Dude tweets that he’s drinking a strawberry Slurpee at 7-Eleven. I post a photo of my hamachi sashimi dinner on Instagram while watching LeBron James and the Lakers play Kawhi Leonard and the Clippers. Neither is meaningful — at least I hope not, in the bigger picture. Just saying.
We have all kinds of expressions, some meaningful and lasting, others, not so much. Some expressions are temporal in design, predominately forgettable. Our expression lives in the moment. To sustain or not to sustain, that is the question?
My self-expression defines me even though I don’t always have something meaningful to say. We all don’t. What I say doesn’t always matter in that bigger picture. Yeah, I want to see LeBron James and the Lakers win the NBA Championship. That’s cool. However, who will care 50 years from now? Just asking.
I grew up in a middle class Japanese American family in Hawaii. Self-expression, speaking up, standing out in the crowd weren’t exactly taught or rewarded. In Japanese culture, we valued gaman, enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity. In other words: Don’t complain. Do your job. Don’t say, unless you have something meaningful to say.
Well, what do you do when you have something meaningful to say? That wasn’t explicitly spelled out in that cultural lexicon.
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Years ago, the late Mizukami Sensei told me that he really didn’t care how I trained in the Dojo. What mattered to him, was who I was outside the Dojo, in the world. That I take my Aikido training and apply it in life, where it counted most. That was Sensei.
Sensei studied the history of the Samurai, Japanese feudal warriors. When I often spent time at Sensei’s home, I saw his collection of books. Japanese swordsmanship, kenjitsu, was a foundation of Aikido. O-Sensei Morihei Ueshiba incorporated the footwork, body movement, and mindset of kenjitsu into Aikido.
Sensei’s samurai affinity was apropos. Sensei Bobby and I talked about what Mizukami Sensei meant to us. Bobby said Sensei’s life was about being of service. He reminded that samurai means “to serve”. Sensei’s life was so meaningful because he was about being of service to his students. He created the space for those like Bobby and me to become our greater versions. The meaningfulness in service. Sensei’s meaningfulness.
Working with my therapist Lance in healing my childhood trauma and depression, I got to the space where I looked at dating women, again. Lance asked me to make a list of attributes that I desired in a woman for a romantic relationship.
I had no fucking interest in deriving such a list. I didn’t see how imposing constraints or wants on others really fostered having a relationship. Then again, that was just me at the time. I had absolutely no interest in composing that list. That wasn’t meaningful to me.
So I looked for something meaningful. I’m a movie fan. At that time, I had written over 400 movie reviews on IMDb.com. Maybe, I could look at movies and discover what I wanted in a romantic relationship? Perhaps.
I looked at my favorite movie of all-time, “Meet Joe Black,” starring Anthony Hopkins and Brad Pitt. Anthony played Bill Parrish, who discovers that he’s dying and must complete his life and his relationships in a week. Brad Pitt literally played Death in the human form of Joe Black.
Bill defines what love is for him to his daughter Susan, played by Claire Forlani:
I know it’s a cornball thing, but love is passion. Obsession. Someone you can’t live without. I say fall head over heels. Find someone you can love like crazy, and who’ll love you the same way back. How do you find ’em? Well, you forget your head and you listen to your heart. I’m not hearing any heart. Because the truth is, honey, there’s no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love, well, you haven’t lived a life at all. But you have to try, because if you haven’t tried, you haven’t lived.
That was meaningful to me. That was love for me, too. So I continued looking at movies down this path: How did movies in some way define my life, my trials and tribulations. What began as a counter-proposal to composing a list turned into my passion, my purpose.
I looked at what was meaningful, like the Sensei and the Hero. I looked at myself, my childhood fears of my dad, and my need to prove that I was worthy of being loved. If I was going to take what I wrote and make it meaningful, I had to risk being as authentic as I could be. That meaningfulness might make a difference for others.
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I wrote a book, which was never my intention. I showed my work to my dear high school friend Ken, whom I’ve known for over 40 years. At the time, Ken was the two-time bestselling author. He told me that there’s an audience for my message out there. He recommended that I self-publish. Well, Ken would know. So, I self-published. As Ken suggested I got a copyright from the Library of Congress, too. So, I’m legit. Well, at least in some sense.
My book was not the fairy-tale bestseller. So far, I’ve sold a few dozen copies. Three of them I bought for Mom, Sensei’s wife, Alyce, and one for myself. Really, I shared my trials and tribulations for someone who could have been me. Someone who had experienced his or her life turbulence. I wanted that person to know that he or she is greater than they know themselves to be, to grind it out, to make it work. That was meaningful enough for me to say. Like Mizukami Sensei, I wanted to be of service in some way.
I’ve gotten a gracious response from those who read my book. Apparently, what I wrote struck a chord and made a difference. Learning that was meaningful to me. That was worth taking the risk to put myself out there in the world.
Ken connected me with Lisa Blacker, an editor at The Good Men Project. Lisa is my writing Sensei, helping me to become a greater writer, allowing me to just write. I’m as authentic as I can be. After reading a hundred of my essays, Lisa told me, “I know you better than you know me.” Yeah, I get that. I’m so grateful for who Lisa is for me.
Lisa is also the publisher at Connection Victory Publishing Company. Together, we are working on publishing books together. Having experienced the self-publishing path, this is an exciting possibility. We have something meaningful to say and want to make a difference in the world.
Not everything we express will be lasting or meaningful. Yet, when you choose to express something meaningful, be as authentic as you can be. That’s the only way you can profoundly make a difference for others. In the bigger picture, meaningful expression matters. Just saying.
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