a nutrient rich food for the wheat plantation.

There is the effort of the whole Universe in one single slice of bread. What have we been doing to deserve it? 

In Japanese Zen Buddhist temples, we normally recite a verse before meals. It is called "Five Reflections" (Gokan no ge, 五観の偈) [4] :

"First, we reflect upon the effort that brought us this food, and consider how it comes to us;

Second, we reflect on our virtue and practice and whether we are worthy of this offering;

Third, we consider greed to be the obstacle to freedom of mind;

Fourth, we regard this food as medicine to sustain our life;

Fifth, for the sake of attaining the truth, we now receive this food."

In Japanese:

　一には功の多少を計（はか）り彼（か）の来処（らいしょ）を量（はか）る。

　二には己が徳行（とくぎょう）の全欠を忖（はか）つて供（く）に応（おう）ず。

　三には心を防ぎ過（とが）を離るることは貪等（とんとう）を宗（しゅう）とす。

　四には正に良薬を事とすることは形枯（ぎょうこ）を療（りょう）ぜんが為なり。

　五には成道（じょうどう）の為の故に今此（いまこ）の食（じき）を受く。

The whole universe is contained in your simple cookie. And this very cookie will then be part of your body. Every food is precious: think about it. In Buddha time, the monks collected alms: they could only get as much food as would fit in their bowls. I am pretty much sure not all of the foods they were given were good, but Buddha instructed them to receive all of them equally, eat them equally, and be equally grateful for every little thing that was offered. Without judging or discrimination, they were all completely satisfied - even with a single grain of rice.

--

Notes:

[1] Gospel of Matthew, chapter 6. As from the New International Version (NIV) translation.

[2] "Daily bread" means much more than simply the bread itself. It means provision of all that the earth can give us, that we really need to live: air, water, food, job, etc. Some go further into discussing this actually includes the "spiritual food" (i.e. blessings), but I don't buy that. The line 'Your kingdom come' should account for all of this already. 

[3] This page has a nice explanation.

[4] Composed by the chinese monk Dàoxuan [Dousen, in Japanese] (596 - 667 C.E.). You can find it in this page, along with all recitations made in the daily morning service.

Walking mountains

"Before I had studied Zen for thirty years, I saw mountains as mountains, and waters as waters. When I arrived at a more intimate knowledge, I came to the point where I saw that mountains are not mountains, and waters are not waters. But now that I have got its very substance I am at rest. For it's just that I see mountains once again as mountains, and waters once again as waters." (Qingyuan Xingsi)[1]

--

Earlier this year, I went to Mount Fuji. Mt. Fuji, or Fuji-san (富士山) - as they call it here in Japan, is possibly the most famous Japanese symbol. It is a 3776 meters high volcano in the border between Shizuoka and Yamanashi prefectures. Every year its ways are opened for whoever wants to climb it - and there are lots of people that do want to. A popular saying here in Japan suggests that anybody would be a fool not to climb Fuji-san once - and a fool to do it twice.

Fuji-san has 10 stations throughout the climbways, and we started climbing from the 5th. We arrived at 10 in the night, and planned to reach the top at 4:30, which was a very close estimate. When we approach Fuji-san by night, we have no idea of what is waiting for us, and this is very good - otherwise we wouldn't be motivated enough to go up. It was all a deep darkness, except for the flashlights of the climbers. In fact, we only found the way by following the huge line of small lights, that resembled a bunch of fireflies. (Actually, I remembered some scenes from my favorite Japanese anime, in which endless lines of people go walking slowly through a desert valley to a big hole where they jump to the world of Death. [2])

There is no noise up in Fuji-san. No animal sounds, no rivers, no trees: nothing. There is only the distant station lights, and one would often hear the noise of other climbers dragging their way up the rocky ways. Even though everyone go up in groups, the feeling of loneliness in unavoidable. In the mountains, in the silence and darkness of the night, the echoes of one's mind become considerably loud.

By the start of the journey, the weather was quite fine: it was a typical summer day when we left Tokyo - hot and humid 35+ degrees -, and Fuji-san was at a delightful 23 ºC that night. However, as we went up and deeper into the night, the temperature fell way below 10 ºC, and a persistent rain washed us all somewhere in the middle of the way. At some point between the 8th and 9th stations, already 3100 meters up, I just found myself alone, sitting on a rock, all wet and shivering. Looking up, the warm lights of station 9; looking down, a big line of small flashlights. Apart from that, it was all a vast darkness with a bunch of stars shining above my head and some blurred city lights in a distant horizon, under the clouds.

I don't know how much time I spent there gazing at the stars and looking into the darkness, but that very same time I understood why great sages would go to the mountains to meditate and pray. Buddha went into the mountains when he left his palace to pursue truth; Jesus would refuge into mountains to talk to God [3], and so did Moses [4] back in the Old Testament. In fact, the first ascent of Fuji-san is believed to have been performed by a monk, in 663 d.C.

In the mountains, one is totally helpless. If you slip, take one single miscalculated step, you die. If you do not use all of your concentration and be not fully present and fully attentive at every step, this might mean the end of the line - specially at night. In some parts of the route we had to literally climb, using both feet and hands. One inattentive movement, and one's life and everyone else's is endangered. So, attention is something very important.

I cannot precisely explain why, but there is a kind of sacred feeling in Fuji-san: everyone would speak in a low voice and have mindful attitudes when climbing. I would say that it is almost like a religious experience - you see life and death right in front of your nose, and you are the only responsible for holding the thin line that separates them both.

Master Dogen [5] dedicated a whole text on mountains and water, named Mountains and Waters Sutra (山水経) [6]. In it, Dogen talks about the various different faces of mountains and waters. One of his main instruction is: examine in detail the characteristics of the mountains's walking. No, I did not make a typo. He actually instructs us to examine the mountains's walking.

How can we see the mountains's walking? Mountains and waters were common sights for monks at that time, so talking about mountains and waters was a very efficient way of teaching them the reality of our world. For instance, in this text Dogen approaches the concept of erosion and the water cycle - way ahead in time. The mountains do walk: they are slowly decomposed by wind and its particles reach everywhere, and become new mountains. That is how a rock can give birth to a baby rock!

As master Qingyuan mentioned, when we start studying Zen (not only Zen, but Nature itself: Chemistry, Biology, Physics etc.), we reach a point were things are not what they were before. I remember clearly when I started studying Chemistry, I would see a glass of milk with sugar not as a glass of milk with sugar, but rather as a milky solution of glucose. I am pretty much sure botanists don't see flowers the same way as we do, nor do physicists gaze at stars with the same naivety as mere human beings do. But, then again, when you drink that glass of milk and sugar, it is nothing but milk and sugar. Just as it is.

When we were at Fujisan, shivering and sleepy cursing our stupid idea of climbing that bunch of rocks, my friend told me: "Yeah, I used to think Fujisan was beautiful when I saw its pictures! But now I am pretty much sure I won't ever think it's beautiful again!"

When we experience things directly, all our concepts go to the ground. There is no beauty, no grandiosity, nothing good in Fujisan when we are there. There is only cold, back-ache, a huge pain in the legs and feet, and regret. Nowadays, as I talk about Fujisan, I see it as I did before: a huge, beautiful, imposing mountain - but I know how it is in reality. That's why I admire it much more than before.

I'll end with the closing paragraphs of Dogen's text:

  "There are mountains hidden in treasures. There are mountains hidden in swamps. There are mountains hidden in the sky. There are mountains hidden in mountains. There are mountains hidden in hiddenness. This is how we study.
  An ancient Buddha said, "Mountains are mountains, waters are waters." These words do not mean mountains are mountains; they mean mountains are mountains.
  In this way, investigate mountains thoroughly. When you investigate mountains thoroughly, this becomes the endeavor within the mountains.
Such mountains and waters of themselves become wise persons and sages."

The sunrise at Fujisan! In Japanese, 御来光 (goraiko): "honorable come of light".
It is so cold there, that all you want to do is stand still under the Sun, feeling his warm embrace
before going all the way down.

--
Notes and References:
[1] Qingyuan [青原, Jp. Seigen] (660-740) was a Chinese monk, one of the Dharma successors of Huineng and, thus, the 7th patriarch in Zen lineage from Bodhidharma (and 34th from Shakyamuni Buddha). From his lineage, three of the major five Zen schools aroused: Caodong (曹洞, jp: Soto), Yunmen (雲門, jp: Unmon) and Fayan (法眼, jp: Hougen). From: Shi Daoyuan, "Transmission of the Lamp", ca. 1004 d.C. In: Watts, A. The Way of Zen. Vintage: New York, 1989. p.126.

[2] In Saint Seiya, the limbus is described as a place where dead souls wander until they find these abysses where they fall to the eternal death. See this video for an excerpt.


[3] For instance, in gospel of Luke, Ch. 22, verse 39, Jesus is depicted in the Mt. of Olives spending a night in prayers before his capture and crucifixion.


[4] According to the Book of Exodus (chapter 24), God told Moses to go up Mt. Sinai so as to give him some new instructions He had prepared to lead His people (the Ten Commandments).


[5] Eihei Dogen (永平道元) (1200-1253) was a Japanese monk, the first monk of the Caodong (Soto, in Japanese) Zen school to bring its teachings to Japan. He is the 24th patriarch on the lineage of Bodhidharma (and 51st since Shakyamuni Buddha). Dogen is regarded as one of the most renowned Japanese philosophers, and wrote an extensive treaty on Buddhism called "Treasury of the True Dharma Eye" (正法眼蔵, Shobogenzo), a huge compilation of 95 chapters expressing the fundamentals of Buddhism through the interpretation of Caodong school.   


[6] Written in 1240 and presented to a bunch of monks in a monastery in Uji city, Kyoto. Interesting though,  Uji city is famous for it's beautiful Uji river; and the former name of Kyoto was Yamashiro (Castle Mountain). In this site, you can find the official pdf version of Nishijima-sensei's translation of Dogen masterpiece, the Shobogenzo. The text I mention is in chapter 14, within Volume 1.

Being a loser!

When he was returning from China, some monks from Tendai school asked Dogen: "Dogen, what did you bring from China? What kind of teachings do you have?" He, then, replied: "Eyes are horizontal. Nose, vertical."

--

I was not there, but I am pretty much sure the monks looked at him with a puzzled face. "This guy is insane," they probably thought. In one of my first times practicing at Busshinji, a couple of years ago, the leading monk - Jisho-sensei -, told the attendees of that Saturday night zazen: "If you have come here today expecting to gain something, you lost your journey. Here, you won't gain anything; you'll just lose." That very moment, I laughed and thought: "Yeah, this is the place!"

Here in Japan I have been blessed by meeting a lot of different people, from a lot of different places and faiths. And I have learnt a lot from everyone of them. It is interesting to notice how many pre-concepts we bring with ourselves when we meet someone, and how we are so often wrong about them. I had ideas and concepts about Muslims and Arabs, and they were all broken down; all my thoughts on Thai, Malay, Indonesians and Vietnamese were proven wrong. And also was I wrong about most of the things in Japan too.

Having pre-concepts about something is not something bad or strange: it is only natural. We are all acquiring information on everything by all possible means and origins. We have a thinking mind, and we are instructed to use it as a previewing tool since our child days: we don't need to stuck our fingers in the wall socket to know the result is not gonna be pleasant. Having pre-concepts is something useful, sometimes. But not always. Sometimes we create so many pre-concepts in our minds that we start judging people, things or events in such a negative way that it prevents us from having unique experiences and learning. Being aware of which pre-concepts are useful and which are not is essential.

Buddha taught a group of monks from Kalama to never trust, practice or believe in something without a very careful inspection of the information you have, and if that action/practice/belief will lead to good fruits. This is a very good way of analyzing our own thoughts and pre-concepts. This is a very good way of analyzing our own behavior towards the world, and towards ourselves. Buddha's directions are given in Anguttara Nikaya 3.65:

• Ma anussavena:
 Do not believe something just because it has been passed along and retold for many generations. [Simpler: Do not be led by what you are told.]

• Ma paramparaya:
 Do not believe something merely because it has become a traditional practice. [Do not be led by whatever has been handed down from past generations.]

• Ma itikiraya: 
Do not believe something simply because it is well-known everywhere. [Do not be led by hearsay or common opinion.]

• Ma Pitakasampadanena:
 Do not believe something just because it is cited in a text. [Do not be led by what the scriptures say]

• Ma takkahetu:
 Do not believe something solely on the grounds of logical reasoning. [Do not be led by mere logic.]

• Ma nayahetu:
 Do not believe something merely because it accords with your philosophy. [Do not be led by mere deduction or inference.]

• Ma akaraparivitakkena:
 Do not believe something because it appeals to "common sense". [Do not be led by considering only outward appearance.]

• Ma ditthinijjhanakkhantiya:
 Do not believe something just because you like the idea. [Do not be led by preconceived notions (and the theory reflected as an approval)]

• Ma bhabbarupataya:
 Do not believe something because the speaker seems trustworthy. [Do not be led by what seems acceptable; do not be led by what some seeming believable one says.]

• Ma samano no garu ti:
 Do not believe something thinking, "This is what our teacher says".

Probably noticing the "Erm.. okay... then what would be the appropriate way of judging stuff?" look at the monks's faces, he goes further and says:

Kalamas, when you yourselves directly know, "These things are wholesome, blameless, praised by the wise; when adopted and carried out they lead to well-being, prosperity and happiness," then you should accept and practice them."

It is quite a nice and practical instruction meaning simply: "hey, you bastard! Think on what you're doing. Is it really worthy doing it?" The same way we deal with our philosophy, religion or whatever, we must deal with thoughts and habits. Are they really worth keeping?

After a wise and careful analysis, maybe we get to realize that, instead of things to gain, we have a bunch  more of stuff to lose. :)

--

Related readings:

The Kalama Sutta @ The Gold Scales website. This is where I found the version I pasted here. I liked it! They have a nice discussion on it also.

Kalama Sutta @ Access to Insight. This is Thanissaro Bikkhu's version of the sutta. They have another version on the Access to Insight also, and some links to other relevant suttas on this subject. Very interesting!

Mama, mama!

Today, going back home from university, I saw a little boy. He was probably between 7 and 9 years old. His mother was right beside him, and they were just behind the driver cabin, so that the little boy could hear the driver speaking and, with his mum's help, see the cabin.

"Mama, mama! I wanna be a driver!", he said to his mother. She just smiled and continued looking outside the train, absent-minded. At every station, the little boy would repeat the announcements made by the co-driver, and also the classical "yoshi!" that the driver says at every depart.

"Mama! We arrived at Ooimachi! It was super fast, wasn't it, coming from Hatanodai? And, the train on the other side, in the boarding platform #2, is the express train bound to Mizonokuchi!", he was telling his mother, so excited after arriving in the final stop. She would only smile at him and grab his hand so that they could go out in a rush after the door opened.

I didn't see them anymore, but I could hear, among the random noises of the station, his excited voice talking about how beautiful were the train lights.


--
When I was young, I really loved trains. According to my (now deceased) grandfather, I used to say I wanted to be a "train tire repairman"! Why? I have no idea. I just loved to ride on trains, they were so magical! And I, possibly, admired the work of tire repairmen: those filthy guys all covered up in grease with black hands and clothes. My grandpa was once a repairmen. I really admired him, and wanted to be like him when I grew up; but I also loved trains! So, the solution was being a tire repairman that worked with train tires! But, of course, trains have no tires. I didn't know about that, and also I think I wouldn't care. I would still want to be a train tire repairman.

When we are kids, we have no prejudice: everything is marvelous and wonderful, and every profession is special in its own way. There is no good or bad; there is no dream of getting rich, of status. We just want to do that which marvel us. I never wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer when I was young. After a while, I eventually had to give up on being train tire repairman, and dreamt of being my hometown major! I have no idea why, but I was a very political kid. I remember me driving my small kids bike with a flag of one local politician. And I remember me sketching some weird plan to clean the main river of my city, once I got elected mayor!! =)

Kids are really wonderful beings. You never know what they are going to turn into. But they are the only humans that can be truly happy. We should learn from them. Learn to gain back that awe for everything, learn to be impressed by the focus of the train driver, to be astonished by how fast we can go when we are inside those little metal boxes that move above tracks. We should learn from them how to live every single moment as a new and unique one.

"Yoshi!"