The joy of loosely held plans_01.
I can feel the warmth of the sun through my apartment wall against which I am leaning, and it’s only 11:30. Oppressive is a word I’ve used a lot in the last month, usually in close proximity to the word heat or weather. Also, sweltering, and sweat. The precise number in degrees, either Celsius or Fahrenheit, doesn’t matter. Either way, there’s no sense fighting it. Just embrace the fact that you will become a soupy, blathering mess after a few short minutes outside. This is made slightly easier by the fact that every single other person you meet is in the exact same mess. “Hot, isn’t it?!” It’s on the news, it’s on everyone’s lips. “Be careful!” “Take it easy!” “It’s hot!” For now, I’m embraced by cool air-con air. I just finished talking to Ben about the joy of loosely held plans. We were talking in the context of travel, as in it’s nice to have a relatively chunky one-thing-in-the-morning and one-thing-in-the-afternoon list, so there is some sense of having done something in a day of travel. Other than a two item check-list, travel days are to be enjoyed, like life in general. I told Ben I had written that in my journal, “life is to be enjoyed.” I didn’t tell him it was one of the richest all-the-learnings-in-one-sentence things I’ve ever written in my journal. It wasn’t about happy-clappy Hey, man just enjoy yourself. It was about the Stare everything straight in the face and chose joy anyway kind of enjoyment.
//
After the call I climb the stairs to Hinodechō Station and hop on the local train to Yokohama Station, from there I get on the Tokaido Line, south toward Atami. I am only going as far as Odawara (more on that in a moment). I have about 30 minutes and the train isn’t crowded, so I open up the journaling app on my phone. Another all-the-learnings tumbles out in the form of the entry below. It might not sound like much, from the other side of the inside of my heart and brain, but this little list represents a tidal shift in me. It was written to be shared, which represents a return to living-out-loudness, a return to playing-with-all-those-hyphens, a return to sharing all of this with all y’all. (Behind and underneath all that—in a way that’s so sprawling I’m not sure I could communicate it, and honestly I might not want to try—it represents a commitment to self-expression, hyphens, m-dashes and parentheses intact).
//
August 18, 2025
The joy of loosely held plans.
i. I have a loosely held plan to create a mind-map collage on on the south wall of KocoGarden.
ii. Another loosely held plan is to build a natural wood speaker system for the back wall. I’d like it to eventually be interactive by way of a drift wood sculpture/control surface.
iii. Another loosely held plan is to create a 2 x 1 meter paper map of HatsuKoHi (my neighbourhood) for the north wall of Kocogarden to use with interactive walks.
iv. My last loosely held plan is to install six fabric curtains dyed with indigo from Little Indigo Village (in Kamiyama). When the curtains are down the curtains and speakers make KocoGarden a “fourth place” for quiet reflection, work or study. When they are up, the north and south walls are visible for exhibition.
I am approaching all of this intuitively and with an improvisational ear, open to adaptation and creative opportunity along the way. I am also approaching all of this with joy, acknowledging the privilege of expression.
//
A few years ago I wrote:
Plans raise expectations regarding those plans. But, things rarely go as planned, plus we are rarely without plans, so we've pretty much guaranteed we'll be constantly disappointed because of our expectations brought about by plans. If one doesn’t have a plan one can’t be disappointed at the plan not going as planned. However, can you imagine doing anything without a plan? Neither can I. Therein lies our problem.
The joy of loose plans. Loose plans allow for serendipity. Serendipity is the soil of the unexpected blessing.
//
I finish typing just as the announcement for Odawara Station lilts—yes, lilts—over the PA system. The train glides—yes, glides—to a stop (seriously, I love the train system in Japan). I step off the air conditioned train and into the heat. It feels like what I imagine stepping into an oven would feel like. Always a slight shock after being in AC, “Oh. Yeah. It’s hot.” And always with the kind of thought I’d imagine you’d have if you actually stepped into an oven, “What. Even. Am. I. Doing. Here?” I have an 18 minute walk ahead of me. Less a walk and more of the-month-of-August-hopscotch: i.e. move more or less toward your destination while staying in shade for every second possible. Cross a road, take a back alley, go an extra block, anything to stay out of the direct sun.
Yamaguchi Sawmill is that way, says the blue dot on my phone. I head out. I am a soupy blathering mess exactly 15 seconds later.
//
More to come my friends. Here we go.