It was cold. It was exhilarating.

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February 8
Snow has come.
I am watching little white flakes float down from the sky.
As if an invisible hand is shaving ice from above. (Imagine, Celestial Beings having one big bingsu party.)
As if the sky is showering confetti on me. Well done, you!
As if this slice of Earth cake is getting extra-generous sprinkles of icing sugar. Celebrate! Enjoy your life!
I am watching little white flakes become not-so-little white flakes as they pirouette this way and that in cold air. A slow dance crescendoes. The drama builds, as does the whiteness of the world outside. Now is the best part.
* * *
—What does falling snow sound like, you asked me.
I opened the window and stuck my head out—just until it got too cold to bear—for an answer.
—Elegance, I replied.
Little white ballet dancers landing with ample grace and no sound. Poetry in silence.
* * *
In that moment, I became certain that Snow is an Introvert. INFP.
* * *
Meanwhile, a quintet of (what looks like) Japanese Bush Warblers has gathered on the bench beneath the Sakura tree. How adorable. But I got to the window with my phone and camera too late. And then there were two. 

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* * *
February 8
Message to ZX
Ohayo :)
You appeared on my mind this morning.
Yesterday, it rained all day for the first time in a month.
Today, I woke up to a radiant sun. I don’t know how long this sunshine intends to stay, as snow is to be expected (later today). But I shall enjoy the sun now and the snow, if it does come, later.
I don’t quite know why I’m telling you this. I wanted just to say hello and know how you have been.
* * *
Time slows down when it rains. It often feels that way to me.
Looking at the snow now, time stretches out even more, as if it's freezing to near stillness at 1 degree Celsius, preserving everything in my sight in a magical cocoon of whiteness. And just like that, any sense of hurry and impatience left my body. My mind slows, too. The breath follows.

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* * *
I stood in front of the mirror and studied my face.
Though only briefly. I need more time, still, to befriend it.
* * *
Today I will not care about how I look
Only how I feel.
* * *
February 8
Lines from ZX's reply I highlight, as I would a book. To remember.
"I’ve been trying to be intentional in slowing down... I hope that by choosing to be deliberate with my time, I can hopefully do more meaningful work in future.
And by slowing down I seem to be able to have clearer understanding of how my life, habits and preferences have started to shift. 

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I quietly look forward to your stories and growth from afar. I hope your travels have been treating you well ❤️"

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* * *
Twice a day—once at noon, and again at 5pm—the bell chimes.
Iko tells me later that it serves as a reminder for the community, especially those who work in the fields, out of reach to the Hands of Time. A reminder to eat. A reminder to go home, to rest.
* * *
February 7
I ran for the bus this morning.
If I missed it, the next one is two hours away.
It was cold. It was exhilarating.
* * *
The joy and thrill of peeling open something new.
A book. A box of chocolates. A new jar of body cream. A life.
* * *

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At Bus Stop No. 8—
Ojiisan is holding the hand of obāsan, so she may lift one foot, and then the other, up the curb. She falters just a little. A coy laugh,  a little embarrassed, like a little girl learning her first steps again. He laughs with her, a little encouragement, then bends gently closer to her face, and asks: "Daijōbu?"
* * *
Writing:
Life entering my eyes, my ears
Tugging at my heart
Getting under my skin
Processed, then freed
Through my fingertips.
* * *
Ange asked if I have lost weight.
It is not weight that I am losing.
It is collagen
And time
Draining out of me like
water out of a bathtub.
* * *
Word: Notox
* * *
Remember when selfies were "cool"? We lived for it, didn't we? I am looking back with fascination and a sense of humour, that self of mine who was sucked into it, too. I'm relieved we have come to our senses. I'm glad what is "cool" again* is to fully live and appreciate the moment in front of us. That taking a photograph is restored its meaningful intent and purpose: To capture a moment in time we love, with people we cherish. To document. To not forget.
(*It was never not, I should say. We were only briefly distracted.)
* * *
On the left,
a pale mochi of a moon
On the right,
a bold and golden sun
Before me,
Mountains
Sea
Sky
Clouds
Winged creatures
***

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Tilda Swinton wrote a manifesto on how to live now. Which I discovered when her interview, WHERE IT’S AT… with Jefferson Hack in conversation with Tilda Swinton, was served up by YouTube like a fortune cookie. As I listened to it, it became clear that this is a list that contains many of what I consider to be of importance in my own life now—and a few more that elicited an a-ha within for further investigation. A list that I want to read on repeat, print out and put it where I can see it and live it every day. Of course, simply watching Tilda Swinton narrate it is itself a treat. Here it is:

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Make friends with chaos
Hold a calm mind
Let things shake
Forgive human frailty
Champion second chances
Defy unkindness
Reverence
Fellowship
Listen to the quiet
Respect the young
Seek growth
Trust in change
Treasure learning
Inspire faith in evolution
Reach beyond the binary
Be wary of the doubtless
Honour the bright-headed
Grow plants
Attend to the weather
Be electric
Cherish language
Celebrate silence
Dance daily
Bless the handmade
Sing into pain
Challenge assumptions
Follow the wind
Look upwards
Swoon under clouds
Feel your courage
Face forward
Read history
Open your ears
Drop your shoulders
Bend your knees
Raise the roof
Keep breathing
Be trustworthy
Take care of yourself
Believe in goodness
Head for the light 

Send these words with someone who might need them today. 💌

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Thank you for reading. Stories and words have, for a long time, been an important teacher and a source of light for me. Through the peaks and valleys of my life, they have offered me the courage, companionship, empathy, encouragement, hope and enlightenment—a way out / forward—I needed. Somehow, they always find me at the right time.
So, I’d like to conclude this letter with the words of a delightful 76-year-old Yoshiko-san—a tea master who was married to a Zen monk—I interviewed this week: