Reflections - collecting words here...

Unfinished Japanese

Every time I come across a mention of the Japanese language, a sense of guilt swells up. It was a language that defined a significant part of my life in the late nineties and early two-thousands, but I’ve since let it lapse. I haven’t put in the effort to keep it up. Occasionally, I’ll find myself on a sudden “kick” to read or write in Japanese, but I can never sustain it the way I’ve managed with my German.

I can’t quite rationalize this guilt or pinpoint its source. Perhaps it’s the same feeling that arises when I spend too long knitting instead of doing something “productive”—like learning to code or acquiring a monetizable skill. Or perhaps the guilt comes from the timeline: Japanese has been part of my life for over two decades, yet I am content with having passed the N2 exam without striving for more. Still, a nagging feeling persists that I should want more.

Perhaps, however, learning a language isn’t about achieving N2, N1, or reaching the B2 or C2 levels of the CEFR. Maybe what is truly nagging me is the fact that my Japanese studies were once so entangled with the pressure of grad school and scholarship applications. While I was attracted to the literature and culture, the language became a tool to prove my worth to others rather than a space for personal appreciation.

Though I knew the concept of 一期一会 (ichigo-ichie)—the idea of a once-in-a-lifetime encounter—I wasn’t able to apply it. I failed to live in the present or cherish the unique experience of the language itself. My ability was always being evaluated against how it could benefit me, rather than being acknowledged for its own sake.

I see now that it would have been better to be mindful—to study for the process rather than the surrounding benefits. Because my study was always a means to an end, it was done in such a hurried manner that I don’t remember the joy of making connections with words, a joy I feel so clearly now with German and even Italian.

Perhaps, one day, Japanese will become an active part of my life again. If that day comes, I’ll be sure to embrace the process—not for a scholarship or an application, but simply for the love of understanding and the quiet discovery of new things.

January 12, 2026

Japanese, Language Learning, Mindfulness, 一期一会
December’s Stitches

Léttlopi wool and the beginnings of the Douglas Cardi.

December came and went. While I’d promised myself a strong start in Italian, the progress has been—to put it mildly—modest. My LingQ stats show a humble 31 words. I likely know a few more from reading elsewhere, but my pace has been slow, and I’ll admit I haven’t been pushing myself. German, on the other hand, remains a constant; my love for the way it sounds provides all the motivation I need to keep listening and reading every day.

Still, a certain guilt lingers over my neglected Italian studies. That time was largely claimed by a few knitting projects. After finishing a sweater by Kate Davies, I finally cast on Andrea Mowry’s Douglas Cardi. I’ve admired this design since it was published in 2021—there is something about those stripes that just feels happy.

The final spark of inspiration actually came from a crossover of my two worlds. While watching the German YouTuber Joseph DeChangeman (part of my daily immersion practice), I noticed him wearing a colourful cardigan. Although the design was different from the Douglas Cardi, that bold and lumpy sweater feel really spoke to me. It’s rare to find such joyful colorwork in commercial clothing, and I find myself drawn to that unique, handmade feel.

As a result, much of my free time in December was spent knitting the Douglas Cardi. Knitting is inherently peaceful and soothing, yet I found myself unable to justify the time spent on a garment I really don’t need. With only 24 hours in a day, it’s hard not to feel the “opportunity cost” of every row worked.

The saving grace? My knitting time wasn’t entirely lost to language learning. I’ve made it a habit to watch German Netflix series or listen to German podcasts while I work through the rows. It’s a small redemption. Knitting is a wholesome pursuit, but as the year turns, I’m still searching for that perfect balance between the the solace of the stitches and the challenge of a new language.

January 3, 2026

Douglas Cardi, German, Italian, knitting, Language Learning, Léttlopi
November

November has gone by exceptionally fast. It was dominated by a heavy workload, a hurried trip to the Polyglot Conference in Taipei, and the immediate rush back to fulfill life’s essential obligations: childcare and work. If those obligations hadn’t been waiting, I definitely would have stayed longer.

The Taipei trip was exhausting but totally worth it. I met so many language enthusiasts and enjoyed listening to different presentations delivered in a variety of languages. For the first time, I genuinely felt I had found a community where I belonged.

I made an effort to speak as much German as I could. I was so grateful that not a single person gave me the crushing advice to “give it a rest, you’re really not very good at it.” The native German speakers listened to me patiently, and I felt a deep sense of acceptance and encouragement.

All the presentations were excellent, even the few that faced technical difficulties. I might write more about those experiences later.

November 2025 turned out to be one of those months that moved too quickly for deep reflection. I haven’t had much time to write, which is a shame. I wish things could slow down a bit, but I suppose that blend of intense experience and necessary hurry is just life right now. It was a month that gave me a sense of belonging in Taiwan, only to throw me straight back into the isolation of the daily grind.

November 30, 2025

Belonging, German Learning, Language Community, Life Balance, Polyglot Conference
Day 471 of German: Forgetting Myself

It feels like a joke, but a few days ago, on Halloween, I finished Duolingo’s German course. The realization didn’t hit me until a couple of days later on my bus commute when I wondered why I was no longer getting new lessons. A quick check confirmed it: the course was complete, and now I’d only be getting reviews.

This was both disappointing and a relief. The relief comes from not feeling compelled to renew the subscription—my child and I received a year of Super Duolingo as a gift, and my child isn’t keen on language learning. While we’ll still maintain the streak (for reasons I can’t quite articulate, but we will), the pressure is off.

I’m actually not a big fan of the Duolingo learning style—the fill-in-the-blanks and translation drills. While declensions are important, I prefer using materials targeted for native speakers, like watching the Tagesschau or reading Momo, even if I miss a lot of information. I don’t need to understand everything, just as I didn’t understand everything adults said when I was a child.

To maintain the streak, I started Italian because the German reviews felt boring. In doing so, I made a bigger realization: language learning itself is a form of meditation for me.

That feeling of focusing on a new word and absorbing it is like breathing. During the short two-minute lesson, I felt selfless. I was just absorbing those five or six words Duolingo presents. After learning simple terms (Per favore, Grazie, Tè, Caffè, Zucchero), I felt surprisingly content, even though I have no serious intention of learning Italian.

The Active Emptiness
The biggest realization is that I am using language acquisition as a meditative practice. Unlike conventional meditation, which asks the mind to empty itself and passively observe, language learning requires me to actively empty my mind of distraction to be present.

Work fatigue, life responsibilities, and chores instantly vanish. My attention is wholly given to the sound of “tè, per favore” or to understanding why kontrollieren means to control in one German context but to scrutinize in another. It’s an unconventional form of mindfulness, but one that holds deep meaning for me. In that moment, I’m removed from myself and transported to a realm where I am solely focused on understanding something that has nothing to do with my daily obligations.

No, I’m not going to learn Italian seriously—at least not until my German reaches a B2 level. But those quick two-minute lessons show me how precious it is to let the mind be empty and receptive to whatever comes.

November 4, 2025

German Learning, Meditation, Mindfulness, Selfless Absorption
Day 469 of German: The Ordinary Chore of Enlightenment

I finally have two days off work, and absolutely nothing is planned. In fact, one of those days is already nearly over. The weather outside is a bit cold and rainy, but the autumn leaves are beautiful. It’s the perfect atmosphere for catching up on chores, dedicating time to German learning, and simply hanging out with my pet rabbit.

There’s a play date happening in the house right now, and the children are happy. My rabbit is warm and soft. Dinner is cooking in the oven, and in this moment of domestic calm, I read the first eight stanzas of the Diamond Sutra many times.

如是我聞。一時佛在舍衛國祇樹給孤獨園。與大比丘衆千二百五十人倶。爾時世尊食時著衣持缽入舍衛大城乞食。於其城中次第乞已。還至本處飯食訖。收衣缽洗足已敷座而坐。

The translated passage, as described by A. Charles Muller, details the Buddha’s ordinary routine:

“Thus I have heard. Once, the Buddha was staying in the Jetavana Grove in Śrāvastī with a community of 1,250 monks. Then, at mealtime, the World-honored One put on his robe, took his bowl, and went into the great city of Śrāvastī to seek alms food, going from house to house within the city. Finishing, he returned home and took his meal. He then put away his robe and bowl, washed his feet, arranged his seat, and sat down.”

At first, I thought it was cool that the sutra takes the time to describe Gautama Siddhartha—the World-honored One—seeking alms and carrying on his day by doing his own chores. But then I remembered that most major religious texts deliberately mention this quality in their figures to emphasize humility and service.

While I deeply appreciate different Buddhist scriptures, and the Diamond Sutra in particular for its beautiful text, I still struggle with why Gautama Siddhartha is worshipped in temples and Buddhist institutions everywhere.

There are many striking similarities between philosophical existentialism and Buddhism, particularly around concepts like existence, suffering, and the nature of the self. Yet, we don’t worship people like Jean-Paul Sartre or Albert Camus and chant their novels and works the way Buddhists chant mantras.

This contrast between spiritual reverence and intellectual appreciation is something I can’t reconcile.

Today was an ordinary day, and I’m tired. There are still more chores to do. I’m certainly not looking for enlightenment, but a little dose of existentialism mixed with Buddhist philosophy might just provide the framework I need to get things done and stop feeling so crappy.

October 28, 2025

Camus, Diamond Sutra, Existentialism, Sartre, Worship vs Philosophy
Skip the Reviews: The Wisdom of Direct Experience

Day 466 of German (October 26, 2025)

Thanks to my father, I gained an early appreciation for Buddhist concepts like emptiness and impermanence, even before I was a teenager. Although these ideas lacked the backing of real-life experience at the time, they planted enduring seeds that help me process adversity today.

I have always shied away from reading Buddhist scriptures. The only one I seriously studied was the Heart Sutra, and that was only because I was instructed to repeatedly write it out. Even then, the complex transliterations required annotation, and I was too young to genuinely bother finding the meaning.

For years, I felt intimidated by the Diamond Sutra, despite the beauty of its excerpts, assuming it would be too difficult to grasp. I spent a couple of hours recently trying to prepare myself by searching for critical commentaries, only to find that these interpretive works—often written in older, dense Chinese (文言文)—are actually much harder to read than the original Sutra itself.

The Wisdom of Direct Experience
This struggle taught me a vital lesson: what is widely perceived as difficult may not be so in the source material itself.

This parallels the German language. It is widely perceived as harsh and difficult, but others’ opinions on its complexity do not impact my personal appreciation. The perceived difficulty that truly discouraged me from the Diamond Sutra was not the scripture, but the dense, longer body of interpretive work surrounding it.

I realized I have been letting external perceptions influence my own appreciation of things I’m deeply interested in. The Diamond Sutra is not something one can skim, but when I sit patiently and read it word by word, the core text is quite readable with minor annotation.

Similarly, while German is not an easy language, it is still possible to acquire it one word at a time. The necessary difficulty should stem from the practice itself, not from the discouraging “reviews” of others.

October 28, 2025

Direct Experience, External Perception, German Language, Learning Mindset
The Buddha on the Ledge: Between Practice and Philosophy
Day 464 of German

Just a block from my home, on a busy street, is a small, unassuming temple—so discreet one could drive right past it. Across the street is a church that, while understated, is more obviously a religious institution than the temple.

I am fully aware that inner peace is earned through effort, not granted by outside authorities. However, for my own mental health, I find it extremely calming simply to look at the image of the Buddha sitting. Outside this temple, there is a square concrete cauldron, usually with incense burning, and a small green Buddha statue sitting calmly on its ledge. Because the Buddha is outside, I can visit at any time.

The Contradiction of Craving
The act of going to the temple to calm myself, however, highlights a deep contradiction. In East Asia, cultural practice often involves supplicating (asking) Buddhist deities for blessings, prosperity, career success, and protection against adversity. As my father taught me in his explanations of Buddhist scripture, the very act of wanting is a form of delusion and the great cause of pain.

Going to a temple to ask for blessings is thus fundamentally contrary to the core Buddhist teaching of recognizing impermanence and understanding emptiness.

This contradiction brings to mind the Diamond Sutra:

凡所有相，皆是虛妄。若見諸相非相，則見如來

(All things that have characteristics are false and ephemeral. If you see all characteristics to be non-characteristics, then you see the Tathāgata.)¹

As a result, when I offer incense, I rarely know what to say, and certainly don’t ask for conventional success. For now, when I see that little statue, I use it as a reminder: I am not here to ask for blessings or pray for things I have not worked for. The image of the Buddha sitting calmly is a reminder that I need to take the time to understand philosophical Buddhism. Perhaps through that struggle, I can renounce more of the trappings of conventional wants and desires.
1. Section 5, The Diamond Sutra, translated by A. Charles Muller: http://www.acmuller.net/bud-canon/diamond_sutra.html#div-6 ↩︎
October 23, 2025

Buddhism, Cultural Buddhism, Impermanence, Mindfulness, Non Attachment
Antifragile German: Learning from Humiliating Errors

Day 463 of German

In yesterday’s post, my loose quote of Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s ideas bothered me, so I checked Antifragile. While flipping through the book, I found a passage on language learning:

“Another forgotten property of stressors is in language acquisition – I don’t know anyone who ever learned to speak his mother tongue in a textbook… You pick up a language best thanks to situational difficulty, from error to error, when you need to communicate under more or less straining circumstances…” (pp. 61-62).

I can relate to these stressors across all the languages I’ve learned, including my mother tongue. I believe the temper tantrums toddlers go through are partly caused by their inability to verbalize concepts and get what they want.

This type of linguistic stressor—unlike the passive consumption of news—is the kind that makes a person antifragile and actively facilitates growth. This passage resonates because it confirms that one learns through struggle. The necessity of communication under pressure is what truly forces progress.

Making mistakes and being laughed at (or with; though I may not be laughing) can be genuinely unpleasant, but that temporary humiliation must be seen as a source of fuel. If one is serious about language learning, the pain of being corrected is precisely the mechanism for growth. I have always appreciated people for correcting and helping me through situational difficulties.

I know the day will come when I’ll have to endure a barrage of socially uncomfortable and humiliating moments in German. I will do my best to embrace those moments and actively be antifragile.

October 22, 2025

Antifragile, Discomfort, Learning Through Error
The Protective Filter: News and Detachment in a Second Language
I woke up to the news that the Japanese parliament just elected its first female prime minister, Sanae Takaichi (高市早苗). This is a laudable event, one I couldn’t have foreseen when I was a student of Japanese literature and culture in the early 2000s.

Earlier this year, I stopped consuming current events in my strongest languages, Mandarin and English, choosing to eliminate inputs that did not clearly add value or personal growth. As Nassim Taleb states (I believe in Antifragile, though I can’t recall the exact quote)¹, what one chooses not to do is often as crucial as what one chooses to do when managing one’s well-being.

However, I do watch news clips in German and Japanese. Since my Japanese is much stronger than my German, I tend to focus more heavily on the German news. There is something profoundly cool and contradictory about processing news in a second language.

Things that might easily rile me up in my dominant languages seem to lose their sharp emotional edge when expressed in German. I feel almost like a child learning about complex adult issues, trying to figure out why the world is so upset. Conversely, if I am upset about something, trying to express that negative feeling in German immediately makes the emotion feel distant and easier to manage.

This distancing effect brings to mind lines from the Heart Sutra:

不生不滅。不垢不淨。不增不減

是故空中無色。無受想行識

(Roughly: Not created, not destroyed. Not tainted, not pure. Neither increasing nor decreasing. Therefore, in emptiness, there is no form, no feeling, perception, mental formation, or consciousness.)

See Thich Nhat Hanh’s new translation of the Heart Sutra here

While I’m not sure if the concepts are logically related in a Buddhist sense, acquiring information through a non-dominant language allows me to process it without being so tainted by worldly constructs and intense emotion.

I know the news of a female Japanese prime minister would have stirred strong hopeful emotions in me back when I was a student in Japan. But today, processed through the lens of a second language, it feels strangely neutral—a significant event observed, but one that does not claim my emotional energy.
1. This concept is discussed by Nassim Nicholas Taleb in Antifragile: Things That Gain from Disorder, where he argues for the heuristic of avoiding harm (negative inputs, stress, excess information) as the key to well-being, often citing the wisdom of via negativa. See pages 126-127 and pages 360-361. ↩︎
October 21, 2025

Detachment, Heart Sutra, Language Filter, Mindfulness
Evie’s Warmth: Tracing the Yarn’s Origin

I missed a recent farm and studio event hosted by Fibre & Forge, a local sheep farm in Abbotsford, BC. I would have loved to visit the animals and learn about the wool accessories, candles, and yarns they produce.

The farm’s website features photos of their sheep, and on the corresponding page, skeins of naturally undyed yarn are named after the animal the wool came from. I love the concept of tracing the source of the fibre down to the specific sheep.

If I could have attended, I would have certainly picked up a couple of skeins of Evie 2019. I imagine printing out a photo of Evie the sheep to keep alongside the yarn, where each stitch would then carry her warmth.

It is rare in modern life to be able to trace the source of the goods one uses so directly. I’m glad this kind of connection to local production is still possible in my local community.

October 18, 2025

Connection To Source, knitting, Local Production, Mindfulness, Provenance
From Heart Sutra to “How to Sit”: The Tools We Pass Down

I almost always have a digital copy of Thich Nhat Hanh’s How to Sit open on my laptop. It’s part of the Mindfulness Essentials Series—easy to read, with each page presenting a single concept in an accessible manner. I often read a passage at work or during quick breaks to recenter myself.

My child recently saw the title and, missing the metaphor entirely, said, “But you already know how to sit.” I found this adorable. To get a reaction, I looked up another title, How to Smile, and showed it to them with a contorted, fake smile, asking if I should borrow it. The “WTF” look on their face was priceless.

The humor reminded me of my own journey into Buddhist philosophy. At my child’s age, my own father was deeply immersed in Buddhist texts. His way of introducing me to the Dharma was through the Heart Sutra. I had to use a calligraphy brush to copy out the Sutra daily during summer break. This was meant to cultivate mindfulness, but I resented the long, dry process of writing complex traditional Chinese characters.

Eventually, my father took the time to explain the Sutra’s meaning on weekends. The Heart Sutra is a text of immense depth, and while I only glimpsed its full meaning, the core concepts of impermanence and emptiness took root, allowing me to appreciate life’s ephemeral nature—a theme that runs through many of the Japanese literary works I love.

In retrospect, I can’t say I enjoyed my introduction to philosophical Buddhism. Yet, it did fundamentally shape me, giving me the philosophical tools to cope with adversity. I realize I am the most mindful precisely when things are not going right.

My child is being raised in a secular environment, and I won’t force them to copy Buddhist texts. However, I want them to have access to these philosophical tools for the inevitable adversities of life.

Perhaps the simple solution is to have the physical copies of Thich Nhat Hanh’s accessible “How to” books lying around. If not for the philosophical wisdom, perhaps they can at least learn to appreciate the poetic device of the titles.

October 17, 2025

Heart Sutra, Impermanence, Mindfulness, Thich Nhat Hanh
Language Study as a Mental Anchor

These past two days, I was able to dedicate time to going through imported lessons in my LingQ language learning app. I focused on intensive reading by slowly working through the transcript of the video Weltberühmt und depressiv: Sisi, Adenauer & Co. | Terra X History in LingQ.

I also practiced my listening comprehension by simply listening to So will die EU bei Whatsapp mitlesen: Chatkontrolle erklärt without looking at the screen or the closed captioning. I estimate I understood about 50% of the content, which is encouraging. To grasp what I missed, I still need to import the video into LingQ for a full review.

My mind is currently preoccupied with delusional worries that I know rationally to abandon, but which I unfortunately lack the wisdom and clarity to dismiss. Learning to simply sit still and stay with my thoughts without letting them take control is a profoundly difficult practice.

Funnily enough, studying German has become a way to exert control over my own mind. The act of reading, focusing on one word at a time, sounding out every syllable, and appreciating the language forces my concentration onto that single, productive task. It becomes a reliable anchor for my mind.

October 15, 2025

Discipline, German, Mental Anchor, Mindfulness, Volition
時知らず: The Quiet Grace of Unseasonal Bloom

Many years ago, a Japanese seafood aficionado taught me about Tokishirazu Sake (時知らず鮭). Literally meaning “salmon not knowing the season,” this fish is highly sought after in Hokkaido because it returns to its spawning river in the wrong season—spring instead of autumn.

Unlike autumn salmon, the flesh of the Tokishirazu is highly prized by connoisseurs for being rich and full of delicious fat. Though I’m not a seafood enthusiast and can’t recall the price, I have always found the phrase Tokishirazu (時知らず） beautiful.

The point of this post, however, is not salmon, but my Clematis montana ‘Elizabeth’. This vine normally flowers only in late spring, but this autumn, it is blossoming again. It’s a handful of flowers scattered across the vines that are currently wrapping around the stair railing. I have been meaning to cut it back, but my laziness has prevailed, and online literature suggests against pruning this variety anyway, as it blooms on old wood.

時知らず Clematis montana ’Elizabeth’ blooming out of season in autumn

I’ve grown tired of gardening. Over the past five years, I tried to cultivate various colourful clematis varieties in the same spot, aiming for continuous bloom from spring to autumn. Most of those efforts failed due to mislabeling or the plants simply not surviving. Only the unruly ‘Elizabeth’ variety remains, with its relatively short two-to-three-week blooming period.

Yet, these unexpected, Tokishirazu blossoms are giving me second thoughts about cutting the vine back. While I no longer appreciate the plant with the enthusiasm of its first bloom, this quiet, unseasonal persistence compels a different reaction. When the time comes to prune, I think I will be gentle.

October 14, 2025

Mindfulness, Minimalist Growth, Persistence, 時知らず
The Peaceful Discipline of Neglect

I used to be intensely focused on gardening and caring for plants, acquiring numerous houseplants during the pandemic. I was excited to watch new leaves unfurl, built shelves, installed plant lights, and observed their movement toward the sun. Over time, through life events, sickness, and new interests, my intense focus faded. I also began questioning the wisdom of keeping tropical plants indoors in temperate climates. While I maintained minimal care, many of the plants quietly died—and I was, frankly, relieved. Of eight types of peperomia I once owned, only one survived, and only because I gave it away.

Yet, many of my plants survived my neglect and seem to thrive despite it. Many of these are trailing varieties that have stretched themselves over meters. They grow silently across the room and often droop down into inconvenient spots, forcing me to pin their extending leaves to the wall or ceiling.

Watering the plants has become a chore; I no longer do it with enthusiasm, counting every new leaf or observing fresh growth. Repotting and rerooting are burdens now. But as I watch the greens quietly stretch and claim space across the room, I can’t help but admire that peaceful spirit of growth.

I change, my interests change, but the plants continue their slow, quiet, and minimalist growth—a quiet discipline that merely requires basic sustenance to persevere.

October 13, 2025

Discipline, Mindfulness, Minimalist Growth, Persistence
A Page of Peace: Dharma Through German

Day 452 of German

Today is another workday, which means I have to be disciplined to fit German study into a tight schedule. When pressed for time, I usually limit myself to reviewing Tagesschau or completing a couple of lessons in LingQ (my subscription language learning software). Naturally, this meant I wasn’t able to dedicate time to reading Momo (my intensive reading exercise) today.

I am continuing to read Thich Nhat Hanh’s How to Dream. I found this book serendipitously in a bookshop on Granville Island last Sunday afternoon. I’ve deliberately limited myself to reading only a page a day, hoping to stretch the enjoyment out for approximately 100 days (the book has 116 pages, many of which include illustrations).

It may seem strange, but being able to read and listen to a language proficiently is a personal dream of mine. It feels both nice and appropriate to pursue this language acquisition journey with the guidance of the Dharma.

Though I was raised in a Buddhist country, I often found traditional Dharma texts dry and inaccessible. I deeply appreciate Thich Nhat Hanh’s writing; it is easy to read, understandable, and brings a genuine smile to my face. I’m happy to have this accessible Dharma text accompanying my daily efforts to acquire German.

October 11, 2025

German, Mindfulness, Motivation, Thich Nhat Hanh, Volition
Just Listening

My child was quiet. From my perspective on the top bunk, I saw the headphones and assumed they were plugged into an iPad. I asked, “What are you watching?”

Raising a portable CD player we bought years ago at a yard sale for 25 cents, they answered, “I’m just listening to music.”

How cool is that?

I should try that. The pure act of just listening to music.

No doing the dishes. No putting laundry away. No planning or thinking. Just sitting, being present, and listening. Nothing else.

October 9, 2025

Daily Life, Focus, Mindfulness, Presence, Simplicity
The Last Emperor’s Music and the Weight of Time

Day 449 of German

Sakamoto Ryuichi passed away in March 2023. A new documentary detailing the last three years of his life, post-cancer diagnosis, is set for release in late November, featuring excerpts from his personal diary. I can’t wait to see it.

My relationship with his music spans decades. As a child, I saw Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence without my parents knowing; I was too young for the film, but I loved the music and the performances. Later, I heard his score in The Last Emperor—the film bored me as a pre-teen, but the music was mesmerizing.

I remember watching his television interviews while living in Japan in my early twenties during the early 2000s. He was a handsome, middle-aged man who emanated an undeniable confidence in the press and on television.

Now, watching the preview of his last years, I see Sakamoto continued to create music even after his cancer diagnosis. Knowing this musician since my childhood, only to be reminded of his death now that I am middle-aged, is a stark reminder of the passing of time and the finitude of life.

I wish I had perceived this finitude more clearly when I was in my twenties in Japan; I feel I truly wasted my time there. Yet, as Sakamoto’s diary states: 「過去を後悔しても何も変わらない」 (Regretting the past changes nothing).

All I can do now is treasure my remaining time, improve the languages I love, and use them to experience the world.

October 8, 2025

Finitude, Sakamoto Ryuichi, Time
The Flügel Moment

Day 447 of German

The word “Flügel” came up in my daily viewing of Tagesschau 20:00 Uhr. I consume the news almost exclusively through this broadcast because I want to eventually understand the version of German most widely used in German-speaking countries.

My language study method is probably considered lazy by many. I consume substantial amounts of content, but I rarely look up every word or dedicate time to memorizing grammar or vocabulary lists. I don’t use spaced repetition systems like Anki and sometimes feel guilty for not being more disciplined or deliberate.

The word “Flügel” has probably appeared many times over the past year but never truly stuck. Yesterday, I instantly recalled the word while watching the news. My memory was triggered by a quick association: I remembered an old online quiz from the Goethe Institute’s Threads feed which asked what German word meant both “wings of a bird” and “piano.”

The Tagesschau clip, about a man whose piano company was purchasing pianos (Flügel), made the connection click. My brain worked hard and, within a three-second pause of the broadcast, I confirmed the double meaning.

That small moment of recognition brought intense happiness. I felt a surge of joy knowing that I had finally absorbed the word into my long-term memory just by consistently exposing myself to the language. I feel this happiness very strongly because German is my fourth language studied seriously. I suspect I never experienced this kind of joy when learning my first, second, or third languages, either because they were learned under greater pressure (school/scholarship applications) or because I was simply too young to pause and reflect on the process of acquisition itself.

October 7, 2025

Flügel, Immersion, Joy Of Learning, Tagesschau, Word Acquisition
Der Anfang (The Beginning)

Day 446 of German

It was never my intention to learn German. I actually set out to study French—a far more useful language here in Canada. Not only is it an official language, but the legacy of the French empire ensures its utility across the globe.

My elementary school-aged child was learning French in school and didn’t enjoy the process. I encouraged him by trying to learn alongside him. We downloaded Duolingo and went through a few lessons, but the French language just never clicked for either of us. My child eventually switched to Spanish.

For fun, however, I turned on German in Duolingo, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. The initial spark came from Duolingo, but my obsession quickly led me to abandon the app for deeper study platforms.

I’ve always loved the way German sounds—for the exact reason many people dislike it. It’s a consonant-heavy language, and while much content online jokes about its perceived “harshness,” I can’t rationally explain why I’m drawn to it. It’s so different from the languages I already know, but every time I hear it, I feel an instant pull; I just want to listen more.

There is truly no good reason for me to learn German, especially at my age. Can one have a crush on a language, much like being infatuated with a person? Perhaps my German language learning is just an infatuation. But so far, that infatuation has lasted 446 days.

October 5, 2025

Deutsch, German, Language Infatuation