This morning, I woke up to the sound of the delivery bell. After a long night shift, I was still half-asleep, but the IKEA truck had arrived. I jumped out of bed and ran to the door—instinctively, almost like a reflex. It’s funny how even at fifty-four, I still move like a younger version of myself sometimes.
But the moment I jumped, I felt a sharp twist in my shoulder. That’s when I thought—yeah, I’m not twenty anymore. At this age, you have to negotiate with your body before you move. Still, even that small pain reminded me how people in physical professions—soldiers, workers—endure much worse. A tiny discomfort can awaken real empathy.
This time I ordered a bed frame, slats, and a mattress. It made me think—structure matters, both in furniture and in life. If the frame is weak, even the best mattress won’t feel right. People are like that too: no matter how decorated, without a strong foundation we collapse. Tomorrow is my assembly day, and that will probably take most of my day off.
After I moved the boxes, I went back to bed for a bit, listening to a podcast on Spotify. Unlike YouTube, where you have to keep your eyes on the screen, podcasts let you feel the world through sound alone. It’s less about information, more about atmosphere. Lately, I’ve been listening to BBC and economic news shows—just to stay connected with the world.
One of the stories I heard today was about Japan’s first female prime minister. Many focus on the word “first,” but to me, that’s not the point anymore. In most parts of the world, female leadership is already normal. What matters is what she stands for—what she actually does. I completely disagree with her ideology, yet I still want her to succeed. Because it’s in the tension of disagreement that society truly evolves.
We can’t live in a world that’s too peaceful or too perfect. It’s the friction that gives our existence shape. So I almost welcome the era of intellectual conflict—she pushes Japan in one direction, and I think against it. That dynamic keeps the mind alive. Maybe what we really need in life is a healthy dose of disagreement.
Anyway, back to my small world. After moving the furniture, I did my usual yoga session—my way of resetting body and mind. For me, yoga isn’t just exercise; it’s a ritual to return to neutrality. To calm the mind through movement, and find motion within stillness. That’s how my mornings begin.
After yoga, I had breakfast while watching a documentary about early 20th-century Shanghai. It was a city where the world collided—Japan, Britain, France, America, China. Wealth and poverty, power and rebellion, all swirling together. There’s something irresistible about that chaos. It was a city alive with human contradictions—desire and ideal, clashing endlessly. If I could travel through time, I’d probably choose to live there.
In that film, there were scenes of the Japanese Imperial Army. Watching them, I realized—it’s not the era that corrupts people, it’s people who corrupt the era. Every nation, every group, repeats the same mistakes. The Japanese army took it to terrifying extremes, yes, but power itself tempts everyone, everywhere. To understand that is to understand history.
Looking back, my morning felt like a miniature universe. Preparing to assemble furniture, I somehow ended up reflecting on politics, history, and my own body. Furniture, news, yoga, memory— everything connects. Sometimes, the whole world hides inside a single morning.
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