Storyboard / Inspiration
Monumental moments in life reach beyond the ordinary fork in the road. Some happen only once in a lifetime.
Things seem strange in this modern world. Sometimes crazy and sane appear almost interchangeable, though the dictionary would tell us they are not the same.
Just two events frame every human life: birth and death. What we do with the time between is the actual story.
In order to find one’s way out of the Ennui Valley, one must first understand what it is—and, more importantly, recognize when one is inside it.
There is nothing quite like the feeling of staring at a blank sheet of paper—or, better yet, at the canvas that is your life.
Everything in life has a purpose; nothing is entirely for naught. Even the ugly and brutal lessons born of adversity contain information that can be tested against the truth of one’s experience. If they appear to teach nothing, perhaps it is because we are ignoring—at our peril—the still, quiet voice that calls us toward an authentic life.
For better or worse, those who march to the beat of a different drummer are often the ones who change the world.
One of the fascinating aspects of having lived in Japan for nearly four decades is the deeper understanding that gradually emerges from exploring the nooks and crannies of this ancient and often esoteric civilization.
No one chooses the circumstances into which they are born. Indeed, birth may seem like a random act guided by the fickle finger of one among the plethora of gods dotting the infinite horizon.
Exhaustion is part of the game when one lives in the hierarchical age and works for a wage inside the Material Sludge stage.
One thing becomes abundantly clear after rounding out the puppy party at the castle of the Incidental Occxie, somewhere upon the windswept Kantō plains of Japan. Clover and Seity are gifts from the tutelary deity and proud members of the Arctic sled-dog breed.
The true desire of our tutelary deity was to turn his ever-capable hand toward one of his great loves and share it with the community—this was the seminal moment in which he established Fili’s Deli.
She married Kenji straight out of university, having met and fallen in love in La La Land—also known as L.A., the City of Angels, or so they say.
In your way is to embrace the day and by doing so, the matrix revealed itself as you see your superposition inside of it—throughout this ephemeral movie dream.
Sometimes a mountain forms naturally from a series of molehills, growing into something bigger each day—you know what the Japanese say, chiri mo tsumoreba yama to naru—even dust, when piled up, becomes a mountain.
Indeed, the word “work” has a plethora of meanings, and if we look at each one, we can see that work is actually what gives human life its value and meaning.
Be sure to internalize in gā ō hō, for it is a double-edged sword—capable of making life either extraordinary or extraordinarily miserable in the quantum playing field of reality—the choice is yours.
Regardless, the extraordinary life of this important historical women played pivotal roles in shaping Japan—politically, yes, but even more so through their contributions to the aesthetic heart of the Japanese creative mind.
Wayne was born into a strategic role—the first son of six children, number three—appointed as the nominee to receive the corporeal discipline meted out by life in a house ruled by strong hands and deep emotions that informed those olden days.
A couple of puppies shape this child's life, teaching the importance of caring for those whose lot in life is significantly different from human avatars—an important study session—the subject of investigation—the meaning of life.
Then it came—personalized computation power—a massive paradigm shift—the second Big Bang in this epoch of Hardcore History—copy 'n paste—a fundamental property of emerging humanity.
This is where the story takes a magnificent leap, shifting into a surreal theme—tracing the paper trail and the pathway leading to the magnificent front gate of Uasail Ó Seachnasaigh.
Her son, born in Japan yet not considered Japanese—whatever that may mean—in the ethnocentric nature of this island nation, which refers to mixed children as—half—a misnomer, to say the least—he is trilingual, holds a master's degree, and is complete as anyone could be.
What does it mean to love dogs so deeply that you’ve conjured up your own version of a high school girl’s dream—can anyone say—Siberian Husky ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶
