Ðıspħerał, Pt. 2
Whispering fires through the trees, smoke and lasers bearing down, and throngs of playful mercenaries, brought together create a mystical town.
Burn It All, Cont.
Alright, the long-awaited 2nd half to the Burning Japan 2023 story! I gotta say, I was kind of surprised with myself at how much I wrote regarding this admittedly excellent experience. There’s even more that I could write, but that’s a neverending path and more than having any kind of perfect embodiment of the event, I’m excited to get a semblance of it into your hands.
In case you missed Part 1, you can find it here, but let’s get to the good stuff. Onward!
Phase 4: The Burn
Phase 4.1: November 2 - Day 0
Phase 4.1.1 - Dialing In
Upon seating myself back at my camp, I began slicing some boar to grill while greeting others and having others greet me. Some would stop by to talk or have a beer or some barbecue, others would say “hey I’ll drop by later, great camp!” - a very convivial environment it was.
One camper - let’s call them W - who had scoped out the space next to my camp, introduced themselves as a future neighbor, ran back to get their things, but instead mistakenly set up shop at a different spot nearby, not being able to really make out their unfamiliar surroundings. After they had finished setting up, they came over and said, “hey, just FYI, I didn’t ditch you, neighbor, I just couldn’t see where I was going!” They sat down and we ended up talking, grilling, and drinking for a few hours, with a few others popping in and out of our firelit orbit.
Weirdly, it turns out that W knew X, mentioned earlier. We figured this out through a truly strange and unexpected coincidental relationship in Japan’s IT sector, and this interaction, so early in the Burning Japan experience, had all of the qualities of a serendipitous connection, a great start to an outstanding 4 days.
The whole time the campgrounds and surrounding forest were already sparkling with the interplay of artificial light, natural darkness, and the strange interlopers hovering in between. Lanterns and neon glided freely through the air controlled by deft hands only fleetingly attached by fishing line or string or rope. The DJs, still distant at Site A, were nevertheless playing their heady mix of eclectic and electric music that defied genre constraints loud enough that we could enjoy. A journey through landscapes, soundscapes, and mindscapes as diverse as the environment could allow was already underway, even though the grounds wouldn’t yet be filled that night.
Phase 4.1.2 - Trials
A crew of us headed out to Site A at around 130AM. There was a “shortcut” and then there was the long winding road that took about 10 minutes to walk up, and so we opted for the shortcut. We got lost by a misleading false road at first, and then realized that we needed to scale a winding footpath up a rather steep hill. This didn’t seem ideal, but as we hadn’t treaded it before and it was called a “shortcut” we figured it’d be worth it.
It wasn’t. The so-called shortcut may have been so as the crow flies, but for us bipeds, it wasn’t much more than a cruel joke. Hell, the damn trail begins with a false start, leading us to the left when it really should’ve taken us right. So we shuffled around in the flora for a bit trying to figure out if we were even on a path, and then decided to go back to look for where we went wrong.
We found it, of course, and lumbered along merrily even though the incline was rapidly climbing into a hill with a winding and often highly angled footpath going up it. Strangely, we had also heard that there was no shortcut the previous year, and that this was new, though it looked kind of well trodden, or at least like a boar run, to me.
Whatever. We scaled the damn thing in at least as long as it would’ve taken us to walk the road, and we arrived at around 2AM. But, being the 0th night and that 2 main stages were still being assembled, the party had already died down a good bit. That doesn’t mean there weren’t any attendees around, just that there was more neon/fire lit, alcohol-assisted conversation amongst the Just Arrived than there were revelers proper. That’d come later.
After an hour or two we left, back down to Site B but this time on the road, and got back to camp, where we passed around my guitar, some beers, and some wild laser displays before finally calling it a night and crawling into our respective tents to sleep.
Phase 4.2: November 3 - Day 1
Phase 4.2.1 - The Blood Rite
“Barbecue for breakfast?” Thinking about what food I brought as the near-noon light phased through my my tent’s orange and then red outer tarps, and how mostly all of it needs to be cooked over fire that I have to start. I didn’t want to do that immediately, so I rummaged around for something less effort-intensive, and landed on a can of salted mackerel. With that in hand, I ppfffzzzt’d out of my tent to a sunny scene of contentment, camaraderie, and cleanliness.
Sitting in one of my camp chairs, eating my chunk of fish, I lazily surveyed the grounds. I saw yoga groups, felt the autumnal sun on my skin, and heard the wind wisping through the pines. It was a fine scene, and I felt at ease. But I had finished my fish, and my stomach still growled. A can of preserved animal protein is not the breakfast I was looking for. No, this hunger demanded venison. So I set about chopping some wood.
Now, I brought chopped wood with me but while it wasn’t huge it was still the kind of stuff that’s good for fueling a fire that’s already going, but not for starting a fire. It was not kindling. I probably should’ve just scavenged, given that I was surrounded by an actual forest, but I had this wood already in front of me and also had brought a large axe just, you know, in case…
But that was way overkill! Unless intentionally trying to juxtapose extremes - and safely! - I don’t usually go for such outstandingly mismatched toolsets and objects to which I wish to apply them.
So, I opted for my nata, a kind of stout Japanese machete. In retrospect, the axe wood have been a better choice because as I was slicing up the nice wedges of wood into kindling with a hack hack hack of the hand blade, the blade got in the way of my hand and I really nicked the tip of my left index finger good.
The blood flowed - oh did it flow - but I had a rag and antiseptic handy, and was close to the water station, so I ran over there dripping specks of red ink hither and thither atop the still kind of pristine green grass. I went in as calm a manner as I could so as not to belie my bad aim, washed the sucker off, saw that it was, you know, a good gash but not flopping off or anything, so I doused it in isopropyl, wrapped it in some gauze and then medical tape that I had brought, and applied pressure for maybe 10 minutes. Blood flow halted, pain ceased, motion restored, pulse lowered, and all was back to as it was supposed to be. Emergency averted!
But. As I was walking away from the water station, a gnarly campgoer yelled over to me, “hey, lumberjack Jesus! You play guitar? We should jam!” And as I replied, “I do, and I’d love to! But I just cut the fuck out of my fretting hand!” it dawned on me: I had a concert to play on November 18th, and I was, then, at that moment, unable to fret! “Whatever will I do!?” I asked myself, and knew that I had only 1 option: keep that finger clean, properly wrapped, and out of harms way lest I pathetically duck out from the performance last minute because I can only handle a hatchet so well.
Author’s Note: As I’m writing this on November 9th, I’m happy to report that I have successfully played through the setlist without reopening the wound. Which goes to show: if you have a decent working knowledge of field dressing and come prepared, you, too, can inflict considerable damage upon yourself without catastrophic results.
Back to camp I went, still hungry and still intent on sating that hunger with a large chunk of grilled deer. I sat back down at my barbecue, where I had already, prior to the incident, fortunately chopped sufficient kindling, and started a fire.
Phase 4.2.2 - The Arrival
While I was rescuing myself from almost certain self-inflicted Doom once again, W had headed off to pick up X from whatever station it is they got off at. X had red-eyed it into Tokyo the previous day, and then bullet train’d it down on the first train available. This was no small feat, as the closest signs of civilization themselves were at least a 40 minute drive away. W’s pretty nice like that.
So there I am with my now-bandaged finger cooking a slab of flesh when W and X roll up, which I guess is what I would expect of a guy with my proclivities lol. We say our hellos and get to setting things up for X, and while that’s just a thing that friends do for each other, it’s also a very strong theme for the entire experience - unconditional, spontaneous assistance. It’s a good feeling when you’re in an environment that pretty reliably produces helpers for you if and when you need them.
Just around the time that we were getting everything wrapped up for X, one of the first of a string of merry purveyors of random goods stops in with a very large bag full of samples of Thai tea. They sat down and we got to talking about tea. Which isn’t my forté, but it sure was W’s and so I got to sit there and listen to some extremely granular conversation about strains of leaves and production methods that I had never imagined.
As the Tea Person was brewing samples, another, much larger tent was being set up in front of us, a real nice - proud, even - set up. One of those builds that makes you really wonder about living out of your car, and just set up shop where you please (and of course within the law and in consideration of local communities and etiquette). That visual input combined with the leafy anecdotes vibrating through the air, the warm, tannin-y brew running across my tongue, the crisp autumn air filling my nostrils was one of those all encompassing experiences that you get kind of lost in it.
Until, of course, something jars you from that dreamy state. This time around, it was the person who walked out from behind the magnificent camp being set up in front of my own, none-other than my good friend from Yggdrasil, Y, and their partner, Z. Yet again, I was immersed in the palpable gravity of the site that I had picked to set myself up on, actively witnessing the effects of the attractive energy that for whatever reason happened to cohabit the space that I willfully chose to exist in.
In extremely characteristic fashion, too, Y had brought two kegs of beer brewed at one of their preferred breweries in Kobe, and so once they had finished making camp, the flavor of the late afternoon quickly shifted from the tannic Thai teas we had started with to the pleasantly bitter hops of Japan as we sat around a grill full of local vegetables and wild meat enjoying our company and our shared experiences as the sun slowly breached the tree line.
Phase 4.2.3 - First Contact
And so we passed the early evening pleasantly, but this was the first real day of the party, and so once it became dark our desire to begin the dance grew. Knowing that costumes are a thing at events like this but also being somewhat cautious given that it was my first time attending, I packed a modest outfit of an onsen yukata and a single, cycloptic, iridescent sunglass.
I actually think it was a pretty good, even iconic, getup. Will probably stick with it next year.
Anyway, I went to my tent, got that outfit and changed into it eventually, taking care to also remove my shoes and unfurl my now-rather long hair, and the transformation to Space Jesus was completed without much hassle at all. I was now ready to be weird.
We were feeling pretty good after a full meal and a few beers, adventurous and spry, so we made the conscious decision to once again tackle the shortcut which was in reality no such thing at all. But it was more fun this time without shoes on and a cool breeze running through my robe, and our headlamps made it pretty easy to pick out most of the things I really didn’t want to step on. There were other partygoers on the trail as well, some faster than others, some off the trail more than others, most having undergone some kind of transformation into a fictitious creature, and various neon lights screaming all around.
And so where we entered the shortcut as a small cadre of friends, somewhere along the ascent we joined forces with the other groups and became a larger organism of novelty as we reached the summit of Site A.
Amidst the throb of bass and the laughter of newfound friends, it struck me that Burning Japan was more than just a festival—it was a microcosm of potentiality. Here, amidst the weirdos and tech enthusiasts, the artists and the wanderers, was a melting pot of ideas where transhumanism wasn't just discussed but was tangibly present, with tech-infused art and avant-garde performances that blurred the line between nature, human, and machine.
The woods themselves seemed to conspire in the magic, their canopy a cathedral under which one could not help but feel a sense of connection to something greater. It was as though the trees whispered ancient secrets, and all one needed to do was listen.
There’s not much to say about the rest of that night that you can’t already imagine. Grooves and sways and wreaths and laughter and firelight, seemingly infinite and ephemeral all at once, a moment that never begins or ends and which you can’t put your finger on except to immediately forget about it.
Phase 4.3: November 4 - Day 2
Phase 4.3.1 - Coalescence
The next morning, I woke to a bit of a clamor outside of my tent - not obnoxious, merely making its presence known - and that, along with my interest in tending to the chunk of flesh I had half-severed from my finger the previous day, was a good enough reason to arise and greet the day as well as The People.
Once more with the ppfffzzzt-ing of the zipper and the shhhwwwwp-ing of the tent flap, and there lay in front of me a tangle of friends attending to a few seemingly related projects involving their tents, backlit by the cheerful forest swaying in the breeze and a welcoming azure sky. Knowing that they would likely not disappear too quickly but that, if left uncared for, my fingertip may very well be not long for this plane of existence, I shambled over to the washing station to gingerly take a look at how my wound was progressing.
This turned out to be a slightly more involved process than I was expecting. In preparing my first-aid kit, I had purchased and included Band-Aid brand’s Hydro-Seal bandages, which I’ve used previously and was quite impressed by with their durability, notable adhesive strength, and seemingly improved healing power versus the standard fare. However, I had never tested them with anything more than a simple scrape, and this wound was anything but that. After the initial gauze treatment, I had applied one of these Hydro-Seals, and, up until now, been quite pleased with its performance.
I also had, from a young age when I was in one of those Father-Son American adventure bonding troupes that now have a less than PC name and so shall remain unmentioned here, been taught to regularly tend to injuries by washing and rebandaging them regularly, and so I set about doing just that. The problem, though, was just how good these damn bandages were. In trying to remove it in order to cleanse my cut, I quickly noticed that it was not coming off very quickly and that, goddamn, if I were to really peel it off, it would rip the wound open again.
Being aware that I was planning on staying another 2 days, this seemed like a great way to open myself up to infection in that time, and so I made an executive decision to leave it on, trusting that Band-Aid knew what they were doing.
Now that I had sufficiently assessed the situation, I made my way back to camp, where the commotion of rearrangement now made much more sense and had taken form. You see, W, X, Y, Z, myself, and the various wayward travelers had really centered on my camp the night before to congregate, but each of their sites hadn’t been centered on any one focal point. Today, in the daylight and out of the haze of alcohol and dancing, they had made the logical decision to reposition themselves around my own station, creating what might be considered a neighborhood.
This, let it be known, is precisely what I had imagined to serendipitously happen at “burns,” though I didn’t think the focal point would be me. Eschewing any pride or ego-boost or whatever I felt from that, I thought it was fucking cool that the thing that I had heard about - which may or may not seem mundane - was indeed happening not even in front of me, but with me.
So we spent a good bit repositioning ourselves, now with all of our tents next to and facing each other in a circle, with the beer kegs over on one side, the grill in the middle, a cackle of camp chairs surrounding it, and a big ol’ boombox that W had produced now droning on with some very infectious Psytrance.
Once complete, we were a bit knackered, and got back to grilling and drinking in the soft afternoon light. Folx drifted in and out, and we also exited our own gravity well to go toast and mingle with the rest of the burners. One of the camps that I was curious about prior to The Burn, Camp Gumbo (yes, their thing was making gumbo), was situated a 3 minute or so walk away from us, and I had a real strong hunger for something that at least resembled chili, so I meandered on over there to see what was up.
There was a crew of 4 tending to their well-assembled kitchen site, and I guess because I was walking with intent they spotted me from a bit of a distance and gestured for me to come on over. I gestured back gregariously, and quickened my pace as the scents of their preparations reached my nose.
We exchanged pleasantries, identifying where we were all from (all over), how many times we had been to Burning Japan (me for the first time, them for 8 years), how we got there (car, duh), etc., exchanged drinks (they had wine, I had brought a few bottles of beer), and then got down to business (Gumbo).
To say that their sweetly boiling stew was enticing is to do a disservice to it; there, before me, was a glorious pot of potatoes and tomatoes, okra and bokra, sausage and onion and carrots. A real hearty meal for, say 30 at that moment, roiling happily away atop a Craftsman stove. They plated some up for me, handed me a spoon, and soon enough the flavors of the wild Earth we stood upon were swimming around in my mouth pleasantly, playfully, to the tune of human chatter and camaraderie and simple existence. A real treat.
But.
On sampling these delicious flavors all intertwined, heavenly ambrosia of Terra, I realized something: I had a metric fuck ton of prime boar and venison to somehow consume in the next 36 hours, which was a task I knew that I and my crew were not capable of alone, and that this, at my inaugural Burn, was my calling: to share with those hundred or so beautiful people in my immediate surroundings, via Camp Gumbo’s skillful preparations, the yield of The Hunt of Yugawara.
And so I said this to the People of Gumbo: “I am in possession of a cornucopia of wild boar meat, heart, and liver; deer steaks and sausages. Nearly 10 kilograms in total. Can you, my fine friends, make use of this, for the benefit of all?” And their eyes did indeed light up.
I quickly finished the ample helping of now-not-yet-perfect gumbo they had kindly given me, and bolted back to my campsite. I told my crew the Good News, that a merry band of chefs had accepted my offer and that I needed to provide them with the unique goods in my cooler posthaste, to which X stood upright immediately - as W was chopping wood and Y and Z were sitting suggestively close to the beer tap - and offered to help me lug the products over.
Together we carried the packages of protein back to the Gumbo Palace, and presented it humbly. A single Gumboite, slight in form but wielding a mighty knife and standing confidently in front of a makeshift butcher’s table, graciously accepted and quickly got to work, expertly manipulating the cuts with their blade to make more bite sized chunks to throw into the pot.
An already long description made a bit shorter, we enjoyed a few drinks with the Gumbesians while the stew was being prepared, discussing so many topics I can’t possibly recount here, watching the clouds pass overhead, listening to the sounds of the world around us, and then it was done: they produced a large pot (but not as large as the main pot) of the Gamey Gumbo for us, complete and wholesome. We thanked them, and hustled back over to our camp to enjoy as the sun set.
Phase 4.3.2 - Empyreal
The 5 of us sat in front of that fire eating, drinking, and blasting an über powerful blue laser across the universe for some hours, enjoying the peace provided by the sylvan setting and the comfort provided by our own company, patchwork as it was. But it soon got to be time for us to once again enter the fold, for that night was planned the eponymous Burn - an effigy of some proportions staged in the center of camp and scheduled to be immolated as a marker of some unspoken or unknowable sign of joint humanity.
Straight up, one of the coolest sounds I have ever heard is an actual Hunting Horn being sounded in the middle of a mountain forest. Its immediate presence fills your ears, then echoes across the rocky terrain, bouncing off of this and that jagged surface, some sound waves to continue off into infinity and others to bounce back towards you. Those that do, diffuse, along their return journey, amongst the trees, obfuscating the source signal but also creating a complimentary drone, and all of this happens in milliseconds, such that when it all comes back to your cochlea - especially whilst staring into a fire at night - it riles not just your conscious self but your subconscious soul.
And so, without putting words in the rest of my crew’s mouths, we were rousted from our fireside perch, called to where we could only surmise the transitory sound was emanating from. Well, actually, that’s overstating things a bit - the Hunting Horn was blasting away from, I don’t know, 200 meters or so away from us, still in Site B, basically at the front.
So we meandered over to to the burn site, where all of the festival goers had gathered, just in time for the phoenix to be lit. As the central effigy burned, a symbol of impermanence and renewal, I felt a profound sense of release. Surrounded by a crowd of faces illuminated by the flames, there was an unspoken understanding that we were all part of this ephemeral moment, a fleeting instance of unity in the flow of time.
And from there, the night extended into multiple spaces and times, a confluence of different dimensions all brought together by the mysterious energy that Burning Japan spectacularly bathed us all in. There was the Robot DJ, dancing along to the eclectic range of sounds they were spinning for us all; Diggie Pink, whirling around to the ephemeral tunes and rhyming in her aggressively bright outfit; the aliens smoking shisha at the mountaintop beach overlooking Mt. Fuji; and so many more. I’ve written a lot already about it, but truly words - or at least not mine - can’t do it justice.
Phase 4.4: November 5 - Day 3
Waking the next morning, I was astounded at how quickly the camp had already packed up. A fleeting experience, indeed, just as soon as it had reached its zenith it began to unravel itself.
We got a slow start, again around our camp’s barbecue, leisurely eating and packing at the same time to the psytrance soundtrack we had established as our unique sonic signature. After a bit and having finished my own pack, I walked the long road down to the parking lot to get my car. Others were more intent on either staying the last night, or at a hotel within an hour’s drive of the site, but I needed to drop my things off in Yugawara and then get back up to Tokyo for the next day’s business, so I loaded in, said my good byes, and headed out.
I’m not one to hype stereotypes because Japan can definitely get very dirty and the stories about fans cleaning up stadiums and whatnot don’t describe the entire situation at all, but driving through the camp towards the exit, I couldn’t help but notice how clean, pristine even, the site looked despite the revelry that had just wrapped. It was an endearing, and encouraging, exit to an unforgettable experience that I’ll surely be back to.
The teachings of Burning Japan were subtle yet profound. They were found in the openness of the participants, the freedom of expression, the willingness to both teach and learn, and the embrace of the unexpected. It was a place where societal norms were left at the entrance, and one could explore the depths of their being without fear of judgment.
Leaving Burning Japan, I carry with me not just memories of the palpable energy and vibrant community but also a renewed sense of what it means to be alive, to have the world around you vibrate through your own existence and confirm, one through the other and back again, that the universe is a bright and beautiful thing. The festival may have lasted only a few days, but the sparks it ignited in my mind and assuredly in others’, the ideas it fostered, and the connections it cultivated are some that I’ll value for the rest of my life.
Burning Japan, in all its chaotic beauty, is a testament to the power of community and creativity, the things that I always play with and am humbled to say that, of a few of them, I belong to. It is a beacon for those seeking to step out of the shadow of conformity and into the light of the extraordinary. It stands as a reminder that within each of us burns a fire waiting to be unleashed - in as wild form, or subtle, as you may like - to light up the world in a spectacle of wonder and warmth.
Indeed, in writing this, I can't help but feel a twinge of gratitude for that chance encounter back in 2016. Little did I know, the twitchy guy at the bar was the herald to an adventure that would leave an indelible mark on my soul. And to think, it all began with a misunderstood whisper of "burning Japan."
Newsworthy
Phew. Alright. Got through that part. The important part. But I also like quipping, as well as highlighting little wins or neat happenings going on in my life, so without further ado, here’s a bunch of stuff!
Camp MKUltra Expansion 001
SO. I’ve been wanting to do a camping group retreat thing for a while, but hadn’t gotten around to it. Fortunately, Burning Japan had a very positive impact on me, so I finally pulled the trigger on this concept and here we are, Camp MKUltra.
I’ve had a lot of clients come down to Yugawara and really have a cathartic and horizon expanding experience, both in terms of business operations as well as personal reflection. Escaping the city is truly, magickally valuable, and so I’m excited to see who I can get participating in this.
Only 4 spots total at ¥8,000 a pop, including game meat (boar, venison, maybe some special guests), local Yugawara craft beer, and rental cost.
2024 New Years Cards
My longtime drummer (currently with Worship Pain, also in the past with Retch and Darkcorpse), graphic designer, and good friend Thom releases a set of New Years cards every year based on the upcoming zodiac sign, and this is the one for 2024, the Year of the Dragon.
Unique works that definitely can’t be found anywhere else, if yr sending out seasons’ greetings this year, buy a set of these and see how yr friends and family react!
Blood Rite 20 Locked In!
It has gotten really easy to book with Earthdom over in Shinjuku, so much so that I’m starting to worry a bit about it, but hey, great venue, great price, great reputation, and the only downside is really awful bathrooms, so why knock it?
On February 25 over at Earthdom, we’ll be hosting a pretty diverse collection of extreme bands, from Black Metal, to Death Metal, to Doom, we managed to cover a lot of bases with this one.
Bands
Worship Pain
My band. Black metal with a lot of hardcore inspiration. Listen to the new album, Starless, Endless.
Presence of Soul
Presence of Soul are one of the most powerful… presences… in Doom I think I’ve heard since Corrupted, which is a helluva statement for those of you unfamiliar with that absolutely sledgehammer of a band. I also almost mentioned SubRosa, but this is a different breed of Doom, a much darker one with little redemption.
I actually first became aware of Presence of Soul while attending the inaugural Togakushi Death Fest, where Akira the Black Metal Pizza Guy from Bar Koutetsuya introduced me to Yuki, Presence’s vocalist and keyboardist, who overheard me talking about Yugawara, where their drummer, Satoru, lives.
Invictus
Death metal darlings of Nagano, Invictus has been heavily making the rounds since the scene opened back up in August of last year. They’re usually on Obliteration bills, who we’re also good buds with, so it’s a real pleasure to finally get them onto one of our stages!
Dogo
Totally chuffed to have Dogō on board, not just because they’re a powerful force to reckon with, but because of the thunderous blasts of their drummer, the legendary Ironfist Tatsushima of G.I.S.M. Landing them is a particular point of pride for me.
New Spotlight on JP Vinyl: Ryuichi Sakamoto
I’ve written about Ryuichi Sakamoto’s quintessential Japanese prog/pop/rock band, Yellow Magic Orchestra before, but his legacy is far more than just that band. An excerpt:
Sakamoto's formal education in music began at the prestigious Tokyo National University of Fine Arts and Music. Here, he delved deep into the realms of music composition, ethnomusicology, and, crucially, electronic music. This period was pivotal, as it allowed Sakamoto to blend his classical training with his growing interest in the burgeoning field of electronic sounds.
His studies weren't just academic; they were a journey into the vast and varied traditions of world music. From the traditional sounds of Japan and Okinawa to the rhythms of India and Africa, Sakamoto absorbed a world of musical influences, enriching his understanding and appreciation of global music cultures.
Leisure & Outdoor Japan Expo 2023
I’ve been working with Dominic Carter of market research firm CarterJMRN on a few special projects, which is a real blast. Exploring the boundaries of business is, ostensibly, my calling, and Dom’s got a real appetite for experimenting with novel concepts and edge use cases, so it’s a pleasure.
One of those projects has been bringing over advanced holographic projection experiences from Australia, and we recently showcased one experience at the Leisure & Outdoor Expo Japan 2023 out at Tokyo Big Sight.
Until Next Time
I have a lot of adventures all around Japan, but I do think that Burning Japan is one of the bigger ones I’ve had in a little bit. Like a year or so. Maybe more. Probably more. And those big adventures are great, really shock yr system into appreciating everything you’ve got - the resources and the connections and the knowledge - but they’re not the only ones that matter, though they are spectacular.
The ones that are easy to downplay or miss altogether, though, are arguably the most important, and definitely the smallest. What I’m trying to get around to is, the small, everyday miracles around each of us are equally deserving of attention, praise, and gratitude as it is the massive ones. So keep an eye out!