All morning, a village in fog
October 30th, 2013, 6am in Nachikatsuura, Japan
These are my criteria, he said:
First, we must be physically high. High up on some perch where the good energy flows. High enough so there is something to look down upon. High enough so that when you gaze forward out the window, you will be greeted with mostly sky, some land. No higher, no lower.
Second, we need light. Lots of it. South facing is best, of course (for those of us in the northern hemisphere). Let the light wake us in the morning and warm the room during the afternoon and when it's gone let us know it's time to stop and eat.
Third, we need a hawk. Just one. One who lives in the valley. One hawk to watch when we are bored.
Fourth we need a jovial owner. He'll make us laugh when we're tired and supply us with cold beer. He'll find fresh fish and have it prepared just so. It will be delicious.
He said these things and lay back down on the mats and closed his eyes knowing these were truths.
We looked at him and said, Buddy, you got your verbs in a tangle. You know, you don't need any of that shit. And, furthermore, who do you think you are? Paulo Coelho? But, lucky you, this place just happens to have it all.
It was 19°C with few clouds. The wind was light.
All the thanks
