The Katamari Principle

Sandy explained to me about The Katamari Principle. And, on further reflection, I see how it applies to many, many areas of living.

As she prepared to go to Costa Rica, to teach English to children, she wondered (with some anxiety) how she would teach them everything they needed to know. English is so complicated, so irregular, and teaching... a challenge.

Then, with calm, she explained The Katamari Principle.

[NOTE to Readers -- If you have not played Katamari on PS2 (or whatever), well, you will not understand this at all. Maybe the picture will help.]

The Katamari is a sticky ball. As you roll it over things (in the video game), it picks things up. It starts as a small, sticky ball. It can only pick up small items. It will pick up a paper clip, but roll right over an eraser. As you pick up small items (paper clips, thumb tacks, etc.) the ball grows larger. As it grows larger it can pick up larger items (erasers, juice boxes). It grows larger still, and you can pick up even larger items (buckets, dog houses). And as you pick things up, the ball grows larger, and can pick up houses, and factories, and elephants (who are never injured).

Well, teaching English, she explained... would be like that. She might be just teaching them simple, small things (like the paper clips in Katamari). But they need those things in order to (later) absorb larger things (like verb conjugation, or ... dog houses in Katamari). Yes. So Sandy discovered a peace and comfort in knowing that teaching those simple things, while not the entirety of their need for English understanding, is foundational, and essential for them to proceed to learn the more complex things.

And in that, she found comfort, knowing that she would be able to give them what they are ready for, even though there would still be much to learn.

And as I go through my days, with challenging situations galore, and so much to learn and do. I realize that, in many ways, I utilize The Katamari Principle.

When making a change, I sometimes need to implement it in small steps... because the audience (or me) can only handle those small (paper-clip-like) steps initially.

And often, in my work and life, I get frustrated because I (in the all American way) want complete results quickly (as shown on TV!). I try to reflect on The Katamari Principle, and realize that my results now are small, but that is what I can accomplish now. While they are small, they are important predecessors to larger results, which may take time (and many, many paper clips of learning).

The big problems of the world -- health care, peace, an end to genocides and ethnic cleansings and civil wars (whatever name you apply to mass extinctions of cultural groups) -- I can do less than a paper-clip level of impact on these problems. But, in the Katamari ball of life on our planet, the accumulation of paper-clip actions prepares the world for a larger action (eraser, dog house, factory). And collectively, we are building a Katamari world that may (one day) actually fulfill the larger tasks of peaceful, safe, healthy living.

Yes. The Katamari Principle. It's a good metaphor for life, for learning, and for action. It is an infrastructure that encourages patience, and recognizes the value of tiny, tiny, steps. Those tiny steps are the ones we can actually take to change our world.

The Transfer Station

The Transfer Station

 

Today I went to the Transfer Station. Lovingly known as the 'dump' or 'swap stop'. I was there to transfer...... Leaving stuff that I am not using with the hope that someone would gleefully grab it up and put it to use. Continuing the cycle of energy that has been stuck (oh so long) in my basement.

 

Yes, moving is giving me a great time to transfer that stuck energy.  Most of my furniture went to Acton Household Goods Recycling Ministry. (www.hgrm.org) Families rebuilding after domestic violence or other crisis may have a dining room table, or living room chair, or a bookcase that came from me. It will be one nice thing in their hard world. The interesting thing is how it changes me. Giving all this stuff away to people who want and need it creates an inner well of good energy. I feel happy thinking about that table in someone's home. Maybe one small semblance of normalcy in a ragged life. I smile.

 

This is in sharp contrast to my emotional response to the many treasures I have in my storage locker. Heavy feelings emerge with the thought of all that stuff. Useful, wonderful, dormant. That's no way to live, is it?

 

At the Transfer Station, I've left boxes of crafts, sporting goods, exercise things, furniture. And it disappears. I sometimes go back with a second load and much of the first load has been picked up already. It has a home. With someone who wants it. I feel good about that.

 

One day, I took a big box of candle making supplies:  wax, wicks, molds, book, the whole nine yards.  A woman walked by and I said "It's candle making supplies." She said "OH! I was going to make candles with my daughter!". I replied "Well, there you go. It's just about everything you need to get started."  She took the box and walked away delighted. And I walked away delighted too. I recalled making candles with my daughter, and knew that this pleasure would transfer along into another life. It was like Christmas! That wonderful experience of just giving... no expectation, no keeping track, no response needed... just giving and relishing the fact that joy has been shared.

 

And, while I think of it, isn't Life just a huge Transfer Station? All the time, we're transferrinig. Exchanging cells, germs, energy, and attitudes with everyone we intersect. Usually unaware and mindless transfers:   a moan or groan, a smile.  Sometimes we're only too aware of the exchange:  shouting, swearing, gesturing, and traffic accidents. But, I'd guess most of our transfers are mindless and lost in the static of life. But they still get picked up. Each transfer has an effect. Somebody picks up the burden of your moaning. Maybe your smile lightened someone's day. And the residue stays with us... Sharing the smile creates more 'smiliness' inside. Sharing the moan... well, it's 'moaney' and tiring, and kind of heavy. Isn't it?

 

With each transfer we make a difference. We can choose what goods we share and exchange:  tables, chairs, smiles, respect, tolerance, patience. And in the process of giving that stuff away, we find that we feel better, lighter, happier. It's a very peculiar math.... Giving things away you are left with so much more.

Life: Railroad Track? or Circus Tent?

Another in my continuing "Metaphors for Life" series.

I ask myself... "Is life like a railroad track? Or is it more like a circus tent?"

I drive around a lot, and I have plenty of time to engage in this type of dialog with myself. So, I observe (as all great minds do), and I see some lives on a railroad track. These people know where they're going, and it seems their path goes straight there. It may take a while, sometimes it's a slow train, (a few of my friends had the bullet train), but they keep going in a straight, sensible, reasonable track to success.

And by success, I don't just mean career. It could be career. It could be marriage and relationship. (Kudos to those who can maintain a single, dedicated, relationship over decades!) It could be inner peace, or enlightenment, or musical performance. But, for some, that track goes on and doesn't swerve suddenly.

Then, I observe some more, and notice some lives in a circus tent. Lots of acts going on at the same time. New acts every few minutes. Occasionally, you get shot out of a cannon. (There is ALWAYS a net. One must remember this in the circus tent life!) The music is kind of brassy, but uplifting. People around you laugh and feel good and eat cotton candy.

Yeah. I'm a circus girl. And that's cool. What isn't cool is when I compare my circus program with the train schedule. OMG! I never know what time I'll get into a station. I don't even know what station I'll be at next!! This comparing is a source of suffering (not sure if Buddha knew about this, or if it fits somewhere in the 'craving, aversion, delusion' trio.)

Is there anyone who doesn't enjoy a circus? They're great! And living the circus life is also great. But don't marry a conductor. They want to punch tickets, stay on track, and don't like cotton candy on the seats.

The busy mind then begins to evaluate. It LOVES to evaluate (almost more than it loves comparing). Which is better? Train track? Your train track friends are successful, secure, stable, in durable relationships. That looks pretty good. Circus tent? It's lively, surprising, and sometimes scary. Hmmm.

Neither is better. Any more than Almond Joy ice cream is any better than Chocolate Brownie Fudge Chunk. They're both great. What is NOT great is that evaluating mind... Is my life OK? Is it OK to like Almond Joy ice cream? Maybe I really should like Chocolate Brownie Fudge Chunk more, (a LOT of people do). What is it with me and coconut anyway? Must be genetic. Evaluate, evaluate, evaluate yourself into a miasma of uncertainty and even (sometimes) depression.

How about enjoying the trip. On a train? Enjoy the scenery. Smile at the conductor. In the circus? Remember there is a net! Laugh with the clowns. Be a clown!

And if the circus is ready to open in a new town, it's OK to take the train.

Walking the Labyrinth of Life

The Labyrinth is a metaphor for life.

I walked the labyrinth in Concord slowly this evening. When I began, I could see the center (the goal?) not far ahead. The path led left and curved round, and twisted back and after walking about 50 yards, I had progressed the four feet to the center!

Isn't life just like that? You're right next to some objective, and you start working on it, and then the path curves round and miles later, or days later, you seem so close again. Then, there is a sharp curve and miles later, you reach the goal.

The main thing is to enjoy the walk. Slow down. See the path, and what it brings to you. You could just clomp over the brick barrier, straight to the center, but what fun would that be? You would have missed the WHOLE labyrinth!

Is the winner the one who gets there first? Or is the winner the one who gets there calmest? Or is the winner the one who enjoys the walk?

The Taoist Farmer

This story seems particularly relevent again today...

 

The Taoist farmer lived in a small town in China. People were poor there, and didn't have any luxuries. One day, the farmer's horse ran away. Because the town was small, everybody in town knew what had happened. They all came running to the farmer, who was hoeing his field. "That is so terrible, so terrible!" they exclaimed. "Maybe", said the farmer.

The next day, his son went out to search for the horse. At the end of the day, the farmer was working in his field when his son came home with four horses! Everybody in town came running to the farmer. "That is so amazing. You are so lucky! What good fortune!" they exclaimed. "Maybe," said the farmer, continuing to work his field.

The son worked to train those wild horses. It was a hard job, and he worked steadily. One day, he was trying to ride one of the new horses, when the horse threw him, and he fell. He was badly hurt. The doctor treated him for a broken leg. Now the son could no longer help with the farm chores. All the neighbors came right over to the farmer, pouring out their consolations. "That is too bad." "Oh, you were so unlucky." "How terrible it is that your son was hurt." The farmer continued planting his seeds and responded, "Maybe".

About a month later, the king declared war on the nearby territory. All young men were obliged to serve in the army. As the neighbor lads marched off to the war, some of the parents came to the farmer. "You are so lucky. Your son has a broken leg, and can't serve in the army." The farmer continued working his field. "Maybe," was his reply.

 

It is so easy to get caught up in the trauma of the moment. It looks so grim, or so perfect. It's hard not to get caught up in the emotion of the moment's events. But, life takes its funny turns, evolving in unexpected ways. What seemed a tragedy could really be a blessing in disguise. What seems a blessing, could be the prelude to tragedy. One can never predict. The best one can do is keep working the field, accepting the events, responding as needed.

So, I continue my duties, knowing that today's tragedy may be the seeds of tomorrow's blessing. I can only continue, and accept the life that flows over me.