Empty Days /  by Peter Panacci

Somehow i don’t feel okay staying in . . .
but I also feel empty and lost when I go out. So i spent several hours just walking in the rain.

2/11/2024
the lie is that people assume that you miss someone
that their absence haunts you or hurts

the Truth that people don’t understand
is that you’ve lost the ability to be happy,
that you’ve lost the very parts of yourself that let you be,
that gave you the ability to smile, to be okay,
to be capable of being happy

Without that person, you’re not just incomplete,
you are no longer you.

Disjointed
empty
broken
missing
torn
shattered

just pieces that come together to look like you,
the shape of you

but when i catch a glimpse of myself,
i can’t recognize who that is.

4/11/2024
there is a notion we should be self contained, able to be independently happy.
does this idea come from the illusion and deceit of Ego?
A worker ant, a bird who mates for life, a fish who lives in a school, a wolf within its pack,
can they survive disconnected and alone?
Yes. They can.
but survival is not happiness, it is not fulfillment,
it is not meaning.

the fallacy is that we should be able to mend,
to stitch our life back together again, just connect the broken torn parts,
and be capable of the same again.
to be yourself, to be okay,
to live life in a meaningful way again.

what a joke.

the pieces don’t fit together.
the holes are too large to close
a million pieces falling through your hands,
and even more already lost to the wind

im giving up on all expectations, on all hope i that delusion.
being broken is hard enough.

trying to manage /  by Peter Panacci

19/10/2024
I feel like i’m living waiting for her to come back
thats why i can pretend to be okay
when nothing is okay

28/10/2024
everything feels heavy today
… too heavy …

29/10/2024
theres a hollowness
deep within me
a rift torn open,
an empty well

i try to scream
to force something
into that emptiness
to feel anything

paralyzed by feeling too much
and too little
all at once
this broken world i cannot recognize

31/10/2024
you seek out places that are empty, void, bleak"
where the sadness can come out,
can envelope you, devour you
thats the only way to feel real,
to feel okay not being okay

finding places where you can be empty
alone, distraught
sometimes it seems like the only way to breathe
and make it
moment to moment
day to day

fade away

16/10/2024 /  by Peter Panacci


Alone
Alone my whole life
Disconnected and alone
Lost in books, removed from the world and alone
i never could find meaning

Then i found you,
and all that happiness
love, connection, together

Now i can’t be alone anymore,
but i am
and its slowly tearing me apart
small piece by piece
… slowly ..
day by day, i become more lost
i lose myself
and i feel so alone

Awareness /  by Peter Panacci

If you think somewhere else will be more beautiful, nicer, more exciting, or that it will make you happier and solve your problems, then you’re missing what is important.

Wherever life is, that’s where you are, and nothing else out there in the world will solve your problems.

Remove everything, take away all that you have, and see what kind of a person you are.

You may not like what you find. I didn’t. But at least you can start to understand your true reality.

Social /  by Peter Panacci

I heard a beautiful, difficult question today about social media, and I think it also extends beyond to socializing in general.

How much of our social life is connecting with others, and how much of it is performing for others or ourselves?

How much of it is a genuine connection that brings us together with people, and how much of it is creating an image, playing a role, acting the part, that we want, or need to?

At least here I feel these words are just going into the void, and they often are. Pebbles echoing down an empty well where no one ever hears the final splash. That’s why I can be myself in writing. I don’t have to perform for anyone, not even me.

Just like in a Murakami novel, I can slip into oblivion, descend into the darkness and quiet, and let my being dissolve into the emptiness.

loneliness /  by Peter Panacci

there is a level of punishment you feel you have to mete out
both to others and yourself

you push people far enough away that you cannot feel anymore
and you dig yourself deep enough into your own misery
that the light is too far away to see

and then, you wrap yourself in loneliness and self pity
and you feel for once that finally, you’ve achieved something
that this state of being forgotten is the one thing you deserve
and you pretend, for as long as you can
that this is the truth and that you won’t come to regret all of this
because if you truly stop to think about what you’re doing
you know how pathetic and vain it all is…

5 months /  by Peter Panacci

These past few months have been a constant struggle, ups and downs that leave me tired, confused, hurt, angry and frustrated. Sometimes when I am walking, I stop and write. Here are some of the things I’ve written.

when the world became too cold to touch
when the heaviness forced you down
forced you to sit and watch
when you used to run and laugh
they tried to keep taking from you
piece by piece, moment by moment
unknown joys, unseen dreams
a life unlived

but the more they took, the harder it became
the brighter you shined
Sunlight found its way to your smile
in your own little ‘paradise’
scents you longed for, back in Italy,
slowly found a way to touch your hands
and all the weight of the world, never rested
on your shoulders for more than a few hours
wonder, laughter, love
washing them away
even life was unable to darken the Light within you

stories and narratives
are all i have
to keep me company

and they aren’t enough

memories of the past
as empty as this summer breeze
and autumn is coming…

one stone,
for every sin

my life, i pray
the ocean
washes them away

i used to walk these bridges,
lights impossibly clear
piercing through the shadows and doubts
i was on my way to you

Time doesn’t pass when you enter a bridge
you fall between worlds
looking down, you see life drifting by
every moment you missed, untouched, unclaimed

now i stop on these bridges
lost and alone
some part of me, trapped forever, looking down
searching for our life together, drifting by …

every bridge i cross,
it gets harder to move on
each time i leave a part of me there
waiting for You.

as the moon haunts me,
i leave more empty, faded, ephemeral
less human …
trapped between these worlds

In the morning light

alone, in this cage,
one stop before the end

your vacant eyes scan ahead of you
i see how alone you are right now
that void surrounding you,
so similar to my own
silently we drown on our own islands

how many broken dreams tuck you in at night?

but i a full of shit, and have no spine
so i sit here, alone
feeling sorry for myself
and close my cage door

alone.
in the morning light …

the path you took, is closed to me
the gate is locked, you took the key

i wait behind, amongst our things
which slowly fade, and lose their ring

the lights gone out, i’m numb and cold
the silence gives, no hope to hold

these words all fail, just empty shells
your voice and smile, a tale i tell

to remind me of you …

none of them taught me to heal,
none of them taught me to understand …

something no one can teach you

but Bukowski showed me its okay
to be so broken, to be so forgotten

to be so alone as the walls slowly crush in on you …

sleeping on the train
hundreds drift unaware, blind

to the setting sun …
to the falling sun …
to the dying sun …

i don’t mind how fast
the world moves
around me
tears flow as they need
matching the beauty
and sadness within me …

My sunshine /  by Peter Panacci

Whenever you find the sun shining on you, even for just a moment, and feel its warmth and love, think of Aya 💛 a part of her lives on in each of us and she would love to enjoy the sunshine together 💛

1 Week /  by Peter Panacci

1 week or 2 months.

2 months since the proudest day of my life, when we officially, quietly, and secretly, made our union official.

1 week since I lost my best friend, my partner, my love.

2 months since I realized the absolute joy and thrill of being able to call you my wife.

1 week since I held you, kissed you, and told you I love you.

2 months since we started this new chapter of our lives together.

1 week since I became lost and afraid without you.

I don't know which is stronger within me, the pain and fear of losing you, or the love and joy you've given me.

Anything that is mentionable ... is manageable... /  by Peter Panacci

Thoughts I wanted to share. Let's all ask, and help, life to be kind in Aya's memory 💛

“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.”
— Fred Rogers

Wait for me Aya /  by Peter Panacci

Aya my love.

You told me the feeling you hated the most was being left behind.

We promised each other, from now on, we'd always be together. We'd never leave each other behind. And we always kept that promise.

So now, please wait for me, my love. Wherever you've gone, it can't be far from me. You've just gone ahead a little in our journey, but wait for me and I will find you soon. I know you would never leave me behind, so I will try to be strong until I find you again.

You always asked me, "Do you know that I love you?" And I always knew the answer completely with all my heart. And when I asked you, "Do you know that I love you?" I was always so grateful that I could see and feel that you knew how utterly and completely I loved you, with all my heart 💛

You are my home. I am home with you Aya. I will keep our home together with me, and you keep it with you, and we will be together soon.

I love you Aya. Wait for me ❤️

Hold on /  by Peter Panacci

Hold on tightly to hope, keep it close to your heart and nurture it as best you can.

One day you may find it is the only thing left.

Memories of Ethiopia Beloya /  by Peter Panacci

Ethiopia Beloya Natural 7 Day Fermentation by Mame Pole Pole Coffee Roaster in Okinawa.

This coffee was an incredible surprise and treat from my love, Aya. I did not expect anything and she caught me off guard with this beautiful gift of three coffee beans, all from a world championship medaling roaster in Okinawa. I had never heard of Mame Pole Pole Coffee Roasters (Mame means bean in Japanese) but now I can’t wait to visit them the next time I’m in Okinawa.

This bean was my favorite of the three and it was something really really funky. The 7 day anaerobic process means the beans took on a more fermented, dull tone, being darker and more brown, even the skin of the coffee beans being distinctly different. The smell was this wonderful complex mix that I couldn’t quite place. It was fruity, full, smooth, but also … did something to my brain that felt like magic. It was jarring in the best possible way <3

Not only that, the beans themselves were beautiful. The quality of the selection and roasting was really noticeable. They were light in the hand, uniform, no cracks or misshapen beans, and honestly … just beautiful. This roast was something special and I enjoyed every single cup of it.

This coffee was the coffee I drank through many of the most important moments of my life.

It was the coffee I drank going down in the mornings to the river to watch the sunrise.

It was the coffee I drank with Aya as we sat under the sakura tree next to our home, watching the early blossoms open and surprise everyone.

It was the coffee I was drinking when Aya and I decided to get married and be husband and wife.

It was the coffee I brought with me when we visited Ichi Kamakura and had our wedding bands designed.

It was a coffee that I shared with Aaron and Jing since I really wanted them to try and experience it as well.

And it was the coffee I drank the morning of my wedding, the equinox, March 20th, 2024, where I married the woman of my dreams and my true love Aya Shigefuji.

This coffee saw my life change in so many ways, but also stay the same, filled with love and appreciation for what life has given me.

Memories of Hoa Champa Coffee /  by Peter Panacci

This coffee from Vietnam was a wonderful gift and surprise from Mara, one of our dearest friends. She gave it to me after her trip through several parts of Vietnam, which I was deeply envious of.

There was a funny story about this coffee getting lost along the way and only with the help of some of Mara’s friends, did it make its way from Vietnam, to Malaysia and then to Japan.

The flavor was darker and creamier than I’m used to, it was closer to the profile of an espresso or darker roast, although maybe that’s just my bias from mostly drinking only light roasted coffee. It felt smooth and full bodied with very little acidity.

A wonderful part of this gift was the memories it stirred of my time in Vietnam, one of my absolute favorite countries. The people, sights, smells, food and lifestyle, it truly is a magical place filled with the most down to earth people who will welcome you into their homes.

With this coffee I was able to see Fra and Mara and make it for them when they visited. Even with a comparison light coffee, they both enjoyed this more and found the acidity and sourness of the light roast too overpowering. It makes me think of keeping some darker beans on hand to make for friends when they visit.

This coffee helped me get through quite a hectic time, both overwhelmed from school and also trying to adjust and manage difficulties at home. It came just before the spring and almost heralded the warming weather.

With this coffee I enjoyed some of the first buds from the cherry blossoms, going out for drives into the countryside and seeing the coast near Kamakura.

Cocoon /  by Peter Panacci

I began by carefully setting the atmosphere and setting for my experience. I spent the morning cleaning, organizing, clearing away distractions and eating a little. I wanted to start early, but I also wanted to take my time, not to rush. I was never nervous going into this, but I just knew a really important element was coming into it properly, like taking a slow, leisurely walk down a gravel path, I didn’t want to rush and miss anything, and I wanted to let the world kind of unfold along the way.

Objects and things I chose to surround myself with, along with my journal and some snacks :)

I showered, changed into the clothes I had picked out, felt refreshed and ready. I decided to make coffee as things began, to use my normal ritual to help open things up. As I prepared the beans, the water, set up my cups and dripper, I started to eat small amounts and enjoyed the feeling of beginning something new. This is the first song I played during all this.

I slowly drank my coffee, and sat back on my couch. The music has a wonderful way of covering your being, enveloping you in its rhythms and waves. I just relaxed and waited. Things began to slowly take on more focus, little by little, but nothing dramatic. Maybe I just became aware of little things. The leaves on my plants, seemed to move a little more. Maybe they were breathing? I felt my body soften and drift into the cushions. I laid back, closed my eyes. And fell asleep. Not a normal sleep, more like a shutting off of everything. I napped this way for maybe 30 minutes. When I awoke, I felt closer to normal, reality seemed a little closer and more normal. In my heart, I was a little disappointed. I felt like I was waiting for something and it had slipped away a little. Disappointed, but not angry or upset, just … waiting.

This is when I reached out and picked something up. The small blue cocoon so important to me. This is when things started to change.

Here are three avatars I had set out. The giraffe is something I made for a friend, but it broke, and I tried to fix her. Something mended and put back together. Thomas was a surprise Ayano and I got from a sushi restaurant and he has come along with me on all my travels since then. The Cocoon which is out of focus was made by Dianne, my godmother and someone who looks after me. Her love is this unconditional, beautiful warm part of my life. She made this piece from delicate porcelain clay, and inside, it has something special which rattles and shakes. She placed it into my hand the last time I saw her, and when I asked her what it was, she said it would bring me back home safe.

I reached out for the cocoon, it somehow called to me, and I held it within my left hand. Once I held it, somehow things felt different. I felt more at peace, more relaxed. I lost track of time then, and felt I wanted to lay down. I moved to my bedroom. I had opened the curtains and a lot of afternoon sun was shining through. I lay on my right side, in a fetal position, and slowly closed my eyes. As my eyes closed, I felt a pulsing, beating, living thing slowly emerge. As the visual ‘waking’ world receded, this other world came into being, or woke up, or simply made itself known to me. It was a thin layer, beating, breathing, a lizard skin that perfectly matched the world, but was deep beneath it. It was made of beautiful, dazzling patterns of colours, colours which moved and shifted along with its breathing. It was warm, welcoming, this incredibly peaceful, living moving dragon which covered me. I opened my eyes, and in the same way, it receded and disappeared as the ‘real’ world came into focus. I smiled. I was so happy. I could see it, it was there, and if I wanted to see it again, all I had to do was close my eyes. I understood, the world I see is just one part, and when I close my eyes, I can see and be part of this living moving entity. I closed my eyes again, and let it cover my world. If I try to describe it another way, maybe it would be like if I was inside the belly of a giant salamander, a giant lizard, and I was looking at the world through the membrane of its skin. Maybe. But it was so much more.

I don’t know how this understanding came to me, but I felt the seasons changing, I don’t know if I saw leaves changing colours, but I felt them, I felt winter come on, and spring return life to the world. I knew then that this was me, that I was someone made of seasons. That’s why I cannot commit, I am someone constantly changing, moving from one season of myself or life, to another. This helped me understand why I always feel … restless or unsettled. It felt natural when I experienced this. I could let go of trying to trap myself, trying to pin myself down. I can move. I have seasons.

I noticed that I had tears streaming down my face. They were warm and wet, and I was smiling, I felt very happy, very content. During this, as I lay on my right side, my back was to the sun, so I was partly shaded from it. Now I slowly turned over, and lay on my back. I held up my left hand, the cocoon warm and safe within it. I felt a sudden understanding. The cocoon was radiating a red, warm, heat from withing my hand. It was shining in a non visual way. I concentrated on it, what was going on? That’s when I understood, (not see, but just knew) there was a vein, a green root, invisible, but stretching from the cocoon, into my hand. It was deep in my palm, and snaking its way into my arm, was entwined with my bones, my veins, and it stretched down inside my whole arm, into my shoulder, and pierced its way into my heart. Into my heart, but my heart was just a … portal, or gateway… some intermediate place, where the root stretched into, and through, and disappeared from my knowing, even though I know it moved and connected me back to my home, back to the love and warmth given to me by Dianne.

The image I have when I try to describe this understanding is like a small row boat drifting on a perfectly calm ocean. The water reflects a beautiful sunset, clouds and light perfectly still on its mirror like surface. And then looking over the edge of the row boat you see a chain, an old, worn chain gently stretching down to the surface of the water. You see the chain piercing the water, but you know it does not end there. The chain is connected deep deep below to an anchor. An anchor you cannot see but which goes to depths you cannot fathom. My heart was the surface of that water, the point where the chain met it, and pierced through. Isn’t it funny, my heart really isn’t the destination at all, only a place in between. My home is the anchor, and my home is where the love comes from. I guess my body, my reality, my mind, those are all the boat, and me within it. But those don’t matter. It’s the chain, the love, the anchor, the home, which keeps me in place, which makes me safe. I wondered why this was the image I was shown, why Dianne’s Cocoon was my anchor. Then I realized, even though I have so much love from family, from my father and mother and grandparents, even my grandfather who just passed, I was thinking, why was it not his love anchoring me?

Then I knew, their love was unconditional, unconditional in a way which is beautiful, but also different. They are family, they have inherited me. No… I am a part of them, we share everything already. But Dianne’s love and home she created for me, that was something she chose to do. Something she had given me, from herself. I just lay there, and felt so warm and happy in those moments, and felt really truly safe. I knew nothing could harm me, I was holding onto my home.

As I lay in bed, I felt the sky open above me. It was this beautiful clear sky, a Mongolian sky of the most incredible blue. It picked me up, held my being. The sky was flying, gliding, it was moving and breathing. It was then I understood the sky was a giant, universal manta ray, a giant sting ray floating above us. It’s wings were infinite, infinite folds, moving and ephemeral, but welcoming me into them, this peaceful beautiful feeling, being a part of a moving sky, a great majestic beast above us all.

My perception and being became overtaken by a large temple. A shrine. A huge, giant, elaborate and infinitely intricate Hindu temple rose out of the ground and appeared before me. It was dominating, not in a strong, negative way, but it dominated my perception, my being, there was only blackness, nothing else existed except this temple with its infinite gods, elephants, complexity. It was carved from beautiful, shining ivory and bone, it glowed with a beautiful soft light, like beneath its carved surfaces were candles inside, illuminating it from within. It was all around me, but distinctly in front of me, rising, a monolith, a commanding presence that filled me with awe. I stared at it, I felt my being come closer, closer and closer, and as my awareness saw more, saw it in more detail, it was fractal, the statues multiplied and expanded in smaller and smaller detail, gods and images within gods and images, intricate mazes and puzzles, all layered within one another. But more important, the most powerful aspect was that it was breathing. The ivory and bone was alive, it was one giant, breathing presence. This beautiful monument, older than time, something primordial, allowing me to see it. Thinking back now, maybe I was seeing the infinite manifestations of belief and interpretation, what we break down into religions or superstition, things I mostly think of as man made. But they were all one, giant, living breathing existence. I was humbled. I felt overwhelmed, but still, in a safe, happy way. I was seeing something more beautiful than I could imagine.

I shifted back into the world, or more likely, I descended and returned into the ground. The presence, the mountain of belief and complexity, receded or disappeared, I don’t remember. But the next feeling I had was that I was in the earth, part of the earth, and I was revolving. I was turning with the earth. My perception was covered in darkness, there was nothing but empty space all around except for this earth which turned and revolved. It was small, but also huge, like I was seeing the world from space, but also within it, knowing how large and huge it really was. I placed my right hand on my chest, and as I did that, I felt a temple, this huge structure rise out of the earth. It was a buddhist temple, ornate golden roofs, high straight beams of solid wood supporting it all. It was part temple, but more and at the same time, not visually, but in essence, it was a face. It was a face rising out of the earth and looking outwards. I saw it in profile, like a temple with the sunrise behind it, beautiful light shining of its edges, spreading through the pillars and openings, a place of hidden beauty and mystery. I moved my hand down my chest and to my stomach, and as I did so, the temple turned and returned into the earth, like the world had revolved and a new part came to the front. When my hand reached my stomach, a new temple emerged, striking out from the ground, the same kind, a buddhist temple with golden roofs and high pillars of wood, but distinctly different. This one was also a face, or should I say, some part of the earth looking out, like a coin with different sides. The earth was showing me that it manifested itself in different ways. I moved my hand lower, towards my groin, and again, as it moved, the temple returned to the earth, the world turned, and a new one emerged. A new face looked out and stood tall.

I understood that pleasures, the things we take from the earth, were all different, but simply different faces of the greater world. Our pleasures, our appetites, our sexual desires, they are pure, they are ways we experience the world. The world revolves and so do our wants and needs. There is nothing wrong with them. They are pure. These temples were our places of worship, or connections to the deeper truths. I have had so much shame and fear and insecurity in my life, but these disappeared. I felt like nothing was good or bad or right or wrong, they simply were, we were simply praying at the temples of our desires and these were all part of the world. Maybe I am talking in circles :) But I felt a weight lift off from me, like the earth had given me permission to enjoy life, to partake in joy and pleasure, and know they are just shifting parts of life.

It was after these experiences that I got up and left my bed. I returned to the living room, I ate some snacks, moved to the kitchen. This whole time I had not spoken a single word, even within my mind. All my experiences, I had them with a sense of knowing and understanding, but I didn’t seem to exist. As I stood in the kitchen, I said out loud, “Yes, this is good.” And then I realized for the first time in a few hours, I had not thought about myself, I had not thought about “I”, and I laughed. I laughed at how silly my normal way of being is, thinking of myself. I had heard before about the dissolution of ego that can happen, but I had never known what that would be like. It was a beautiful, freeing feeling. I laughed and practiced saying some words out loud, things like “Speak the truth”, and thinking that when we talk, we turn things into “reality”, and then I said, “That’s so silly”. I was having fun discovering that I was something unique and individual again. But it seemed like such a silly notion, to think that I’m my own being. I laughed and held onto my cocoon.

By now several hours had passed, I had started at 10:10 am, and it was almost 1 am. A friend messaged me and asked if I wanted to have icecream. I decided that yes, I wanted to go out. So I decided to shave and head out. Shaving, while holding my cocoon in my left hand, and with a straight razor was interesting. I was still wrapped in the glow of feeling completely safe,of being anchored and protected. I even thought about cutting my face and my wrists, just as something to do, and laughed and thought how silly that was. Proving I was safe and protected meant nothing, I already knew I couldn’t be hurt. Looking back now, I’m glad I dismissed the idea so easily and laughed at it.

I got ready to go and left, I wanted to be out in the world now, to see people, to have experiences. My mind returned to the revolving temples of the earth and how all life and experiences are pleasures we can share in. I walked to the station, smiling and laughing to myself, silently watching the world and being so happy. It was after this walk, as I sat on the subway, that I took this photo. I wanted to communicate with Ryan and Alicia that I was thinking of them, and how happy I was :)

How happy I was feeling

How feeling happy made me feel :D

I can’t remember when this happened, I think it was on the mrt, but I remember these words entering my mind. “Big is bad.” Instantly I knew it was true. This was something I had forgotten, or lost, or missed in my life recently. Big is bad. Big ego, big self, trying to be big, trying to make myself important. Yes, it was bad. And then the image came into my mind of photographs. Yes, “static was okay”. Showing life as it is, that is alright, that is not being big. I can be a lens, I can share my experiences, but for them, not for myself. Big is bad. And then, “Small”. Yes, this was me. I have always been small. Make myself small again. Small is strong, small is good. I need to be small again. I need to be invisible, to lose my ego, to become smaller and smaller, and find my strength there. Ahh, how much of my life has been connected to feeling inadequate, to being short, to being unnoticed, to feeling resentment and fear from that. I am so insecure. I have been my whole time. But no, Big is Bad for me, I am small. And there is something peaceful and wonderful in there for me. Yes. Small.

I didn’t meet my friend for icecream. I simply went downtown and walked around for several hours. I was happy as things mellowed out and I slowly returned to normal. One last experience I did have was sitting on the subway. I closed my eyes, and I saw myself, sitting across from me, and I started to rot and decay. My face was decomposing before my eyes. It was horrible. It wasn’t surreal or mystical, it was brutally realistic, I could see the flesh rotting, I could smell my corpse, see into my body as the holes grew and flesh ripped and fell away. It was pure decay. It was slow though. It wasn’t scary though, I was very calm. I held onto my Cocoon and just felt reassured. And something inside me was happy, I could hear myself saying, oh, something beautiful will come from all this decay, but then a voice deep within me, not my own, said “No.”, and my mind tried again, but death brings about new life, and that voice again rang out, “No.”. My mind kept smiling, I was smiling, eyes closed, watching myself waste away and fall apart, I was happy and smiling, knowing something would come from this, and that voice kept saying “No.”. And then I understood, yes of course, something would come, eventually, but that was not something to be taken lightly. I was too easily jumping ahead, to wanting to see the beauty reemerge from death. And it was showing me, teaching me, that we cannot gloss over death and decay and simply look for the good. We have to accept the bad and death as it happens. It will take a long time. Things will die and we lose them. Do not try and pretend like everything is okay. Do not lose focus and move onto the future. This is here and now, death is real and it takes time. It exists for as long as it has to. It was a powerful lesson. Even though it was terrible to watch and ugly, I still felt warmth and happy during the whole experience.

At the end of everything, as I no longer felt any real effects, I just have this wonderful feeling of peace and happiness. The entire experience was … wonderful. I still smile thinking of how I held onto that Cocoon for the entire day, probably 6 or 7 hours, and never let it go, not for a single moment.

Oh here are the other songs I played throughout the day :) Enjoy!

I feel like I have so much to learn from all of this. I wanted to try and write it, as best as I could, to capture the feelings. I know it’s futile, trying to write down emotions and things which cannot be shared, but I wanted it for my own benefit. I feel lighter now though, I feel more centered and connected. I hope more people have experiences like this. Being open and welcoming and able to see the world is something I think everyone can benefit from. Thank you for reading my bizarre experiences :) I have a lot more to reflect on, and really just feel like hugging people :)

Memories of Verve /  by Peter Panacci

This coffee from Verve was given to me as a gift from Yoshio, a dear friend.

The taste was well balanced, I could get the citrus effects of the grapefruit notes and also the vanilla, rounding off the cup and giving it a warm finish. It was fairly strong, with a good medium body that I enjoyed without it being overpowering.

With this coffee …

We caught up and talked about Yoshio’s trips and traveling.

I made and shared it with Paul, Pinky, Aketang and Taka when they came to visit our apartment and spend time together.

We went to Yugawara for a special useless climbing trip. This was really special since we also invited Marco, Mateo and Benedetta, our friends from Italy. This was the biggest group of Useless out together in a long time and spending time with the spring weather was really magical. I brought all my coffee gear and was just really really happy making coffee for friends. It was also special for me since this was the first place I ever tried outdoor climbing with Aya 2 years ago <3

Video is thanks to Marco <3

Thank you for the memories Yoshio <3

Trick of the Light /  by Peter Panacci

The amazing citrus trees at Yajima farm in Manazuru

Life will give you countless opportunities to learn and grow, often in the midst of turmoil and uncertainty.

We have a wonderful, beautiful and inextinguishable ability to deceive ourselves, to take things for granted, or lose sight of our way. This is often seen as a negative influence in our lives, when we become too busy or hectic to enjoy small pleasures that abound around us. Sometimes though, it is a blessing.

Sometimes when adversity, and hardship, and suffering cripple you with anxiety and fear, this quirk of human nature does something amazing.

Within even the darkest storm and facing even the deepest abyss, some ray of light and beauty shines through and life provides small moments where everything else melts away, erased by just the presence of sunshine, nature and someone you love. We forget the reality that just moments ago seemed so cruel and cannot help but smile and feel grateful.

Even though I feel so lost and am struggling so hard to keep a grip on things, there is still the small comfort that only in being lost, only in being afraid, do we find ourselves, and if we are truly lucky, find where our home really is.


Strength /  by Peter Panacci

Last week Aya shared something very inspiring and beautiful with me. An Italian composer had suffered a strange illness which robbed him of almost all his health, forcing him to be bedridden for 2 years, a terrible neurological disease tore through his nervous system and even to this day, he moves and walks with obvious difficulty and shaking. His hands, the instrument and mouth piece of his art, gliding and dancing across the piano, were rendered completely foreign and unresponsive to him. Strangers deaf to his commands where once they spoke with his voice.

I cannot imagine not only the fear and desperation he must have felt, losing not only his body and health, but also his ability to be who he truly is, someone who creates music. Of course, that spirit and love lived on in his mind, through his passion, and through some miracle (whether its a miracle of science or faith, no one can tell), he was able to slowly recover, slowly build himself back up, to reach the point that Aya showed me, a wonderful awards ceremony and concert where he was honored and told his tale. He played a beautiful, moving and somehow hopeful piece called tomorrow, dedicated to all those who are suffering through unimaginable hardship, to believe and hope for a better tomorrow.

The entire scene and the event was very poetic and the accolades and introductions were glowing.

Something within me though was bothered. Something within me was actually responding with anger and fury.

I could see how much this mans story and struggle meant to Aya, how seeing someone share their vulnerabilities and hardship in the face of such sickness was speaking directly to her. Seeing him rise above the odds and return to the stage, to share, even with trembling hands, the message of hope he composed was incredibly beautiful. I could see that and yet still that thorn pierced into my side.

As I listened to the music, I slowly mulled over what was bothering me. Why was I feeling resentful? What was I reacting to? Was it jealousy? Was it anger that life could pick and choose whose prayers to answer, who to heal and who to ignore? No, it was not that petty or selfish. There was something deeper.

I eventually realized what had launched my discontent and it was a line from the glowing introduction the host had given to the artist. Amidst the applause and reverence, the obvious inspiration from someone who had suffered so much, there was a single line, so often uttered, that had set me off. Paraphrasing, what he said was that here was someone who, despite all the pain and suffering he had endured, despite the uncertainty and fear, this was someone who had never once given up hope.

Never given up hope.

This was what had angered me so.

It sounds so simple, and it is one of the most common pieces of advice that people give when you are suffering or facing some incomprehensible diagnosis. When you are told you have cancer, that they do not know what to do, to get your things in order, to do what you can with the time you have, that’s what people tell you, not to give up hope.

When people offer that advice, I understand what they mean, I understand it comes from a place of love and support. They want you to be able to carry it. They want you not to lose hope and succumb to despair. Our society and culture are filled with images and rhetoric about fighting, defeating, overcoming, waging war on things like cancer. We are taught to attack and take no prisoners. To go out fighting and on our shields. Heroic language for the most debasing and dehumanizing time of your life …

We all understand the impulse, the idea, but the words are so hollow and far from reality that it stings when I hear them. And the real reason is not because other people cannot understand the process you are going through, even as someone supporting a loved one. No, the anger is there because those who haven’t experienced this part of life are missing what real strength is, where the real beauty and courage lie.

No one, no one, no one, goes through a sickness or calamity in life that brings you next to death without losing hope. No one loses a partner or parent or child without losing hope.

Everyone faces moments where you are left sitting alone in an empty room, overcome with grief, fear and desperation. Like a drowning man reaching for anything around you, you’ve lost hope and are just trying to survive. Getting through another day is something that just happens without you even knowing how or why. You are in a state of hopelessness that comes and goes like the tide, dragging you into the ocean.

“Never lose hope” is a flat, 2 dimensional view of the world that puts the weight of everything right on you when you are at your weakest point. Life is robbing you of every possession you have, your world as it is, your future, your time, your dreams and potential. Your grief and sorrow are not things you can actually share with others, they are uniquely your own and you have to carry them through each moment of the day.

You will have ups and downs, moments where you forget how dire things are, where you can almost feel like things are normal. And there will be moments where the fragility of life seeps into every interaction, every word, every breathe, and you are just desperately holding on to each memory you create.

Anyone going through a traumatic part of their life, you need to have the space, the comfort and the support to lose hope. Because you will. You will be robbed of hope.

That is where true strength hides. It is in those moments, when you have to face the reality of life, that you break. But then there is another moment after that. And another. And somehow you find life again. You find love again. You find smiles and laughter and you cherish the touch of friends who come to see you and memories shared and reminisced about. You will regain hope. You will find ways to sustain and continue for as long as you can. That is real strength and beauty.

Through everything we are going through, everything Aya has been dealing with, I keep telling her she is the strongest person I have ever known. She doesn’t believe me, and the reason she doesn’t believe me is because everything is impossibly hard to bear. I have seen her filled with rage, anger, despair, hopelessness and frustration, sometimes all at the same time. I have seen her deal with a medical system that treats patients as a number or statistic, incompetent doctors and nurses who clearly do not care about a patients wellbeing, and complete uncertainty that rushes into your life like a bottomless void that eats away all hope. I’ve seen the crushing weight of a prognosis that offers no hope.

And yet, weeks later, days later, and sometimes even moments later, she finds a way to laugh, to appreciate a ray of sunlight that falls on and warms her face, or delights at a delicious treat of gelato, even when moments before she was railing against the injustice of never being able to eat again. Flowers in bloom, a surprising story told by a friend, clouds that make a sunset truly magical, all of them moments of joy and happiness even at the darkest of times.

Life is impossibly hard. Life will steal your hope. I can guarantee that.

But if you are truly strong, if you are someone like Aya who somehow, no matter what life throws her way, cannot be anything but wonderful and positive and loving; not all the time, not without fail, but again and again, in the face of life’s cruelty, that is something amazing.

I know that I am not that strong. I am holding on and doing whatever I can because I love Aya and she inspires me everyday. Without that side of her, without seeing her smile each and everyday, in spite of the odds, in spite of the injustice, in spite of the constant pain she is suffering, I would never be able to carry any of this.

I think it’s important for people to know, that one day when you face the harshest, darkest time of your life, it will not be pretty nor easy. It will be grueling and ugly and dehumanize you. But that is okay. No one goes through this and remains untouched. No one is above being weak and broken and needing help. Allow yourself to suffer and be vulnerable. That is when you’ll find your own inner strength, and the strength of those who love you, and it will help you to make the most of the time you have.

Fighting, fighting when you have no chance of winning, when everything is stacked against you, fighting even when you’ve lost hope, that’s all you can do. And sometimes in that fight, you give up, but there’s no shame in that. Remember to love yourself, to forgive yourself, and to help those you love as much and as often as you can. We all lose hope. Some of us are strong enough and lucky enough to find it again and some of us are blessed to have loved ones who bring hope back to us.