Letters from the Mountain

Saw 'Letters from the Mountain' today, a lovely Japanese film about the beauty of a simple life in a Japanese village, experienced through the eyes of a couple strained from city life.

I was struck by how fulfilling life is when one can touch and share and heal and really, really talk with other humans. I think the pain of city life is that everyone is detached and wrapped in an invisible wall of busy-ness, pre-occupation, contrived sophisitication and distrust. To me, the simplicity of country life wasn't in the incredible scenery or the quaint, noble characters, it was that there was real interaction with one another, with nature.

One of the main characters is this 96 year old lady who spoke wisdom with a child-like passion. The film showed all these old ladies bent over with age, yet still planting and reaping in the fields. One said she was very happy just talking a little with a friend in th morning.
I met my mum after the show, still mulling over the film. On the way home, I mentioned what I had seen in the movie and asked her - So what will you do after you stop working? You'll need to have friends to talk to right? She paused for a moment then said - I'll read the bible. And exercise, meet friends.
I stopped. How little I know my own mother. How presumptous I am, that I always have better answers than she does, just because I'm more articulate.

In the movie, the lead character, a lady doctor - gentle and bright, the words of the old lady - said that one of the most important traits of a good doctor is humility. I think that must be true for teachers and daughters as well.

I know I am bright - I would like to be gentle too.