“What is your dream?â€
“I don’t have one.â€
And without exception, I get that reaction that looks like they just smelt a rotten egg.
Don’t get me wrong, here. I think reaching for things and dreaming dreams is great, but a lot of dreams are over-estimated, over-valued and over-glorified simply because dreams are too small nowadays, involving just one person – Me-Me-Me.
When did being successful begin to mean being just rich and famous? And once you are rich and famous are you entitled to do whatever you want to do? If you are a public figure aren’t you supposed to have social responsibility?
But who am I to mumble? I have sold my artistic soul to the Money Devil before.
I grew up in the bubble economy of the ‘80s in Japan: the Jazz Age of Tokyo. In those days by working just a little, I made money – enough money to buy just about anything. I owned three Chanel suits before I turned seventeen. I had many friends to party with. We were all bored and exhilarated. We wanted more of everything. We were at liberty. We didn’t have low self-esteem or shyness to overcome. We had arts education in our school, and there we played, performed and recited on stage. And when we finished school our generation took over. The entire world was our stage.
Then came the summer of ’89 and Tiananmen Square. The Chinese government tanks chasing after their own people, and we watched it all on live coverage. I was at that age when I criticized everything around me —parents, teachers, friends and government. I despised and felt ashamed of Japanese history. I wished I were Swedish, like Heidi.
Then I saw those tanks. “Hey,†I thought, “even Tojo didn’t go that far!â€
If our neighbors, the Chinese, only 1300 miles away could be bulldozed by government tanks, how could we just sit around drinking from a champagne tower at a wrap party after a show?
As a child I was taught to be a responsible member of society before I experienced the pleasures of life. On that day in 1989, my genetic Zen mind kicked in. Pleasure, I realized, is an illusion. The bottom line Zen thinking rang true: Life sucks.
The gay 80’s were over. We exhausted ourselves by having too much fun. We felt insignificant and wanted to escape our self-centered universe. We wanted to get out from what we were; clueless spoiled brats. We had it all, but somehow at the same time, we were hopeless. When I first decided to move to the States, the American dream meant the freedom to maximize my abilities, whatever abilities they may be.
I was ready to become a pioneer, like the white man in the movie “The Razor’s Edge.†If that dude, played by a beautiful Tyron Power, could travel to the Orient to soul search, this Oriental could go search for her soul in the West.
Well, actually, I just wanted to live under the California sun, and besides, I’ve never met anyone who went off to soul search and came back with one. The soul is like the brain – if you don’t have one, you cannot get one.
Still, I left Tokyo to make more discoveries. I didn’t have any goals to accomplish. My bohemian brain cannot think long term.
I believe in reaching up and trying for things, but goal setting is meaningful only if along the way one’s personality and integrity grows. You don’t need to be what you are not if what you are doing makes you happy. Chasing dreams sometimes seems to me like a dog chasing a car – what do you do once you catch it? If a dog is smart enough, he can navigate his way to Petco to get some dog cookies using a credit card left in a car. But most of dogs aren’t that smart. Animals think about survival first, while humans think about thriving. What if we spend all the energy we use attacking and destroying others to nurture and connect with others? What moving here taught me was it’s good people around you who make your life worth living.
I want to keep believing in bright hearts, like the heart Dr. Martin Luther King had.
If I have to name one dream, I want to leave a society where being a good person is good enough and considered successful.
