About These Posts

Each day I add a new journal entry to my social media feeds. Here, I take that day’s entry and expand it through the lens of my Good Life Creed, which you can read about in my book Going Alone (available for free on this website). These dissections aim to connect ordinary reflections with the enduring objectives and principles of the Creed.

Journal Entry (10/13/25)

I had no journal entry or Retiring in Japan video yesterday, as I spent the day preparing for a possible return to the United States. My help may be needed there—for reasons that aren’t mine to share—and I wanted to be ready, should that call come. In the end, I was asked to hold off, and so for now, I remain quietly on standby.

The practical preparations were straightforward enough: travel logistics, documents, finances, transportation. But as I worked through the details, I realized that what I was really preparing for wasn’t a simple trip—it was the possibility of being called back “home.” And as an expatriate, especially one growing older, that’s no small thing. A brief visit is easy enough, but what if the stay stretches into weeks, months, or even longer? What if the life I’ve built so carefully here in Japan must pause, waiting for me to return from a chapter I hadn’t planned to write?

The practical questions came first: where I’d stay, how I’d get around, what I’d do for healthcare in a country where I no longer have insurance. Then came the quieter ones—how our home here would fare, how Yumiko and the dogs would manage, and how long life in Japan could continue smoothly without me. Retirement may have freed me from the obligations of work, but not from the web of responsibilities that tie one life to another, across oceans and years.

By the end of the day, I had what I needed: a plan to go, and a plan to stay. The first ensures I can be in California within seventy-two hours if I’m needed. The second assures me that, should the stay become long, I know how to manage it with steadiness and care. These two plans—one for departure, one for duration—feel like necessary companions now, the quiet infrastructure of a life lived between worlds.

Dissection

This entry reflects the discipline of calm readiness—the quiet art of maintaining composure when life may pull in opposite directions. Beneath the logistical considerations lies an exercise in Stoic self-command: preparation without anxiety, engagement without attachment. It is a portrait of steady awareness in the face of possible disruption.

The Creed resonates here in three particular ways:

#Balance (The Principle of Balance)

This reflection embodies emotional and rational equilibrium—neither leaning toward anxiety nor drifting into complacency. The dual planning represents a state of poised moderation, where action and restraint are held in equal measure.

#Temperance (The Principle of Temperance)

Temperance appears in the disciplined calm that meets uncertainty. Rather than dramatizing or dismissing potential change, the response is measured, patient, and well within self-imposed limits.

#Uphill (The Uphill Climb)

Here is the spirit of endurance—the slow, deliberate ascent that defines a life lived in preparation. Readiness itself becomes the climb: the ongoing act of moving forward, even when that motion is internal.

Takeaway

Preparation is more than a practical exercise; it is a philosophical posture. To be both ready to go and ready to stay is to live without resistance to what may come—to occupy the space between action and stillness with composure. In this balance lies the essence of temperance: a quiet willingness to face whatever horizon next appears.