Transcription
Foree fore meets Hirayama, an aging toilet cleaner living out his days on the fringes of modern Tokyo, literally and figuratively. He lives out of a small, rundown apartment. He has no television, no smartphone, and listens to music exclusively on cassette tape. Outside of work, his days consist of visiting the same bathhouse, Ezekiel, and neighborhood bar. He eeks out an eager living in the margins of society, yet despite it all, he is decidedly content.
Hirayama lives each and every day with a level of satisfaction that most struggle to find in their entire lives. He is not conventionally successful, though he may come from a background of means, it's clear that he has long left that life behind. He now lives his days in mostly solitude, save for bits of interactions with the few regulars surrounding him. At first glance, Hirayama's life appears uneventful and mundane, but on closer inspection, it's clear he maintains a rich interior life. He spends his days peacefully appreciating the beauty of nature around him, connecting with the unseen and unheard. He enjoys classic literature as well as a carefully curated catalog of well-preserved music.
How is it that a man who lives in stark opposition to what most would consider success could actually be a beacon of enlightened thinking? How does a happenstance story about a toilet washer in Tokyo culminate in an essential meditative treatise on the very practice of mindfulness itself? In this video, we will examine the film "Perfect Days" and the steady, balanced life of a simple man named Hirayama, in the pursuit of applying his life philosophy, hoping to deepen our appreciation of this world and perhaps more importantly, discover how we may best live within it. Hi, I'm Tim, and welcome to my [Music] thoughts.
Hirayama's life is simple, aesthetic, one might even say, issuing modern technology. He lives free of distraction. Much of his day is regimented by routine, or perhaps more aptly, ritual. It's not clear why or how he arrived here, but it is apparent that it's by design. He reserves his time and energy, doing out diligence in every aspect of his routine: gardening, cleaning, photography, reading, even unwinding at his regular hangouts. He lives a life of such refined simplicity, it feels almost alien to the modern, social media-addicted nzen.
Which brings me to this term: Mushin. Mushin is a deeply rooted concept, pervasive through many East Asian religions, cultures, and arts, amongst them Zen Buddhism. The first character, "mu," represents negation, as in "not" or "without." The second character represents the heart-mind, "kokoro." Contrary to the Western conception of the heart and mind existing as separate entities, "kokoro" intertwines the two. We, as humans, are guided by a singular heart-mind. Thus, Mushin is the state of "no mind." I want to make a clear distinction here. This is not the same idea as heartless or mindless, the former being a lack of empathy, the latter a lack of intelligence, but rather Mushin is the state one achieves when the heart-mind is free from thought and attachment, a mind with no hang-ups, as it were. It is not a haziness, but rather a state of distinct clarity. The mind is clear to act and react without explicit intention or direction. It is characterized as a state of acceptance, openness, and non-resistance. Somewhat ironically, in modern terms, we refer to this concept as mindfulness.
Just a day to me, Hirayama encapsulates this philosophy as closely as one can while still participating in society. No matter what each day brings, he never fails to find little moments of peace amongst it all. Despite the natural ups and downs of life, he wakes and rises each day with the same appreciation and curiosity. Time bleeds from one moment to the next, days blur together, punctuated by hazy, monochrome dreamscapes. Life exists as a continuous spectrum, ever present, never dwelling on the past or ruminating about the future.
Throughout the film, Hirayama's interactions with others give insight into his persona and relative place in society. As much solace as his rituals afford him, he still lives in Tokyo, one of the largest metropolitan cities in the world. An unignorable aspect of life: humans need other humans, and humans complicate things. Each day, each scene, each character brings layers, adding to Hirayama's depth while simultaneously whittling down his hard exterior. These interactions illuminate various aspects of his personality: his dedication and work ethic, his empathy and kindness, his underappreciated efforts, his playfulness, curiosity, and bashfulness, his tentative, veiled desire for connection.
Observing Hirayama with others, it's easy to see him as non-committal and uncaring, aloof, but this interpretation misses a key piece of the puzzle. These vignettes paint a picture of a man who is intelligent, well-spoken, and charismatic, someone who draws people in without trying. He carries an air of wisdom and maturity, yet intentionally shrouds it. He doesn't seek drama or the complications of others, but also doesn't run when they appear. Ultimately, I believe Hirayama's character and personality are but an extension of his inner state of Mushin.
Zen masters of the past have likened the state of Mushin to that of a "kagami," or mirror, as if the mind itself were polished to a reflective sheen. Relative to those around him, and more importantly, to the viewer, Hirayama acts as a perfect mirror, reflecting one's own inherent biases and emotions back at them. In this film, there is no narrator. We do not hear Hirayama's inner monologue, and he does not explain his actions or motivations. So, as an audience, we are left alone, alone with a stoic toilet washer slowly winding his way through a ritualistic life, and resultingly, we are left alone with our own thoughts and judgment.
If Hirayama is a mirror, then how you view his life is but a reflection of how you view your own. As humans, we have this insatiable urge to stuff things into conceptual boxes, attempting to force the fuzzy squiggles of life into clean, straight lines. As a society, we judge people by their actions, their choices, their words. We compulsively strive to categorize everyone and everything: good or bad, efficient or wasteful, positive or negative, inspirational or depressing. "Perfect Days" is a special case because it simultaneously is all of these things, and yet none of them.
It is the epitome of "kōyō," the Japanese word for the shimmering of light and shadows that is created by leaves swaying in the wind. It only exists once, at that moment. Life is ephemeral, fleeting, here one moment, gone the next, an eternal dance of light and shadow. As much as we try to understand it, to succeed at its game, suffering inevitably arises. As much as we strive for happiness, we find depression. As much as we try to better ourselves, we find our flaws. Each attempt at enlightenment casts a long shadow, an endless procession of attempts that seem to take us nowhere other than where we already are. But where else could one possibly be but here?
Watching Hirayama's daily routine, his attention to detail, his penchant for analog, his conscious effort in everything he does, is an exercise in active meditation. It invites us, as the audience, to slow down, to take in all the subtleties of what we would otherwise consider unremarkable, gradually learning to appreciate the understated beauty of simplicity. But Hirayama is not perfect, and the life he's chosen is not without its pitfalls. He is, by and large, alone. He isn't some venerable, benevolent god. He is a human being, and to be human is to be flawed, to feel, to hurt, to laugh, to cry, to hide. But what makes Hirayama different is how he takes it all in stride, seemingly 2 feet off the ground, gliding from one moment to the next, appreciating each for what it is, accepting all it has to offer.
Ultimately, what Hirayama has found in his simple way of living is balance, mirroring the "kōyō" that brings him solace. This overarching concept is much more than simply a visual pattern; it is the very essence of this film, the very essence of life. Life is an ever-changing, ever-shifting amalgam of light and dark. Joy and suffering are two sides of the same coin. Light cannot exist without shadow; one implies the other. "Kōyō" is the expression of this fundamental truth. Hirayama intimately embraces this concept, seeing the ebb and flow of each day as individually distinct and beautiful, fleeting moments that will never again occur, yet the totality of which constitutes life itself.
And so, what does this mean? Should we all strive to live like Hirayama? Do we obtain the perfect day by becoming a hermit, closing ourselves off from society and technology? No, not at all. To reduce Hirayama's life in this way is to miss the point entirely. The recipe for the perfect day isn't found in the specifics of his particular lifestyle, but rather in how he chooses to live in each moment. Nothing. Mushin is not about manual labor or cassette tapes, but rather it's about taking time to appreciate life as it comes, reduce complexity, instead of seeking external validation and happiness, discover them within the self. Embrace the harmony of light and shadows, the ephemeral dance. Let life happen through you. Experience it and cherish it as it comes, instead of overthinking. Step outside the elaborate cages of worry and judgment. Step out inside of the anxiety of control, and instead, be here now.
We are but leaves on a tree, swaying in the wind, no more in control of the branch we grow from than the elements that make us small pieces of a larger, grander picture, ever flowing freely with the nature we stem from and the world that envelops us. There is nothing to do except to simply be. I'm Tim, and these are my thoughts.
"Perfect Days" is an incredible film, full of many nuanced layers of meaning. So, if you haven't seen it yet, I would highly recommend it, and I encourage you to share your thoughts and interpretations of the film in the comments below. And if you want to follow along on my journey through life, be sure to check out my Instagram and drop by the Discord. But as always, thank you so much for watching, and I'll catch you in the next one.