Privacy and Drinking Tea from an Empty Cup

I recently read Shogun by James Clavell. It's a great historical romp through Japan during the height of the Tokugawa shogunate. A lot of the events happened, but liberties (historical inaccuracies) were taken to make it more exciting. The names are changed. The Christian rebellion occured in 1638 and not in 1600 as the book implies. There are a lot of other mistakes, but it's thoroughly enjoyable. Getting a minor in history does have its downsides, like remembering the tiniest details about a certain era.

It seems as if I have mastered several vital skills necessary to build what the Japanese call "wa," a term that roughly translates to "harmony" or "inner peace." Which is quite ironic, as I doubt that I have any inner peace of any sort. I find myself more confused than anything else. Some day, I'm not sure who I am. Who as in, not my name, but the more deeper who as in identity.

I've built up my walls of privacy. I can recess within myself and block out everything. I once became oblivious to a hailstorm and I was outside. In the rain. It wasn't until someone told me that there was hail that I actually noticed anything.
If I didn't block everything out, I'd go mad. Then again, because I have built up all of these walls, I am going mad also. It's so easy to fool people with the facade of smiles and kindness, the easy-going nature, the bursts of extroversion and sociability. We all deceive people. Some people fool the whole world. Some deceive certain people. A lot deceive themselves. I'm probably one of those who deceive themselves and a lot of other people. For some people, I am honest to them, as I trust them. Trust is hard for me to give.
But the hardest thing is to maintain this deception. From the time I leave my house till the time I get home, I maintain this. It gets tiring too often. I'm drained after I attend parties or other social events. Everything else that happens around me while I am in this little private world is a million miles away. I wonder how I manage to function sometimes. And yet, I keep on putting up the facade.

I can drink tea from an empty cup pretty well. It's quite astonishing that I can do so quite regularly. You have to imagine reality into an empty cup and sip it. It's easy, but difficult to do. To describe the feeling is hard to do. Best put, it gives meaning to life in a strange way.
Supposedly, if you can do that, you can find perfect tranquillity. I don't seem to have found this, even though I can drink tea from an empty cup quite well. Those who have done it say it comes easiest when you are extremely lonely or sad. Well, I must be the loneliest/saddest person out there. Or I can concentrate very well. Or I am good at imagining false reality into a cup. Any of those possibilities is depressing is some manner.

That's all for now. Time for me to drink tea from an empty cup again and to see if I find any inner peace.