Christmas and the New Year are upon us. Among the good memories of my first year in my new house, are those of all the people from a variety of countries who’ve spent at least one night here.  I feel so blessed to have had so many bright-eyed young folks stay over—from Hungary, China, Sri Lanka, and Korea.

Yes, of course, we took them all hiking.

They didn’t seem to mind so much.

I’m also lucky to have the opportunity at my job to meet people from all over: Indonesia, Thailand, Slovokia, Viet Nam, Malaysia, Brazil.

A week or so ago, I hosted a lecture by a magnificent Japanese painter, Nobuaki-san, who explained how he had moved from painting still lifes to painting people’s faces. It was a fascinating talk.

Near the end, he told us that he couldn’t paint a person until he felt he understood who they were and what they were about. I asked him how exactly he went about doing that. After all, he was living in Ghana at the time he started focusing on portraits—and with ordinary spoken language, at least, could hardly communicate with his models at all.

He said it was easy, and just took a few seconds. He said he could see who they were by looking into their eyes. He said when he looked into their eyes, he could see their souls. At least with children and elderly folks, he said, it was usually pretty easy.

Some folks may think that sounds a little dreamy, but I think it is about as real as it gets.

I knew exactly what he meant. You can see people’s souls in their eyes. I saw it in the eyes of all those folks who visited my house, all those who have joined us on the mountains.

I sometimes read on Facebook how important it is for us (any us will do) to identify the enemy clearly. I wonder. It seems to me that that’s the best way to create more enemies. Look for something hard enough, and you’ll surely find it.

For better or worse, I’ll choose to keep looking into eyes—and meeting all those fellow souls.

And I hope to have more visitors in the year to come. And I hope to take them all up into the mountains, maybe along a ridge, or up a slope, where we can look over our shoulder and see, at any moment, our dear friend, Fuji, trudging along with us.

I haven’t met anyone yet who doesn’t like having Fuji-kun along on a hike. Actually, that’s one of the best times to gaze into their eyes.

A few days ago, I told Shizuoka Duo about these thoughts of mine. Here’s what they gave me back. I love those guys. I wish, though, that they’d stop using that recording studio  they keep in one of their back pockets.

Happy holidays.

WE

We’ve gathered here at Christmas time from all around the globe.

We look into each other’s eyes—we see no xenophobes.

Together we can feel so much hope.

Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope. Ho-o-ope.

In your eyes I see a light that really, really shines.

Makes me feel that all of us are something quite divine.

You’ve got me feeling mighty fine.

Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fi-i-ine.

Sri Lanka and Germany might be represented here.

Malaysia and Shizuoka’s spirit is feeling awful near.

What can you possibly see that anyone would ever have to fear?

Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fe-ea-ear.

Maybe we’ve got some Christians here, a couple of Muslims, too.

A Buddhist, a Hindi, might be sitting next to you.

You are they, and they are you, you know it’s oh so true.

True. True. True. True. Tru-u-ue.

People from Indonesia might be here by chance.

From China, Florida, Vietnam, Ghana and France.

From Thailand and Slovokia, it makes me want to dance.

Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance. Da-an-ance.

Well, I’m really just so happy that you are sitting here with me.

So look into my eyes and tell me what you see.

I see you and you see me—and we are really we.

We. We. We. We. We-ee-ee.