Zen and Ink Journals by Kirk Lee

Field Notes

How to Live a Meaningful Life in a Day

Spend a portion of time in childhood-some part of your day in wonder, curiosity and play

Spend a portion of the day in work or doing something productive or meaningful contribution

Spend a portion of the day in solitude

Spend a portion of the day in connection or community

Spend a portion of the day in retirement and reflection on how you lived a meaningful day

I always enjoy hearing reflections from readers, so feel free to share your thoughts in the comments

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Zen and Ink Journals represents hundreds of hours of writing over the past decade — sometimes from a train in remote China, a coffee shop in Kyoto, a hammock in Costa Rica, or a small cabin on a mountaintop in Boquete, Panama, Ciudad Colón, or Cusco, Peru.

On these pages, I share quiet observations of kindness and beauty gathered from my travels — simple moments that remind us of what really matters. My hope is that these reflections inspire you to pause, breathe, and listen for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you’d like to support this work, please consider becoming a regular subscriber — perhaps by foregoing the cost of a single cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) — and join me in continuing the journey.

Zen and Ink Website

Available for iOS and Android

A Cup of Zen | Five Years Later

Kirk Lee — Sun, 15 Mar 2026 11:03:08 GMT

Almost five years ago, I penned an essay called Heart of an Explorer while sitting in a small shack along the Guanacaste coast of Costa Rica. I can still remember the pounding rain beating against the metal roof and the ants surrounding me in attack formation as I sat on the floor.

Zen and Ink Journals had not yet been born, as the journey ahead would have been unimaginable and completely overwhelming. I could never have predicted then that this would be the beginning of a five-year adventure — across five countries, through different languages, cultures, and ways of living.

When I first began Zen and Ink Journals, it was a travelogue — a living notebook of my unfolding journey. Each post was a window into observations and moments of stillness in Kyoto, sunrise mountaintop mornings in Panama, the energy of Cusco, and the lush solitude of Costa Rica.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

Over time, it became more than travel writing; it became a chronicle of the landscape of the inner journey.

The world today is moving faster than ever, spinning with noise, distraction, and what increasingly seems to be self-destruction. The cobblestone streets I once wandered in Kyoto are now overrun with tourists. The empty stretch of beach I walked alone every morning in Costa Rica has now been Americanized and taken over with $400-per-night Airbnbs. Boquete has now become unaffordable for the average nomad or expat seeking what once made it a quiet and desirable destination.

In reflection, what I once perceived as an outer journey across continents has gradually revealed itself to be a mirror for a much more significant inner journey — a quiet exploration of the soul toward a way of living with simplicity, stillness, and authenticity.

Zen and Ink Journals

These past five years have passed by like a fast-moving train. In these writings I have captured postcard moments gone by, never to be returned to again.

Even the most casual observer today might notice that the world is coming apart at the seams. Most days, even a quick glance at the general headlines is an overwhelming assault on our sensibilities and our basic human nature. Amidst collective societal meltdown on a global scale, it often feels as if our daily lives are a desperate and futile attempt at rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

In today’s world, to hold to the ideal of the art of living simply — just being — has become almost rebellious and completely foreign and unrelateable for most who are lost in the matrix. As I reflect on this, I find that amidst the current state of the world grows within an even deeper resolve to living this other way of life. There is no desire to go back and catch a fast-moving train that is rapidly going the other direction with no foreseeable stops ahead.

This time now feels like a season to return — not to a destination, but to a way of writing and reflection that is not based on external travels but quiet observations and insights on what these travels have taught and continue to inform me about simple ways of living and being in the world.

During this quieter season I have continued writing.

Here are two recent essays published with International Living while living in Peru.

Living Well in Peru

Renting in Peru

Synchronistically, I recently came across this theme which found me at the right moment in Pico Iyer’s book The Half Known Life, which I recently began. I first discovered Pico Iyer while living in Kyoto reading The Lady and the Monk. Living in my tiny Japanese house for a year, I always imagined my story would end like his. Five years and four countries later I am far across the world from Kyoto, and yet the theme of his new book seemed to capture exactly where I fine myself on the other side of the planet.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

“After years of travel, I’d begun to wonder what kind of paradise can ever be found in a world of unceasing conflict—and whether the very search for it might not simply aggravate our differences.”

― Pico Iyer, The Half Known Life: In Search of Paradise

And so for about a year now, I have wrestled with the question of how one continues meditative and contemplative writing, much less about travel, when they have settled in one of the most populated and overwhelming cities on the planet. No less comforting is the observation of societal structures around the world progressively collapsing. This past year I have swam relentlessly upstream to create a Zen oasis in the most paradoxically unlikely of places: Lima, Peru.

But then it came to me, and Pico Iyer’s book confirmed this universal theme in the unseen world, that this is where the truly meaningful and transformational insights could begin.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

“A true paradise has meaning only after one has outgrown all notions of perfection and taken the measure of the fallen world.”

As my wise and loving partner said to me in her own soft-spoken words one day,

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

“Many people can become spiritual and enlightened while living on a mountain and surrounded by nature, but to do it here in a place like this is where one really becomes a truly enlightened, spiritual person.”

This struck me with the piercing insight of a Zen Master sitting silently in his temple back in Kyoto. It is here in this of all places for the past almost two years that I have learned patience, compassion, silence amidst the daily chaos, noise and traffic. It has been like going to the gym each morning to develop muscles by placing them under their greatest strain and resistance.

And so I am inspired to write about that.

That’s why I’m turning the page and beginning a new chapter — one that invites you to slow down along with me for a single, mindful moment with each article. Hopefully, sharing small, simple insights that are universal and applicable anywhere in the world.

A Cup of Zen.

Like the tea ceremony itself, each Cup of Zen is an invitation to pause — a single, quiet moment of simplicity amidst the rapidly changing modern world.

The Path Ahead

The wonderful thing about travels and living in many different cultures is the way the lessons deepen over time — how reflections surface years later, revealing how these sojourns shape and transform us. There are also great lessons in the art of living simply, if one is paying attention.

For the past several years, Zen and Ink Journals has been a travelogue of my five-year journey — both external and internal — where I’ve shared stories from my travels as well as personal insights and reflections on the art of living simply and the beauty of different cultures. Many of you have been with me through different seasons — Costa Rica, Japan, Panama, Peru, China.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published


             if some one asks
              my home
              I reply
              the east edge 
              of the Milky Way

              -Ryokan

In Japan, while studying the art of tea ceremony, one of the most valuable lessons I learned was in the philosophy behind a single cup of tea: ichi-go ichi-e (一期一会) — “one moment, one encounter.” Rooted in Japanese Zen, it reminds us to step out of the busy world and fully inhabit this single, fleeting moment — because it will never come again.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

Moving forward, with each article, I’ll pour a Cup of Zen — a story, a travel reflection, perhaps an insight — offering one moment, one encounter.  Like a cup of tea, this is a quiet invitation to pause, reflect, and find a moment of stillness together amidst the rush of modern life.  

Until next time.

I always enjoy hearing reflections from readers, so feel free to share your thoughts in the comments

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Zen and Ink Website

Available for iOS and Android

Silence and Solitude

Kirk Lee — Sun, 24 Aug 2025 10:01:30 GMT

There was a particular rhythm of silence and solitude that could only be discovered along a completely deserted coastline in Costa Rica with nothing but the sound of rain endlessly pouring down on my metal roof for companionship.

The words flowed effortlessly onto the pages of my weathered journal…

This morning I woke naturally at 5am as the light was already beginning to make its way through my window. Shortly after my morning walk along the shore I could begin to hear the gentle trickling of rain outside, then followed by a long, meditative stretch of heavily pounding showers on my metal roof to awaken the morning. There is no need for an alarm here. Nature herself simply woke me in accordance with my own natural rhythm.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

Silence is not a practice exclusive to monks living alone high up in the mountains; Silence is our true nature and it is an anchor to discover and return to in the world in which we are now living.

It was the most effortless thing in the world for me to get up, place my pillow onto the hard floor in my tiny room, and sit in silent meditation. The ants seemed to join me. For many months prior to leaving Austin, I began to observe that my meditation practice all but fell apart, largely due to the level of stress I felt in my environment, the chaotic pace of daily life, busyness and consumption in America. I became quickly aware that my daily meditation practice had gotten out of sync. On this first attempt in Costa Rica, I could not even make it for thirty minutes.

Meditation or sitting is like any practice. It just takes time to get back into alignment.

This is why it is called a practice.

The morning sitting was followed by my first cup of Costa Rica coffee. After living in Kyoto for a year, this simple routine of making my freshly ground pour-over coffee became my morning mindfulness practice. My first cup turned out perfectly. At the market I had picked up what I misread to be cream the first day I was here. It turned out to be vanilla iced coffee. Likely some sugar in there. In any case, it was fantastic. I sat out on my porch amidst the tropical foliage and the gentle breeze and quietly sipped my coffee.

This was also a form of meditation.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

Anything done with complete focus of the mind on nothing else can be a form of meditation.

The early morning rising already suits me well. Without my phone or being tied to a fixed schedule of any kind, the morning seems to be a rich, unfolding experience. So much seems to get accomplished and yet time here seems infinite.

After what seems to be half a day, I discover it is only 10am. This is Costa Rica time, Tico time as they call it. There is nothing hurried, no need to rush.

I took my morning walk on the beach. It was pure, majestic nature. Magic. There seemed to be very few people along this tranquil stretch of coastline in Guanacaste, especially as it is now coming into the low season, the rainy season. I did some exercises along the beach. My body and breathing seemed to effortlessly take on the flowing movement of the ocean and the gentle rhythm of the clouds. Internally, everything slows down.

I am mindfully adapting to this new rhythm, the rhythm of Costa Rica.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

“You will always find an answer
   in the sound of water.”
                 
  -Chuang Tzu

And now, I’m sharing it with others who may also be searching for a rhythm of silence and stillness in their own lives.

Introducing Silence — The Art of Stillness Course

🕊️ Final Week for Early Bird Price: $49

Designed for those seeking a slower, simpler way of life. In this course, you will explore the power of silence, meditation, and calmness to overcome the chaos of modern life. Discover the beauty of stillness and unlock the path to a peaceful mind.

Enroll Now

This five-week course is the first in a year-long series I’m calling A Mindful Year. But it also stands alone — a foundational return to silence.

This isn’t about withdrawing from life. It’s about reconnecting with what’s most essential and real, beneath all of the noise. Through simple practices, daily rituals, and moments of quiet, this course invites you to slow down for just a moment and return to your own center.

In this course, you’ll receive:

5 weekly audio modules
A downloadable journal, weekly checklists & reflection sheets
Invitations to Sunday Evening Zen and Community
Lifetime access

Silence is the first monthly module that will be offered as part of a full Mindful Year Course. Each individual module can be taken as a stand along course or one can enroll in the year-long course and community for a single discounted price.

REPLY to this email for details and early enrollment in the Mindful Year Course.

In advance of the public launch of the course, I am offering and Early Bird Price of $49 to readers for the full course for the remainder of August.

🕊️ Early Bird Price: $49 - Available Now
🎯 Full Launch: August 31 — Price increases to $99

I look forward to connecting together in the silence.

Let this be your invitation —
Not to more, but to less.
Not to speed, but to stillness.
Not to improve, but to listen.

Enroll Today

Field Notes

“They both listened silently to the water, which to them was not just water, but the voice of life, the voice of being, the voice of perpetual becoming.”

Hermann Hesse

Siddhartha

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

Zen and Ink Journals represents hundreds of hours of writing over the past decade, sometimes from a train in remote China or a coffee shop in Kyoto, a hammock in Costa Rica or a simple cabin on a mountaintop in Boquete, Panama , Ciudad Colón or Cusco, Peru.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants.”

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

Discovering Silence

Kirk Lee — Sun, 17 Aug 2025 10:02:34 GMT

I can still recall the scent of hinoki wood and the smooth feel of finely crafted Japanese paper as I wrote in my journal some five years ago.

There is a way of being I have discovered and have been cultivating within myself during this sacred time in Kyoto.

It is slow.
It is mindful.
It is deep and deliberate.
It is in harmony with the Tao.

It is like gentle flowing — almost still — water, amidst the rapid current I have been deeply conditioned to in modern culture, and much of the world seems to be floating down its rapids.

This was why I chose to come to the “old Japan” still found in Kyoto. It can only be felt in a city that has stood for 1,300 years.

The Way

In Japanese, this way of being is called a dō — the “way.”

The way cannot be rushed. It must be patiently cultivated.

It is in the simplicity and quietness of my old, traditional Japanese house.
It is in the Tao of Tai Chi, which I was fortunate to study under a master teacher in Kyoto.
It is in the Zen and solitude of the city’s 1600 temples and gardens.

Since arriving in Japan, I have discovered it in the mindful practice of tea (Chadō — “the way of tea”).
I have found its presence in the universal flow of Aikido (“the martial art of harmonizing with universal energy”), in the art and way of calligraphy (Shodō), and in my own daily writing practice.

It is also in the stripping away of all that is non-essential.

Slow Cultivation

This way of being takes time, patience, and slow deliberate daily actions to cultivate on the deepest level.

In my Western upbringing and impatience, I have often been very anxious to get “there.” The way reminds us that there is no “there” to get to.

Perhaps that’s why my Japanese friend has been studying calligraphy since she was four years old — and is still improving after years of countless hours of practice.

The Principle of Ma (間)

In Japanese culture, there is a principle I have become increasingly drawn to: Ma (間).
It can be translated as “the pause” or “the emptiness in between.”

Silent, empty space.

It permeates much of Japanese life, aesthetics, art, and culture.
It is why Japanese people are comfortable with long silences in conversation.
It can be thought of as the space between the notes that make music beautiful.

It is in the act of stepping away from the outside world into a tea house in the middle of the day.

This is completely contrary to the American way of filling every space in our schedules, our homes, and our conversations.

Finding Still Water

This way of Ma is as though I had found a gentle stream after hiking for years over desert and rocks.

It has become increasingly difficult for me to remain in the fast current of the Western mindset. The principle of Ma has allowed me to find clarity in stillness.

When I allow this space, the way quietly begins to flow through.

In retrospect, my decision to move to Japan for a year became a living metaphor for Ma — taking a year of space between chapters of my life to allow “the way” to emerge from the emptiness.

I have not returned to live in America in the five years since Kyoto.

It is this experience of silence — this space of stillness — that my new course offers to those who hear its whisper.

Introducing: Silence — The Art of Stillness Course

This five-week course is the first in a year-long series I’m calling A Mindful Year. But it also stands alone — a foundational return to silence.

In this course, you’ll receive:

5 weekly audio modules
A downloadable journal, weekly checklists & reflection sheets
Invitations to Sunday Evening Zen and Community
Lifetime access

REPLY to this email for details and early enrollment in the Mindful Year Course.

In advance of the public launch of the course on August 31, I am offering and Early Bird Price of $49 to readers for the full course for the remainder of August.

🕊️ Early Bird Price: $49 - Available Now
🎯 Full Launch: August 31 — Price increases to $99

I look forward to connecting together in the silence.

Let this be your invitation —
Not to more, but to less.
Not to speed, but to stillness.
Not to improve, but to listen.

REPLY to this email to confirm your Early Bird Price for $49

Enroll Today

Field Notes

I know the secret of silence …

If we agitated souls were to understand

the importance of silence,

then half the troubles of the world would be solved…

Mohandas K. Gandhi

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants.”

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

Silence: The Art of Stillness

Kirk Lee — Sun, 10 Aug 2025 10:02:35 GMT

Silence sometimes emerges unexpectedly from the most unlikely of places.

Lima, Peru is a densely populated urban jungle — a city of millions of people, all speaking rapid-fire Spanish, with traffic more chaotic than anything I have ever experienced elsewhere in the world. And yet, now in my second year of living here, I have paradoxically returned to the stillness and solitude of silence — the same silence I first discovered five years ago along the quiet, cobblestone streets of Kyoto, Japan.

Perhaps the true riches of silence can only be uncovered in contrast to its opposite, just as a perfect diamond of priceless beauty can only be mined and carved out of the hard black coal.

As the greater world becomes increasingly chaotic at an unprecedented pace— and clearly more insane — I’ve found myself quietly called once again to return to the silence.

A quote from Alan Watts in The Way of Zen comes to mind:

"Just as muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone,
it could be argued that those who sit quietly and do nothing
are making one of the best possible contributions to a world in turmoil."

Over the past five years, I have lived in five very different countries for extended periods of time — from one to three years each. Along the way, a quiet, simple and authentic way of navigating through the world began to reveal itself. Not a method, not a philosophy — just a simple rhythm that emerged slowly as I adapted to unfamiliar cultures and languages and carved out time and space to simply be quiet and listen.

A small collection of daily practices — deeply rooted and many times absolutely essential for survival — began to take shape. They became the scaffolding for a simpler, more authentic way of living amidst the ever-changing tide. And they have held firm, stood the test of time and location, no matter where I was in the world or where I found myself financially or emotionally.

At the heart of them all is silence.

"I know the secret of silence … If we agitated souls were to understand the importance of silence, then half the troubles of the world will be solved."
Mahatman Gandhi

Silence first quietly whispered to me among the Zen temples and gardens of Kyoto, Japan, perhaps the most obvious place one might expect to find quietude in today’s modern world. Later, it resurfaced during a long, slow rainy season of solitude living along the Pacific coast of Costa Rica.

Still further down the path of exploration, there was no way of escaping silence while living alone in a small wooden cabin on a mountaintop in Boquete, Panama, surrounded by my indigenous neighbors and only the sound of their songs echoing through the valley as they washed laundry against river stones.

Most recently and quite unexpectedly, I have returned to silence even more deeply — amidst the noise and vastness of endless apartment buildings and car horns in Lima, Peru.

Across the globe in each of these completely different cultures and landscapes, silence has gradually become my survival anchor.

In retrospect, what has slowly been making its way to the surface over the past five years, since the first initial seed was planted in my mind, is a quiet invitation — an offering to others, not a teaching — but a path of practice and transformation through cultivation of a ritual. Not my creation, only my life-changing discovery.

And now, I’m sharing it with others who may also be searching for a space of stillness in their own lives.

Introducing: Silence — The Art of Stillness Course

This five-week course is the first in a year-long series I’m calling A Mindful Year. But it also stands alone — a foundational return to silence.

In this course, you’ll receive:

5 weekly audio modules
A downloadable journal, weekly checklists & reflection sheets
Invitations to Sunday Evening Zen and Community
Lifetime access

REPLY to this email for details and early enrollment in the Mindful Year Course.

In advance of the public launch of the course on August 31, I am offering and Early Bird Price of $49 to readers for the full course for the remainder of August.

🕊️ Early Bird Price: $49 - Available Now
🎯 Full Launch: August 31 — Price increases to $99

I look forward to connecting together in the silence.

Let this be your invitation —
Not to more, but to less.
Not to speed, but to stillness.
Not to improve, but to listen.

REPLY to this email to confirm your Early Bird Price for $49

Enroll Today

Field Notes

When a man knows

the solitude of silence,

and feels the joy

of quietness,

he is then free.

Buddha

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants.”

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

A Change of Seasons

Kirk Lee — Sun, 04 May 2025 10:02:23 GMT

Perhaps there is no greater metaphor for life in South America—and its stark contrast to the rest of the world—than the opposite of its seasons compared to most other countries.

This morning, while sitting in the dusty backseat of an Uber during peak Lima traffic on my way to Spanish class at the university, I felt the crisp, cold, moist air sweep over me and sink into my bones. It had never occurred to me to grab a jacket in April.

As we sat motionless for what seemed like endless time amidst a tangled cluster of cars, it felt like being caught in a rugby scrum. I noticed the sky was gray and damp, and weary-looking people were already wearing coats and vests. I, on the other hand, was dressed in one of the same tired old T-shirts I had worn all summer during the dry South American heat. In Peru, summer runs from December through May. There are not four seasons—only six months of hot, dry weather and six months of damp winter.

As I sat in the car, I reflected on my experiences over the past year, living for three months in Cusco and four months in Barranco, the artistic, bohemian neighborhood of Lima. It was quite disorienting for my system to feel the cold, wet weather setting in while friends around the world were kicking off their summer activities and travels.

There must be a circadian rhythm deeply ingrained in my DNA from having lived most of my life in a completely different seasonal pattern. Although my great-great-grandparents came from Norway, it would be unimaginable for me to endure months of sub-zero temperatures and near-total darkness without even a glimpse of the sun.

Winter in Peru is the closest I’ve ever come to that kind of experience, especially with the seasonal garúa, a winter fog that blankets the Lima coastline for weeks at a time. There is a prolonged absence of sunlight.

I remember my time living in Cusco, where many of the old buildings are made of concrete, often appearing unfinished, with no insulation and open or missing windows. There were nights I slept shivering beneath seven blankets, my feet still freezing inside a pair of alpaca socks.

This morning it struck me that winter will soon arrive—sometime in late May. While my friends in America are welcoming summer with Memorial Day weekend, it will be time in Peru to unpack the alpaca sweaters and long johns.

This contrast paints a vivid metaphor for two vastly different worlds—differences too numerous to count, in customs, daily life, perspectives, language, and soon, the weather.

The growth and transformation in oneself comes from continually shedding old, conditioned ways of seeing, thinking, being, and encountering the world and other people.

This is the true adventure—and the journey.

Field Notes

“It takes an intrepid spirit to leave the comfortable and familiar and travel into the unknown, but as any seasoned world traveler knows, the moments of hassle and discomfort are worth it. You will return from this outer sojourn and inner journey as a better and more worldly person. You will become infinitely more cosmopolitan because you will connect not just to the people you might meet in places like Istanbul or Delhi, but to all people everywhere as you venture into shared inner domain. This inner journey may take you temporarily out of the comfort zone of your familiar home, but it will eventually deliver you to your true home in the center of yourself.”

-Andrew Holocek

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants.”

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

A Tiny Apartment

Kirk Lee — Sun, 06 Apr 2025 10:02:24 GMT

My tiny apartment is located on the top floor of an old yet well-maintained building at the corner of Ghiberti and DaVinci streets. Ghiberti was named after the Italian Renaissance sculptor, Lorenzo Ghiberti, and DaVinci after none other than Leonardo Da Vinci. A couple of blocks over is Rodin street and then Kandinsky.

It has been unwaveringly fixed here in the working-class neighborhood of Surquillo for more years than I have been alive. Surquillo is one of the safer barrios in Lima, a city with a population of 11 million people. It borders Miraflores, Surco, and San Isidro, which are considered the most affluent barrios of Lima.

My humble building has five floors. There is a sense of security, having to navigate three different securely locked doors—from the front entrance to the third and fifth floor doors—before ever reaching my apartment. An intruder would have to go through many doors and people before ever getting to me.

The perimeter is also surrounded by live electrical wire along a ten-foot brick wall encircling the property. This seems to be the norm in Peru, yet I have always felt quite peaceful and safe in this neighborhood.

In my building, there are two older ladies, Carmen and her sister. Carmen is thin and frail, while the other sister is, well, let’s just say she doesn’t miss any meals. I think their mother may also live with them. They live on the second floor, and their niece, who is younger, lives in the apartment on the first floor. There is another woman on the third floor who mostly glares at me and never responds to my greetings, but she seems harmless. Another couple lives on the fourth floor. The ladies, especially, have been very kind and welcoming to me. I clearly sense this amidst their rapid South American Spanish, which I listen intently to in order to pick up a few sentences here and there.

Returning to the rhythm of my days in Kyoto, once the sun begins to set here around 6:20 p.m., everything goes silent. I say that for my quiet little building, not the neighborhood at large. My tiny apartment offers a Zen temple of silence and solitude in the early morning and golden evening hours, away from the surrounding urban jungle of traffic and chaos in Lima.

The diversity of birds in the park, which my apartment overlooks, begin announcing the day at about 4:30 a.m., then again at sunset on my terrace as I watch them return to the trees for their evening sleep.

My small apartment measures only 150 square feet, and yet the epic panorama of trees and nature across the entire park below my terrace is priceless. All of this for less than the car payment I was making just four years ago.

Most mornings, I begin the day like a Zen monk, sweeping the entire space, which has become covered in a layer of black soot in just 24 hours from the air quality of living amidst so many cars and people. After that, I silently enjoy a meditative cup of coffee with the birds, then begin my morning lessons with students in Japan who are ending their day on the other side of the world.

From my apartment, everything I need is within walking distance—markets, grocery stores, endless restaurants, my gym, cinemas. They know me by name now at the small neighborhood market on the corner, where I buy my bananas, juice, and water. If I don’t have cash on me, they write down my name to pay next time.

The energy of the world outside my door can be intense and overwhelming. Challenges await me every day in a city of 11 million people, almost all of them speaking rapid Spanish.

Yet in this tiny apartment, I have found a quiet and peaceful space to return to, 150 square feet of silence and solitude, hidden within the urban jungle of Lima.

Field Notes

Calmness is the rarest quality in human life. It is the poise of a great nature, in harmony with itself and its ideals.

Calmness comes ever from within. It is the peace and restfulness of the depths of our nature. The fury of storm and of wind agitate only the surface of the sea; they can penetrate only two or three hundred feet, — below that is the calm, unruffled deep.

When the worries and cares of the day fret you, and begin to wear upon you, and you chafe under the friction, — be calm.

Stop, rest for a moment, and let calmness and peace assert themselves.

If you let these irritating outside influences get the better of you, you are confessing your inferiority to them, by permitting them to dominate you. Study the disturbing elements, each by itself, bring all the will power of your nature to bear upon them, and you will find that they will, one by one, melt into nothingness, like vapors fading before the sun.

The glow of calmness that will then pervade your mind, the tingling sensation of an inflow of new strength, may be to you the beginning of the revelation of the supreme calmness that is possible for you.

Then, in some great hour of your life, when you stand face to face with some awful trial, when the structure of your ambition and life-work crumbles in a moment, you will be brave.

You can then fold your arms calmly, look out undismayed and undaunted upon the ashes of your hope, upon the wreck of what you have faithfully built, and with brave heart and unfaltering voice you may say: "So let it be, — 1 will build again."

When man has developed the spirit of Calmness until it becomes so absolutely part of him that his very presence radiates it, he has made great progress in life.

-The Majesty of Calmness, William George Jordan, 1898

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants.”

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

Lost in Santa Marta

Kirk Lee — Sun, 23 Mar 2025 10:02:38 GMT

It is a calm Sunday morning along a remote stretch of uninhabited Caribbean coastline in Guachaca, an easy hour and a half by taxi from Santa Marta, Colombia, through winding, dusty, mountainous roads into the untouched jungle.

Through endless pothole-filled roads and a few crocodile crossings our driver navigated the way to our secluded and well-hidden eco-cabina well off the beaten tourist path. Santa Marta, Colombia is the second oldest city in South America and we are just outside sacred indigenous Lost City.

Surrounded once again by infinite nature, I have settled effortlessly into the peaceful ebb and flow of the ocean. The breath has resumed its familiar rhythm. I am immediately transported back through time and dimension to my quiet days living simply along the Pacific side of Costa Rica in Playa Grande during a slow, quiet, rainy season four distant years ago.

We have joined beautiful friends who have traveled from Mt. Shasta, California for five days of reconnection after three and a half years since we last met. Synchronistically, these friends I met while living in Costa Rica. Kindred travelers on the journey, we instantly bonded over free flowing conversations late into the night and more than a few mango rums as they became lifelong companions.

In a dreamlike sequence of timeless days here in Colombia, life has offered a momentary window of opportunity to return once again to the simple basic elements of daily living which I first discovered along my journey some five years ago in Kyoto, Japan. These simplicities can be found anywhere one may find themselves in the world, from a dense, urban city to a remote stretch of beach in South America. I am reminded once again that these basic elements are all that are necessary for a truly happy, meaningful and authentic life.

We have put aside our phones, let the fear-inducing news and minute by minute chaotic world events fall behind. Mornings have effortlessly returned to silence, with only the sound of the incoming waves, the gentle breeze moving through the coconut palm trees and endless variety of unfamiliar exotic birds greeting the morning.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack of what is found there.

—William Carlos Williams

Waking early and effortlessly to the ocean and the elements, from one dream world into the next, one cannot help but move into the body through easy stretching, walking or a swim in the ocean. Nature has once again become my gym with tree branches washed up on the beach and stones and bamboo sticks to be found all around. We have also danced into the night, this perhaps being the most healing form of movement, expression and unrestrained joy.

Writing seems to flow effortlessly in a place like this, free of all distractions and anxiety inducing headlines. For a brief window in time we have been invited to return to that which is most important, a return to the natural flow of life, the rhythm of nature and uninterrupted time for connection with others apart from phones or screens.

We will soon return to “civilization,” to the traffic and the noise, the chaos and the headlines and demands of daily life. And yet we breathe a little easier, walk a little more calmly and hold close to our friends across the miles wherever they are in the world.

Field Notes

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

I sit at the depths 
of the ocean 
along the soft ocean floor 
only silence 
surrounds me
only the self
pure nothingness 
miles below 
the howling wind and turbulence 
of tsunamis and crashing waves 
the chaos of the world 
screaming and urgent 
for attention 
a new crisis of the day 
will soon slowly wash away 
effortlessly downstream 
surrendering to the calm
returning 
to the peaceful waters 
of the ocean 
so quietly 
I sit
calmly 
peacefully 
like a smooth, grey stone 
in a zen garden 
along the ocean floor 
this is my meditation

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants.”

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

Life is a Garden

Kirk Lee — Sun, 02 Mar 2025 11:02:28 GMT

Each morning, I wake naturally before dawn to a symphony of birds, each singing the arrival of a new day. Peru boasts the second-largest diversity of bird species in the world, following Colombia. An alarm clock is no longer necessary, as this has become my natural morning ritual.

It still feels almost unfathomable to wake up to such an orchestra of sounds in an urban city. I have settled into a 50-square-meter apartment in Surquillo, a neighborhood in Lima, Peru. Lima is one of the largest and most densely populated cities in the world. And yet, through some beautiful synchronicity, I have made my home in a top-floor apartment overlooking a sea of green trees and a park that stretches as far as the eye can see. It is a rare privilege, one that very few people in Lima get to enjoy.

The terrace is larger than the apartment itself. The back is completely open, mostly glass, and I keep the doors and windows open both day and night. It is currently summer in Peru, with February being the hottest month of the year. Days can be sweltering south of the Equator, but the cool evening breezes bring a calm relief. Air-conditioning is uncommon here, so you learn to adapt.

I have befriended many of the birds by leaving out bananas and other fruit each morning and evening. A couple of mockingbirds who travel together have faithfully visited every day since I arrived two months ago. Saffron finches, vermilion flycatchers, and, of course, pigeons also come by looking for food.

It is a paradox of sorts, to have found myself in such beautiful surroundings, to start each day in such a calm and peaceful way, all the while engulfed by the larger city around me of traffic, busyness and noise.

I have come to discover this as the great paradox of life, no matter where in the world we may live. There is no perfect place in the world anymore. And yet, within our own small worlds and simple daily lives, we can find the beauty, focus on it, and cultivate it into a flourishing garden that surrounds us.

A wise person recently reminded me of a truth I have always known: the world is in constant balance. Though mass media may direct our focus elsewhere, there is no need to worry. Beauty and suffering, good and evil, positive and negative—these forces exist side by side, and the world maintains her balance.

And so, it has been a remarkable discovery to find such beauty here in Lima, a place that can be challenging in many ways. I have found it in the birds that visit my terrace, in the trees that surround my simple space, growing and thriving despite the city’s chaos.

Even in one of the largest cities in the world, there is silence to be found. There is quiet in the early morning. There are some of the most beautiful people I have ever met in my life. They freely share their kindness, love, and generosity and warmly welcome me.

Now, more than ever, we must each seek out the beauty that immediately surrounds us—in the simplest of things. We must give it our attention, nurture it, and cultivate our own beautiful garden of life.

Field Notes

In a recent conversation, ChatGPT was asked about Zen Buddhism and the suffering that comes today from the endless stream of information individuals navigate in our modern civilization.

ChatGPT responded: From the perspective of Zen, Buddhism, and other non-dual perspectives, modern people can become addicted to the constant streams of information and distractions provided by modern civilization. This addiction can lead to a sense of restlessness and anxiety, preventing individuals from cultivating the stillness and awareness necessary for recognizing their true nature.

In the context of Buddhism, the term “samsara” refers to the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth that arises from attachment to the impermanent and illusory phenomena of the world. From this perspective, the constant stream of information and distractions provided by modern civilization can be seen as a form of samsara, as it can create attachment to the ever-changing phenomena of the world and prevent individuals from recognizing their true nature.

In addition, the input from modern civilization can generate samsara in our minds by creating attachment to particular views, opinions, and identities. This attachment can lead to suffering and delusion, as individuals become trapped in the dualities and conflicts of the world.

ChatGPT further suggests that we meditate, seek out silence, connect more closely with Nature and reduce our screen time.

Question: Can you give 10 specific changes modern people should make to break free of the streams of information and distractions provided by modern civilization?

ChatGPT: Certainly, here are ten specific changes that modern people can make to break free from the constant streams of information and distractions provided by modern civilization and cultivate a sense of detachment and awareness:

Reduce screen time: Limit the amount of time spent on cell phones, computers, and other electronic devices to minimize exposure to the constant streams of information and distractions.

Practice meditation: Cultivate a daily meditation practice to cultivate awareness and detachment from the constant stream of thoughts and emotions that arise in the mind.

Spend time in nature: Connect with the natural world to cultivate a sense of interconnectedness and harmony with the world.

Read books: Read books instead of relying solely on social media and other online sources for information.

Cultivate hobbies: Engage in activities and hobbies that require focus and attention, such as painting, playing music, or gardening.

Limit social media use: Set limits on social media use and be mindful of the potential for addiction and attachment to likes, followers, and other metrics.

Practice mindfulness: Practice mindfulness throughout the day, being present in the moment and fully engaged in whatever activity is being undertaken.

Engage in meaningful conversations: Seek out meaningful conversations with others, rather than relying solely on social media and other online sources for communication.

Seek out silence: Take breaks from the constant noise and stimulation of modern civilization to cultivate stillness and silence.

Reflect on impermanence: Reflect on the impermanence of all things, including the constant streams of information and distractions provided by modern civilization, to cultivate a sense of detachment and freedom from attachment.

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants.”

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

A World of Change

Kirk Lee — Sun, 26 Jan 2025 10:01:34 GMT

There are times when the beginning of a new adventure to an unfamiliar country are full of excitement and saturated with anticipation. Such were my early travels to distant places like China and Japan. I remember being undaunted by the 56 hours it took to get to Beijing some years ago, notwithstanding the detour including an unexpected night in Hawaii, followed by the fourteen hours in a shared overnight train car with complete strangers smoking and playing mahjong through the late hours to get to the remote mountains of Shandong province.

Other journeys begin with the ease of slipping into a favorite pair of socks. These are the recollections I have of my many comings and goings to Costa Rica, where the tranquilo energy of the pura vida way of life met me upon my arrival at the airport. Soaking into a simpler rhythm of life was almost instantaneous.

My recent arrival into South America and Peru at dawn on New Year’s day was a bit more abrupt and jarring. Maybe it was the multiple brushes with death in the Uber ride from the airport into the chaotic Lima traffic. I have experienced culture shock many times in my life before, going all the way back to my earliest experiences in Southeast Asia where I spent a summer living and doing mission work. Washing laundry beside a river while dead animals float by is one form of culture shock.

Latin America is no exception. For some reason this particular arrival into Lima at 5 am on the first day of the new year was particularly abrupt and disorienting. I am only beginning to slowly find my balance and return to my center after three weeks since arriving.

Perhaps it was due to the four months I spent enjoying all of the modern comforts of life in the U.S., the comfortable bed, the warm showers and all the familiar foods I began to once again get just a little too fat and used to were suddenly stripped away in the blink of an eye. In one overnight flight I went from all the modern conveniences of the first world to the contrast of daily life in South America, a place where the vast majority of people struggle just to get by from one day to another. I went from being surrounded by Teslas in traffic to children walking up to the car to sell candy for a coin or two.

Although my re-entry has been a challenge to my sensibilities, it could be argued that this sense of jarring disorientation is now the world that we all live in. From my experience, it is all once again a transformation of perspective and this is where the real growth always takes place.

As many are now being forced to learn, especially those of us who are Americans and have grown accustomed to living the good and easy life, through jarring and abrupt changes the perceived reality of the world we knew has been an illusion all along and our idea that we once had of the world is being dismantled right before our very eyes.

This is what my travels and experiences of other cultures has shown me again and again.

As the world now changes rapidly before our very eyes, perhaps moving through the world lightly with my handful of possessions is the most peaceful way to travel.

Along the journey, I always carry hope.

The Beauty and Paradox of Solo Travel

Best of 2024

Christmas in Peru

The Art of Slow Travel

The Sea of Humanity

A Different Rhythm

Journeys of Seeking

The World in a Cup of Coffee

Simplicity in a World of Chaos

Freedom to Travel

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants.”

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

A Return to the Pen

Kirk Lee — Tue, 31 Dec 2024 12:00:59 GMT

In Japan, there is the tradition of writing letters at the end of the year. In many cases, these are sent out to friends and family who have not been seen or communicated with over the long and busy year that has now passed. The Japanese also practice the end of year tradition of osoji, which is three days of thorough cleaning and throwing out the old to begin the new year fresh and clear of the past.

Read about Osoji

In keeping sync with Japanese culture, I am also returning my writing at the end of the year, picking up the pen once again after almost five months of mostly listening and observing in the U.S. There has certainly been quite alot to observe. Originally, this was to have been a six-week visit from Peru to see my family, but as life so often does, it took an unexpected detour into five months. The flow of life is always redirecting our best laid plans. During this time, I have enjoyed a very meaningful season with my family and quietly observed the ever-increasing pace of modern life in America in contrast to this past year in Cusco and Lima, Peru.

As most people are currently focused around the holiday season, I am also practicing end of the year osoji as I minimize my belongings once again and go through my mindful ritual of packing my life into one bag to set off on my return to South America, just below the equator in Peru as summer begins.

While many will be celebrating New Year’s Eve in their own special way, I will be welcoming the new year from my economy seat at 30,000 feet on the overnight flight to Lima. I will pass through customs at 5am on New Year’s morning and quickly look for the nearest cup of Peruvian coffee and one of those croissants I have missed so much.

Most of what I do at this point in life is observe and listen. I have had the great fortune and privilege to live in five different countries over the past five years and spent the last four Christmas’s in Kyoto, Costa Rica, Panama and Peru. I have moved through daily life in these other cultures by observing and listening and then writing about my experiences so that others might have the opportunity to catch just a small glimpse of life in these different countries and gain perspectives they might not otherwise have discovered. Most of my daily working hours are spent patiently listening to people from Japan talk about their work and daily lives in a completely different culture.

All of these experiences give me perspective.

There is great wealth in perspective that one cannot place any monetary value on. My sincere and humble hope is that over time and over these many miles these perspectives turn into some small measure of wisdom.

As 2025 begins a new year, I begin a new year of travels and experiences in South America. I leave winter behind and fly into the beginning of summer in Peru. I am excited to once again pick up the pen and return to my notebook and will be sharing my stories with you.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published


“Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.”
                      -Benjamin Franklin

Thank you for reading and coming along on the adventure.

The Beauty and Paradox of Solo Travel

Best of 2024

As we turn the page on 2025, perhaps you have some extra reading time over the holiday. Please savor a recap of the most enjoyed articles of 2024. Each one offers a lesson gleaned through the lens of a different perspective and a different culture. Here’s wishing you simplicity in 2025 and always the heart of an explorer.

Christmas in Peru

The Art of Slow Travel

The Sea of Humanity

A Different Rhythm

Journeys of Seeking

The World in a Cup of Coffee

Simplicity in a World of Chaos

Freedom to Travel

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants.”

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

The Garden of Silence

Kirk Lee — Sun, 14 Jul 2024 10:31:51 GMT

Lima, Peru is a city of 11 million people. Consider New York City and then add another 3 million people. Of the 11 million people in Lima, roughly only one in ten speak any English. The Spanish spoken in South America is spoken at a rate considerably more rapid than places like Costa Rica in Central America. It is difficult, if not impossible, for the native English ear to assimilate and process the words, let alone understand them. It is well-known that the further south you travel in South America the faster the Spanish gets.

Five years ago, I left my home city of Austin, Texas because I felt increasingly overwhelmed in a city that was rapidly growing to 2 million people. I found myself comfortably at peace escaping to Kyoto, Japan with just under a million and a half people. Perhaps it was the reserved nature of Japanese people or the Japanese way of silence in public spaces or the fact that most people walk in Kyoto, thereby reducing a huge backdrop of noise from traffic.

Somehow, I have now found myself surrounded by 11 million people. Shortly after arriving in Lima, while walking on a grey and cloudy day, I unexpectedly stumbled upon a Japanese garden sitting there completely out of place without a single person sitting in the park.

Appropriately, the plaque at the entrance read “Jardin de Silencio,” or Garden of Silence. I couldn’t believe it. It was as if it had called me there.

Crowds of people rushed by, horns honked, trains rushed overhead without anyone noticing this peaceful garden sitting in the middle of Lima, Peru. The gate was locked and remained locked for many days as I walked by each time and made it a point to stop. I wanted to sit in silence in this garden. I wanted to be transported back to Kyoto for a moment in time.

Japanese Zen gardens were created to be empty spaces of stillness and tranquility that created a sense of awe-inspiring quiet and transformation when one stepped into these spaces from the outside world. As Lima can be a challenging environment compared to many places I have lived in the past, I found this Garden of Silence to be the perfect metaphor for my experience. For just a quiet moment, it allowed me to reconnect with my love for Japan and Japanese gardens in a place one might have least expected.

Masuno Shunmyo, who was one of Japan’s leading Zen garden designers insightfully wrote, “Many people are suffering today from being disconnected from nature in their everyday lives. Zen gardens are designed to provide that connection.”

I contemplated this one cloudy afternoon in the Garden of Silence. I was the only person in this beautiful park, completely out of sync with the rest of the world. I watched as horns honked and people walked by without noticing. How remarkable to have discovered such a place in Lima, Peru.

Field Notes

they say

that a picture

is worth

a thousand

words

five pictures

no words

-Kyoto’s Imperial Gardens

Travelogues

Enjoy five years of past articles from the Zen and Ink Journals journey in the archives.

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

Perfect Days

Kirk Lee — Sun, 30 Jun 2024 10:02:03 GMT

This past week I finally got around to watching a film that had been on my list for the past six months. I don’t watch many movies these days. As someone who once aspired to make movies as an actor and director there is not much on today’s menu that captures my interest. I find myself returning more and more to classic films of the past.

The film Perfect Days was an exception. Perhaps it was due to being a Japanese film that initially caught my attention. I frequently watch Japanese films and series to maintain my sense of connection with the beautiful culture I called home for a year. I began seeing the reviews and awards it was receiving so I put it on my list.

On a lazy Sunday evening with no one around and nothing to do, it was the perfect time to watch this movie. The film is slow and quiet without much dialogue, qualities which I have always deeply connected with in Japanese culture. As the film opens, we are intimately allowed into the daily routine of Hirayama, a quiet man in the later season of his life who cleans public toilets for his simple way of living in Tokyo. Keep in mind, Tokyo is the largest city in the world.

Hirayama’s daily routine and the entire film are underscored by Hirayama’s vast cassette collection which give us hints into the past life that Hirayama has now left behind. These songs from the 60’s and 70’s set the tone for the film.

Like the mindfulness practices and schedule of a Zen monk, Hirayama’s life is all about routine and simplicity, mindfulness and beauty. His days and his life are expressions of finding the beauty in the simplest of moments and the mindful attention to the most routine activities and even the most menial work.

Hirayama wakes up every morning to the sound of sweeping in the street outside his window, something I have also grown accustomed to in Barranco, Peru. His morning routine, with precision, is exactly the same every day. From the folding of his futon to the careful watering of his bonsai trees, which he does with great joy and excitement, to the same can of Boss coffee he enjoys from the same vending machine before he sets off for his daily job of cleaning public toilets around Tokyo.

One might expect this to be the most boring film ever, and for those who miss its message it will be. Those who find it boring will likely be the same people who find sitting in nature and doing nothing boring, or listening to a beautiful piece of music boring. Throughout the day, we further experience how Hirayama perceives and interacts with the world differently. He sees the often unseen beauty in people, sits in parks taking photographs of trees, which he meticulously prints and catalogues. He spends his evenings alone in his humble home quietly reading books on his tatami mat, which he buys at the used bookstore off of the dollar shelf.

Most other people in the film do not understand Hirayama and dismiss him with distain, as one of those people who have jobs like cleaning toilets. Others we meet, like his young niece and his unreliable co-worker, are drawn unknowingly to him and transformed by Hirayama’s character and influence, although he has no compulsion to influence anyone at all. He is simply and humbly living his way of life, a completely shocking contrast out of sync with the rest of the world.

I unexpectedly connected deeply with this film for so many reasons. In just two hours this film effortlessly captured what I have tried to write about for the past five years. It did so beautifully and quietly without the need for words. It captured the essence of what it is to live simply and quietly in the world, in contrast the rapidly rushing current of the stream of modern culture all around us. Hirayama demonstrates for us what it is to see beauty and kindness all around us while creating joy and happiness from within through mindful routines and focus.

In a sense, he captures the essence of Zen.

Most importantly, the film demonstrates how often a truly beautiful life is painfully born out of great crushing loss and heartbreak. We never learn exactly what it was that was lost and ended so painfully in Hirayama’s life, but we glimpse through his tears that it was the catalyst out of which his now simple and beautiful life was born.

As I watched the film, I could have been Hirayama. I have lived his existence for many of the past five years. Like Hirayama, I have discovered the keys to a beautiful life in living simply, finding the beauty in routines such as sitting among the trees, taking photos for the sake of their beauty and writing about the beauty and kindness in the people and places I experience.

While my job of teaching English to Japanese people is not cleaning toilets, some analogies can be drawn to the routine and humility of the job. The beauty is found in the people, not the job.

Appropriately, the film ends with Hirayama driving at sunset while Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good” plays on his cassette. In the last scene we see what likely earned Koji Yakusho the Best Actor Award at Cannes Film Festival and many other nominations. He is fully and completely immersed in the moment of life in all of its beauty, sadness, joy, sorrow, ecstasy and pain. He manages to convey all of this in his face without expressing a word. On his face, we see his joy, his tears, his pain and ultimately his enlightenment.

As Hirayama accurately puts it in the film, “Next time is next time. Now is now.”

Read The Guardian’s review of Perfect Days

Perfect Days can be streamed on Apple TV or Amazon Prime

Field Notes

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

the world is speeding up
yet I am slowing down
people are doing more talking 
I am returning to silence
the world is seeking more entertainment 
I am seeking more solitude
the world is striving after things 
I am hungry for adventure and experience
many are seeking more
I am content with enough
the world is seeking to build more 
I am inspired to create more
the world is seeking something “out there”
I have discovered everything “in here”
where is the world headed?
I feel as though I have already arrived 

                                   -KL

Travelogues

Enjoy five years of past articles from the Zen and Ink Journals journey in the archives.

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

Freedom to Travel

Kirk Lee — Sun, 23 Jun 2024 10:01:47 GMT

In all of my journeys, I have never lost the gratitude I carry with me like a coin in my pocket for simply having the freedom to travel. By some stroke of good fortune or karmic past I was lucky enough to be born in the United States. No matter what one’s life challenges may be, by simply being born in the United States one is automatically afforded freedoms and luxuries that many people around the world will only spend their entire lifetime dreaming of. It is like winning a lottery ticket at birth. One of these great freedoms for every U.S. ticket holder is the freedom to travel.

Some years ago, while sitting in a tea shop overlooking a beautiful Zen garden in Kyoto, Japan, I was astonished to read that as of 1990 only 5% of American citizens held a U.S. passport. Today that statistic is up to just 50%. Consider that only a fraction of those who have one will ever actually use it. I know many people who have a passport but have never been anywhere nor have any future plans to travel. For $130 anyone can get a U.S. passport and go anywhere in the world. This will change their perspective and change their life.

When I was 18, I had my first adventure to Southeast Asia, the Philippines. I watched as children bathed in the river with dead animals, went to sleep terrified of rats bigger than cats biting me in the night and sat around the floor with a family whose dog we ate for dinner. These experience alone of a completely different culture and standard of living turned my perspective upside down. I vowed to myself never to go back and resume the American way of living as it had been handed down to me. I now had a much bigger view of the world. Following that first adventure, it would be many years before I would travel again.

Many years later, I live very humbly in countries that are well below the standards we have come to expect in places like the United States. For many people I have met along the way, from China to Japan to South America, the idea of freedom to travel to another country of one’s choosing is a far and unachievable dream way off in the distance, one that most will never see.

In Japan, I remember my old friend Shunichi “Shoe” from my painting class. He was many years older than me and had worked his entire life as a salary man in the soul-crushing Japanese corporate infrastructure. He had earned a salary his entire life and said to me, “I envy you and the life you live. It would be my dream.” He could have easily afforded the life I was living but in his mind and in his culture it seemed impossible.

If you are a Peruvian citizen, taking a trip to a place like the U.S. is a dream and isn’t as simple as going online and buying your ticket and showing up at the airport. It might take you up to a year to get an appointment to be interviewed for a visa to the U.S. Freedom of travel isn’t guaranteed and most people in Peru will never see outside of Peru.

I will never take for granted the freedom to travel. It doesn’t require much money, as I have proven again and again. It only requires freedom.

Field Notes

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book…or you take a trip…and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken. 
                                                                   -Anais Nin

Travelogues

Enjoy five years of past articles from the Zen and Ink Journals journey in the archives.

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

A Blending of Worlds

Kirk Lee — Sun, 16 Jun 2024 10:01:40 GMT

At the end of my street is the best restaurant in the world. Central in Barranco was voted the best restaurant in the world by more than 1,000 international culinary chefs. They serve a 12-course menu. See Chef’s Table, Season 3, Episode 6 on Netflix.

If I were so inclined, I could go enjoy the meal of a lifetime for about what I pay for my beautiful apartment less than half a block away for an entire month. People travel from all over the world to Peru to experience this restaurant. Michelin chefs line up on the street outside. I am surrounded by such places in Barranco. On any given morning I can walk from my house to enjoy a cappuccino and a croissant at Alanya Repostería.

In 2022, Alanya was voted the best bakery in Lima, Peru. One Saturday morning while visiting there we were seated at the table next to the former wife of Mario Vargas Llosa, one of Peru’s most celebrated authors. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2010. At another table was a well-known actor in Peru. A cappuccino will run you $2.64.

When night falls I see another side of life in Peru. Last night I was awakened for a second night in a row to the sound of rustling outside my window. It grew louder as the sound of plastic was being crushed over and over again. I went downstairs and peered behind the iron bars of my window to see packs of people moving through the street tearing open garbage bags, digging for any salvageable treasures worth confiscating. The glow of cigarettes and smoke filled the air.

Just south of where I live in Lima is a completely different world, I am told. One where millions of people live in tiny shacks and shanty towns. Perhaps they travel north late into the night to rummage through the trash of those living at the next level up the food chain.

I have experienced this paradox, this merging of worlds, in almost every country where I have lived. The haves and the have-nots being forced together. In my hometown of Austin, I lived in one of the most desirable neighborhoods in the city. Homeless people approached the BMW’s and Teslas as they left the neighborhood for work every morning.

In Japan, homeless people are free to live in the park and have a relatively peaceful existence. In Costa Rica, the influx of Americans who have retired there have driven the locals further into poverty as the prices have escalated. I lived for six months on a coffee covered mountain in Panama among only my indigenous neighbors who woke me every morning with their singing while picking coffee.

Peru seems to be another country with the same issues, yet only more extreme and directly in my experience every day and every moment. Yesterday, while eating lunch, a young boy wandered in from the street to our table and asked for money in exchange for a piece of candy.

It is the first and most central teaching of Buddhism, the awareness that there is suffering all around us.

So then the question becomes not where one will travel the far reaches of the world to try to escape suffering but how one will live fully in a world full of great suffering and offer a small ray of light wherever one finds themselves in this world.

In 2019 travelled to Baekyangsa Temple in South Korea to meet Kwan Jeong, who was also featured on Chef’s Table. I spent three days at her temple in the mountains of Korea learning about the connection between meditation, food and sharing that with people. Simply being in her presence changed me as a person. I received the gift of a beaded bracelet from her on my birthday.

Please change your life by watching her on Netflix’s Chef’s Table, Season 3.

It will be an hour well spent.

Field Notes

“The moment of awakening is marked by an outburst of laughter. But this is not the laughter of someone who suddenly acquires a great fortune; neither is it the laughter of one who has won a victory. It is, rather, the laughter of one who, after having painfully searched for something for a long time, finds it one morning in the pocket of his coat.”

-Thich Nhat Hanh, Zen Keys

Travelogues

Enjoy five years of past articles from the Zen and Ink Journals journey in the archives.

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last five years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

Travel With No Destination

Kirk Lee — Sun, 02 Jun 2024 10:00:45 GMT

This week I was reading back over an article I wrote almost two years ago entitled Tiny Houses. I wrote the article from a tiny one-room house on an isolated mountaintop in Costa Rica. I prepared my coffee in a kitchen the size of an ordinary coat closet. It was the ultimate realization of simplicity and solitude.

At that time, I reflected over my journey of living in more than 25 homes over the course of my life. I suppose that alone set me on the path of being an explorer in life, never really finding a place to settle for the long-term. I gave it my best effort once when I owned a small house for four years. As one friend recently put it, a “rolling stone,” choosing the path of freedom.

Seeking Home

Over the last two years I have now added 5 more living spaces in 3 different countries to my list. As the page turns already six months into another year, I am now living in my third home in a second city in just the first half of this year. Even I must admit, it gets tiring and takes its toll after awhile.

I reflected on my own insights in the article….

All of this perpetual movement and disruption of my surroundings often serves as a perfect metaphor for the times we are now living in. There seem to be no foundations of certainty to be found in our external world or environment and the very foundations of “certainty” we once thought we had continue to crumble all around us with each day’s news feed.

Even things we had planned or envisioned a year or two ago seem to be now distant memories, forgotten amidst the flux on a daily and monthly basis.

Over time, this has led me to seek the “foundation beneath no foundation.” I first began to discover elements of this deeper foundation of certainty while living on my own in Kyoto, Japan. I found this by living surrounded by nature, morning walks and meditations, writing, painting and living as simply as possible. I have now been fortunate to taste glimpses of these elements that travel with me in Japan, Boquete, Panama, and Costa Rica. I have begun to discover that I can carry these things with me no matter what my surroundings are.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

               A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. 
              A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants.

                                                                      -Tao Te Ching

I am fortunate to have now found myself in Barranco, Lima, Peru, a completely unplanned and unexpected detour. In my experience, most of the best things that happened to me in life were unplanned and on an expected detour. I sense the need to stay in one place for awhile. I never imagined that would be in South America.

While I have learned after more than 15 countries that there is no perfect place in the world, with all of its challenges Barranco does offer a place where I can have some access to nature with a walk to the ocean, I can live simply with a cost of housing that hasn’t changed in the past four years for me in three different countries. Remarkably, Cusco and the beautiful nature of the Andes mountains are quite close and easily accessible for a short and inexpensive flight. This new location provides plenty of opportunities for morning walks, writing and continuing to live as minimally and simply as possible

The challenge of this new chapter will be to somehow do this while surrounded by a city of 11 million people and the one of the world’s most horrific traffic environments. Fortunately, I own no car and my apartment is one block away from the ocean.

Perhaps this will be what I write about in the future.

Meanwhile, enjoy reading Tiny Houses from 2022.

Tiny Houses

Field Notes

My father talked about the difference between sailing across the sea to arrive somewhere and sailing for the experience of sailing.

He said, “It’s always harder to sail toward a fixed point, because you will inevitably have to cross the wind several times to get there.”

In contrast, a boat moves its fastest and cleanest when it simply follows the wind.

"The One Life We're Given: Finding the Wisdom That Waits in Your Heart" by Mark Nepo.

Morning Boats, Martha’s Vineyard 2018

Travelogues

Enjoy four years of past articles from the Zen and Ink Journals journey in the archives.

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last four years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

The Meditative Art of Shoe Shining

Kirk Lee — Sun, 19 May 2024 10:02:14 GMT

There is nothing that so immediately transports me into a state of calm tranquility and meditation as the crisp scent of a newly opened can of shoe polish.

To begin my ritual, I usually find a quiet place to sit. I carefully spread out my supplies and my favorite pair of leather boots, take a few deep breaths, and spend the next ten minutes in a pure state of Zen focus as I mindfully polish my shoes by hand.

I first discovered the practice of meditation ten years ago on my first solo adventure to Costa Rica. It was there that I also discovered yoga and surfing, both meditation practices in their own right.

I later went on to learn the art of meditation and practice more deeply through training as a yoga instructor, which also introduced me to Buddhist philosophy and practice. I became a meditation teacher, although I have never formally taught meditation.

I traveled to China and eventually to Japan, where I sat for countless hours with Zen monks practicing zazen until my legs went numb.

In all of my journeys and experiences, I have come to quietly discover over many years that while the word meditation conjures up all kinds of images of Zen monks and “spiritual” people, it is really the most simple and natural practice in the world and immediately accessible to anyone at any moment of the day or anyplace they might find themselves. It is as simple as a baby breathing, a return to our natural way of being. It is a moment available at any time to step out of the noise and chaos of the world around us

I have been traveling the world for the past five years and one of the very few items that goes with me on every adventure is my favorite pair of leather boots. I remember the day the arrived some six years ago. They have since been with me, walking over 500 miles throughout the narrow streets and alleys of Kyoto. They have accompanied me to Central America in Costa Rica, Panama and Guatemala. They have stuck with me on the cobblestone streets of Cusco and now Lima, Peru.

Eventually, the soles ran through and I was able to find a craftsman in Cusco who sewed in the new soles for the humble price of $13. His shop has been there longer than I have been alive.

Recently, I wrote the company that made them to see if I could replace the exact same pair. They are no longer made. I suppose I will replace the soles the next time they run through, if I am anywhere near the humble shop in Cusco.

When I sit down to quietly polish and shine my shoes, I slip easily into a state of pure meditation and reflect over the many miles I have traveled and the many stories and people these boots have shared with me. I am at peace, in a state of calm tranquility and all is well with the world.

Field Notes

“You can make any human activity into a meditation simply by being completely with it and doing it just to do it. If you really enjoy swimming, you swim not to get to the other side of the river, or to complete a certain number of laps, or to go so far out into the ocean, or to compete in any way with yourself or with other people. You swim to experience the water rippling past you, and to enjoy the floating sensation when you lie on your back and look at the blue sky and the birds circling about. Every moment you are simply absorbed in this ripply, luminous world, looking at the patterns and the shifting net of sunlight underneath, and the sand way down below-that’s what swimming is about.

Some of us like swimming, and in the same way, some of us like meditation.”

-Alan Watts, The Way of Zen

Travelogues

Enjoy four years of past articles from the Zen and Ink Journals journey in the archives.

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last four years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

Messengers from God

Kirk Lee — Sun, 12 May 2024 10:02:12 GMT

Today I saw a blind man walking up and down the lanes of busy traffic holding a paper cup asking for money.

On my walk to the gym each day I pass the same woman sitting in the very same spot holding her empty cup asking for a coin or two. I had a coin on me only once so I dropped it into the hollow cup.

Each day I am met with these “messengers” who invite me to a different perspective and greater compassion in the world.

The other day I requested an Uber in the peak of central Lima traffic. I noticed that the driver who responded was a woman. Her name was Angela. It is a very rare occurrence to have a woman driver in South America. When Angela arrived I immediately noticed she was an older woman, perhaps in her seventies. She was still driving a stick shift, an admirable skill becoming almost obsolete in the world today.

Almost immediately as we set off for Barranco we found ourselves surrounded by traffic at a dead standstill. Horns going off relentlessly in frustration as eight cars shoved their way into three lanes. I watched patiently in the sweltering heat for fifteen minutes as the light changed over and over again and while we sat helpless in the heat.

“This is my life,” Angela said, in a voice that was exhausted but had also reached a place of acceptance. “I work every day only to earn money. It is not enough, but it is what I do. There is no time left over for anything else.” I couldn’t help but notice on my phone that my one hour trip with Angela would earn her less than $3. I imagined my mother doing such a job only to survive.

Angela began to talk in an endless stream and tell me her personal stories, surprising in fairly good English which is rare in South America.

“I have many stories,” she said. I listened. As we slowly made our alternative route flying through the back alleys and side streets of Lima, she began to tell me her stories. She told me about how she wakes up every morning at 4:30 am to drive for Uber until 6 pm, seven days a week.

She told me many stories I don’t remember but then she told me the story about her mother. This was the most remarkable story she told me that day. She told me that at the age of fourteen she and her mother were on a plane together traveling to Venezuela. They were flying over the Andes mountains. Angela recounted getting up from her seat to go talk to a friend for just a moment. She reminded her mother to put her seatbelt on. That was the last thing she remembered before the plane crashed.

The Andes mountains where they crashed are forested with trees. Angela’s last memory of her mother was of her hanging from a tree high above her. She had been killed in the crash. This was the last recollection of her mother. Angela said that she always wondered throughout her life if she had not told her mother to put her seatbelt on if she might still be alive.

She told me other stories of her grandchildren, how she dreamed of going to the U.S. and changing her life. I told her that her English was so good she should consider teaching Spanish online to English speakers. “I didn’t know you could do that, “ she said. “I am going to go home and look into that.”

I don’t remember most of Angela’s stories but I will never forget the story of her mother. As she dropped me off at the curb in front of my apartment we talked about how we meet certain people along the way for a reason, even if only for a moment in time.

That evening I was inspired to look up the meaning of the name Angela on my phone. Angela means “messenger of God” derived from the word Angel.

One can never know for certain, but I will always remember my ride in Lima with Angela.

Field Notes

“I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.”

-Michelangelo

Happy Mother’s Day

“All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother"

-Abraham Lincoln

Travelogues

Enjoy four years of past articles from the Zen and Ink Journals journey in the archives.

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last four years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

Simplicity in a World of Chaos

Kirk Lee — Sun, 05 May 2024 10:01:37 GMT

I’ve always imagined living in such a place where on any given afternoon you could hear the jazz music of Kenny Dorham playing in the background with all of the windows open while coffee is waiting for the water to heat up. You could take a walk to the nearest corner for a scoop of hand spun ice-cream and perhaps pick up a loaf freshly baked bread from the morning for less than a couple of dollars.

If you had the time you might walk to the nearby park to sit and contemplate the sculpture of the fountain dispensing water or watch children laughing and eating snacks as they walk home from school, still naive to all of the concerns of the world around them.

On your way home you might pass the restaurant where three brothers have been hand carving and serving sandwiches for the past 85 years. If you are friendly and tell them about Japan they will give you a shot of 12-year old Yamazaki whiskey on a Monday afternoon for free. They take only cash for the $3 sandwiches.

As you make your way you notice the shop door is open for the craftsman who is hand-making shoes and boots. He has also been there for almost a century. The biggest decision of the afternoon would be whether to choose your croissant from the French, German or local Peruvian bakery.

Given the current state of the world in complete disarray and modern culture on a rapidly moving train in the opposite direction, it is hard to imagine such a place still exists. Somehow I have managed to land in such a place in Barranco, Peru.

In Barranco, despite the seeming demise of the surrounding world, even the world of Lima, everything is still colorful. Every day one is surrounded by art in the streets and vivid paintings of all kinds of expression. I have discovered a beauty in lesser developed cultures that have struggled and been oppressed. Beautiful art seems to emerge from the pain and hardship of the people.

Perhaps this is what I see in places like Barranco and Cusco. There is something deeply inspiring about it, especially when one has spent their whole life in a culture driven by technological advancement which seem to be the most valued and rewarded contributions to society.

Although Barranco was once the area of Peru where the wealthy gathered along the beach, most of the daily lives I observe around me still seem very poor and life is a constant struggle for so many. This is most clearly represented by the colorful art and graffiti on most of the buildings. The average annual income in Peru is around $6,000. I am still approached for money every day, though to a lesser degree than in Cusco.

People from other countries often perceive South America to be dangerous and unsafe. Perhaps rightly so. If you listen to what “they” say, Peru ranks among the most unsafe countries to travel, possibly due to its corrupt government for countless decades which leaves people feeling frustrated and helpless. I have never found myself in a dangerous situation in Peru nor have I ever witnessed one. Perhaps I don’t attract them.

A couple of days ago as I was out on my daily walk I witnessed an incident that was quite the opposite and reminded me that the world is not so dangerous. I was making my way home through the park as I noticed an older woman suddenly drop her bag full of limes. It would have been comical but instead I felt more compassion for her as her limes went rolling in every direction. Then, a remarkable thing happened. One man rushed over and began helping her retrieve the escaping limes. Then another man, then another. I was compelled to jump in and help.

As I walked home I thought to myself what a remarkable thing to see in a place that people perceive to be unsafe and dangerous. I am sure there are dangerous things that happen anytime you have 11 million people living together.

In my experience, wherever I go in the world, people seem to be people. There have been kind ones everywhere I have been and I suppose there are dangerous ones, though I haven’t met any. Meanwhile, I enjoy Kenny Dorham playing in the background while the water for my coffee heats up. I leave my windows open. Somehow I feel a sense of peace and calm knowing that the three brothers have been down the street carving sandwiches and the shoemaker has been making shoes for almost a hundred years.

Everything will probably be ok.

Field Notes

“Most people discover at midlife that it was an empty promise, a lie, producing a disgust so deep that they revolt and break loose from the game that society had them playing.”

-Anthony DeMello

Travelogues

Enjoy four years of past articles from the Zen and Ink Journals journey in the archives.

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last four years of travel.

Subscribe. Donate. Share the Journey.

On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.

If you would like to become a regular subscriber, please consider foregoing the cost of one cup of coffee and a pastry each month ($8) and becoming a monthly subscriber.

Available for iOS and Android

If you would like to stop receiving emails from Zen and Ink Journals simply click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of this email.

The World in a Cup of Coffee

Kirk Lee — Sun, 28 Apr 2024 10:00:36 GMT

I will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again. Over these past five years I have seen and experienced too much.

I have watched patiently in fascination as I learned the mindful art of Japanese coffee from a master of his craft in Kyoto, Japan. He introduced me to the potential for coffee to be treated as a meditative practice. I have been awakened from my sleep by the singing of indigenous workers picking coffee before dawn outside my window in Boquete, Panama, offering songs and laughter as they labored tirelessly. I have spent six months through the seasons of sun and rain, picking and processing my own coffee on a lush mountaintop.

I have lived among the coffee groves in Costa Rica and watched as Nicaraguan workers, including women and children, were driven in by trucks, like cattle standing in crowded packs, to spend twelve hours a day picking coffee to be processed, packaged and sold for a profit they would never see.

I now have firsthand knowledge and a deep appreciation and compassion for the many months, countless people and callused hands that go into one cup of coffee.

I have now managed to find myself in Peru, South America, where I have only further deepened my understanding and appreciation for a delicious cup of coffee and all the many steps that had to happen to bring it to my cup.

In America, one sees varieties of coffee from Costa Rica, Guatemala and perhaps, Panama, however it has been very rare in my experience to see coffee from Peru. Having now tasted coffee grown high in the Andes mountains surrounding Cusco and the region near the Amazon, it is perhaps the most delicious coffee I have ever savored.

If only the average person could see firsthand what goes into the cup of coffee they enjoy each morning as they rush through the drive-thru at Starbucks it just might change their whole perspective on life.

The life-cycle from a bean of coffee to your cup is more than two and a half years before you ever taste that first sip. If one considers the time it takes to grow from a seed to a plant into a plant that is healthy enough to put into the ground, then another two years to grow and ripen into a tree with bright red beans for many workers to pick with their bare hands.

From there it is then processed, taking another six months for the drying and storage process over many days (hopefully without rain) before it is transported and roasted and then shipped to your neighborhood coffee shop.

By going through this entire process myself and also living in parts of the world where some of the best coffee is grown and workers are paid the least, I have had the opportunity to see the world in a cup of coffee.

Getting a glimpse behind the scenes of your morning cup of coffee, I invite you take an extra quiet moment to fully savor and deeply appreciate it as quite literally, the world has gone into your one cup of coffee.

Field Notes

At times I have been reminded of Thich Nhat Hanh’s words on being mindfully present while eating a meal. I can easily apply these to my cup of coffee:

In this food (coffee)
I see clearly the presence
of the entire universe
supporting my existence.

This plate of food (This cup of coffee)
so fragrant and appetizing,
also contains much suffering.

With the first taste, I promise to offer joy.
With the second, I promise to help relieve
the suffering of others.
With the third, I promise to see others' joy as my own.
With the fourth, I promise to learn the way
of non-attachment and equanimity.

The plate ( cup ) is empty.
My hunger ( thirst ) is satisfied.
I vow to live
for the benefit of all beings.

There is an interesting story behind what is now my favorite cup to drink my coffee. When I was in Cusco, I was in a coffee shop and really admired the coffee cups they served in. When I asked the owner where to get them he told me they were made by prisoners in a Peruvian prison where they design art and reintegrate themselves back into society. He told me they were sold in Lima (where I did not live at the time).

When I arrived in Lima I was determined to find the shop so that I could buy one. On one of my first days in Barranco I went into a tiny cafe just around the corner from my apartment. The cafe was filled with coffee ware that had been made by the prisoners.

Of course I bought one for about the price of a cup of coffee in the U.S.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

                                                coffee in Kyoto
                                                prepared by a true Master
                                                morning cup of Zen

                                                Haiku written in Kyoto, Japan, 2019

Travelogues

Enjoy four years of past articles from the Zen and Ink Journals journey in the archives.

Published Travel Articles

Enjoy published articles from my last four years of travel.