In Tokyo, there’s a challenge with Ravens. They’re too many, too smart. And they get into trouble. And they get into the garbage. The raucous call of the Raven is a common mnemonic in Tokyo. Even in watching current Japanese movies set there, you can hear them. Really, as entertainment, they are a good addition to the experience of the city. So how could you even hope for something like this?
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In my personal experience with this mindful family, they reach to me to tell me to pay attention. Kaww, the wide plazas of Ulan Bataar. Krarak, Agya Sofia, Istanbul. Quork, the highlands of Tibet. KahKah, the Cascades. Krrak, the San Juans.
I recall being in Tokyo, at the Ginza Gallery. I’d come to the street, and there was the typical action outside the gallery, traffic blaring, people making their way, sun streaming, treelined with Gingko. I’d been inside with a team from Nissan Design Group, looking at the exhibition. And standing there, I was tired, jet lagged, trying to get my balance. But, struggling there.
And in contemplating composure, I stood there. Swaying in the crowd. And sensing something. Looking into the Gingko, just there, revealing itself in the branches, peeking through the leaves, a great Raven peered out.
Hello. Are you here? Better be.
Be better.
With that, focus renews. And you are just.
There.
Here.