Paul Valéry once wrote,

“To suffer is nothing more than to pay ultimate attention to something.”

In this episode, I think about what that really means.
We usually see suffering as something to avoid — pain, sadness, or struggle.
But maybe it’s also a moment when our attention becomes completely focused.

When we suffer, all distractions fade,
and we can no longer look away from what truly matters.
It’s uncomfortable, even painful,
yet within that focus, something honest begins to appear.

Sometimes, suffering isn’t only what hurts.
It’s also what teaches us how to see.

It was my first-ever trail run — 35 kilometers through the mountains of Jōetsu-Myōkō.
By the end, my legs stopped lifting, and I started to feel what “getting older” might really mean.

But it wasn’t sad.
It was a quiet reminder that even as the body changes,
we can still find new “first times” —
and feel, in every step, how alive we still are.

We often chase what’s efficient, profitable, or necessary.
But real depth — and real charm — comes from doing what doesn’t have to be done.

In this episode, I reflect on how “irrational” or unprofitable efforts often become the quiet seeds of something meaningful.
The things that seem useless today are sometimes the ones that grow the strongest roots over time.

When words float above feeling, they lose their weight.
The ones that stay are never perfect — just honest enough to reach someone.

Gossip isn’t about others — it’s a quiet reflection of ourselves.
When we look closely, even our jealousy and frustration can teach us something honest.

This episode explores a simple but powerful idea:
the wealthy don’t argue — they let things go.

Not because they’re saints, but because they understand the cost.
Every argument takes time, drains energy, and steals focus.
Letting things go isn’t weakness; it’s knowing what truly matters.

Whether in business, marriage, or everyday life,
the strongest people aren’t the ones who fight the hardest —
but those who can stay calm, smile, and move on.

Every Tuesday, I hike sixteen kilometers through the quiet mountains of Hanno —
a place close enough to Tokyo that I can be back by noon,
yet far enough to feel completely alone.

This time, I came across something new: fresh bear droppings on the trail.
It was a reminder that nature can be dangerous,
but its danger feels different from the kind we face in the city.

Bears, after all, have no malice.
They’re just alive.
And maybe that’s what makes the silence of Hanno
feel strangely peaceful.

What if someone spends their entire life pretending to be kind — and never stops?

This episode reflects on the idea that even “hypocrisy,” if lived sincerely and consistently, can become something genuine.

If we wear a mask long enough, perhaps that mask becomes our true face. A quiet look at authenticity, perception, and the strange honesty that can exist within disguise.

We often tell children to “make friends” and “get along,”
but we rarely remind them — or ourselves — about the right order.

This episode reflects on a simple idea:
that before seeking approval or belonging,
we need to find what we truly love.

When we start by trying to fit in,
our sense of “what I like” slowly fades under other people’s expectations.
It’s not that we can’t find what we want —
it’s just that the noise around us becomes too loud to hear it.

A quiet reminder about priorities,
for both children and adults who may have lost touch with their own voice.

I recently tried to complete Japan’s Furusato Nozei one-stop tax application online.
What should have been a quick digital process turned into an hour of confusion on my Mac — plugins, drivers, browser settings, nothing worked.

Then I tried the same thing on my phone.
It took one minute.

This episode is about that small experience — and what it says about how digital systems actually work for ordinary users.
No frustration, no ranting.
Just a quiet look at how a single click can change everything.

Just two weeks after my visit to the Louvre, a real-life “Lupin” story unfolded in Paris.
In only seven minutes, thieves broke into the museum’s Galerie d’Apollon and stole royal jewels worth over $100 million.
The operation was so precise it felt like a movie—yet it was real.
In this episode, I reflect on the details of the heist, the history of past Louvre thefts like the Mona Lisa, and how sometimes reality quietly surpasses fiction.

Traveling without a plan might sound unorganized, but it’s often the most relaxing way to see the world.
In this episode, I talk about how a tightly scheduled trip to France left me more exhausted than inspired—and how my past, unplanned journeys felt freer and lighter.
When we stop chasing our own schedules, both in travel and in life, we start to notice more, breathe more, and enjoy more.
Sometimes, the best plan is to have none at all.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how rating systems have changed.
On some apps, honesty seems to be punished—leaving a bad review can make you an outsider.
From Mercari to Airbnb, everything looks “perfect,” but that perfection feels artificial.
Real trust doesn’t come from stars or scores—it comes from friction, honesty, and the small courage to say, “This part didn’t work for me.”

In this episode, I talk about a structural flaw in Mercari’s new auction system — where buyers can win an auction, never make a payment, and still walk away without any rating or consequence.
It’s not about frustration, but about how a “kind and easy” system can quietly remove responsibility.
I compare this to the older Yahoo! Auctions model, where accountability still had weight, and explore what this shift says about how online platforms shape human behavior.
A short reflection on convenience, responsibility, and what we lose when systems become too gentle

Sometimes the smallest things make the biggest difference.
Like Apple’s Universal Clipboard — copying on one device and pasting on another without thinking.
It’s simple, almost invisible, yet it quietly makes daily work lighter and smoother.
Real usability isn’t about flashy features; it’s about comfort — the kind that lets your mind breathe and your hands move naturally.

Sometimes the body speaks before the mind notices.
When stress lowers HRV, it’s not weakness—it’s a quiet sign to slow down.
Breathe, listen, and let the numbers remind you how to live gently.

Just recently, I listened to Mizuki Tsujimura’s Asa ga Kuru (Morning Comes) on Audible and wrote in my blog that it was “an extraordinary novel.”
That experience left such a deep impression on me that I couldn’t stop there.
From yesterday to today, I listened straight through Yamihara — and it was, once again, incredible.

A quiet reflection on the difference between living fast and living fully.
It’s not about rushing to achieve more, but about breathing, slowing down, and giving your best to each day.
Because a life without regret isn’t found in speed — it’s found in presence.

Sometimes all it takes is a small change — a different street, a new café, an unexpected conversation.
When we move, even just a little, life has a way of meeting us halfway.
Good coincidences don’t wait at home; they begin the moment we step outside.

I listened to Asa ga Kuru by Mizuki Tsujimura on Audible.
It’s not horror in the usual sense—no ghosts, no crimes—yet it quietly reveals how fragile a “normal” family can be.
As a father, I found it deeply unsettling and painfully real.
Sometimes the scariest stories are the ones that could happen to anyone.