The Perfect Day
“There are people with cancer and people in prisons experiencing happiness
even under those conditions. So, why not you?” -Anthony DeMello
No one likes cleaning toilets. It’s the kind of chore that, if we’re able, we get other people to do. That’s the remarkable force behind the new movie, “Perfect Days,” where we meet Hirayama, who cleans public toilets in Tokyo. He’s maybe in his 50’s, lives alone in a tiny apartment, wakes at dawn, neatly rolls up his sleeping mat, brushes his teeth, meticulously grooms his mustache, then slips on his blue coveralls with “TOKYO TOILETS” emblazoned on his back, opens his front door, steps outside, takes one deep breath, and smiles. Inexplicably, Hirayama is delighted with this day!
On his way to work he’s listening to cassette tapes of Nina Simone and the Velvet Underground. But in a moment we see him on his knees, his blue latex-gloved hands wiping down a urinal. As meticulously as he grooms himself, he wipes down every surface, picks up small bits of trash from the floor, re-stocks the toilet paper. I find myself deeply incredulous—this can’t be right. But I keep watching him do this, day after day, see the way people are attracted to his light and joy. It’s never clear how Hirayama ended up in this job, but when we meet his (unhappy) sister near the end, it’s clear he comes from a well-off family.
Hirayama is heroic, but he’s real. There is a passage when his fellow workers don’t show up for work and he is forced to clean all his toilets, and theirs too. He gets stressed, anxious and loses his balance. But he finds his way back to joy.
Two days after seeing “Perfect Days,” I was cleaning toilets. In addition to leading reflection and meditation groups, it’s part of my job in the retreat center that my wife and I run. There are three bathrooms, and they have to be cleaned and then spot checked all day long. I don’t like the work, but that day as I wiped down a toilet seat, I remembered Hirayama and started to laugh. Could I do this with his kind of joy? Probably not. Not for my only job, my whole life.
One reason for our unhappiness—especially those of us with “everything we need”—is our insistence on a life without the toilet parts, without the dirt, without others’ dirt. The surprising inspiration of a character like Hirayama is his loving acceptance of shit. It reminds me of Jesus, on his knees, washing people’s feet, doing the job all the fancy people got servants to do. And yet: they’re not happy, and he’s radiant.
P.S. The film takes its name from a Lou Reed song, “The Perfect Day,” which Hirayama listens to coming home from work one day. Watch the film, for sure. But if you don’t know Lou Reed—I didn’t—put him on your playlist.
David, “Take A Walk on the Wild Side!” It’s a Lou Reed classic I’m sure you’ve heard it.
I remember trying to give my sister this “perspective” perspective while she was fighting through depression and she said, This makes me feel worse.” lol. And I get what she meant. How can this toilet cleaner POSSIBLY be happy when my sister busted her tail in school, got a full scholarship to UNC, traded bonds for Goldman Sachs (GOLDMAN SACHS), retired along with her husband (ran his own hedge fund) in her early 40’s and was miserable?! And then I got severely depressed and well-meaning people would show me ALL I had that I SHOULD be happy for – and it made me feel worse too! lol. And it was a good lesson for both of us – much of my depression centered on getting divorced and trying to figure out how I could provide for an ex-wife, a new wife, a new baby and 3 teenage children headed to college. What I did learn is it’s all about the journey and the miserable 2 years this consumed me gave me (drum roll) perspective (and a good chuckle I was so sure I wouldn’t make it to the other side)! I love Hirayama (I wonder what miseries he faced to get there), he’s my hero and I can’t wait to watch the film!
Well, yes–I knew “Take a Walk on the Wild Side,” but that’s about it. I didn’t know he was part of the Velvet Underground, and how he was incredibly influential in the music world–and yet he himself was never a superstar. Just started listening to some of his albums.
I’m glad you shared that, Matt. One thing I didn’t want to do was present a heroic, almost unbelievably awake and alive character like Hirayama and say–“If HE can be happy, your problems are far less and you should be happy too.” That never really works–to compare your situation to someone else’s. I wanted to zero in on the mainspring of this kind of joy, which seems to be a capacity for including the suffering along with the pleasure. And that can’t be accomplished by just comparing your life to someone in worse shape. That can only be accomplished by a spiritual discipline of opening ourselves each moment of each day to whatever comes to us–and not immediately judging what’s good and bad, what we will accept and what we have to reject, and just dropping all our demands. I don’t do that very well, and it’s hard to do, but I know it’s the path.
that’s an amazing response David, thank you!
Just watched the trailer for Perfect Days and added it to our family watch list. It looks terrific. We could all take a page from Hirayama’s book…finding joy and meaning in the mess. Thank you for this, David!
Good–you’ll enjoy the film. I watched it twice.
Sounds like the movie gave you a double gift, David. Lou Reed is phenomenal! If you don’t believe me, ask Chuck Jones.
Thanks–I believe you–don’t need to ask Chuck!
Nothing that is life-giving comes without work, mess, and shit. I guess if I reverse that, all three are entrances to life – maybe not the only ones, but the ones that can get almost all of us there. Thanks, David!
That first line of yours—CLASSIC!
David, love this celebration of physicality and work.
There was a man named Burt, the janitor at First Baptist, Geneva (way, way back in my Wheaton days) who embodied this. I recall how he methodically polished the basement floors. How he followed the tile-lines as he went back and forth, back and forth. It seemed he was in no hurry to finish the job. Year after year he did this. And to this day, when I think of Bravo the Humdrum (Tom Howard’s book) I think of Burt, his humdrum holy polishing.
This morning as I made the bed I was thinking of your post, and of Burt and decided to do it his way, giving attention to every movement. When it was done, I took my hand and ran it over the duvet cover, standing back to check it out, like an artist at a canvas.
And I think now how strange the saying: This morning, I made the bed.
Thanks for the example of Burt—reminds me of the verse, “whatsoever you do, whether you eat or drink or whatever you do—do all to the glory of God.” That’s like “pray without ceasing.” There’s no way to do that without a new mind, a new consciousness. Then things like making a bed or cleaning a floor can be passages to beauty.
So good, David, and all of the comments, too. This year I have been consistently reminded of the fact that, for lack of a better way to put it, we can live a dual reality. It is possible, and maybe a gift, to suffer (grieve, be depressed…fill in the blank) and experience joy or peace – to hold them both at the same time. It’s a little unnerving to keep getting this truth but hopeful.
Well, what you’re describing isn’t exactly a dual reality—but a single reality that is able to hold in tension two apparently opposing realities. You’re right—it’s unnerving to sit in that tension, but when we can be in that place we join Hirayama and Jesus.
Thank you for saying better what I was grappling with.
You made me want to see this.I don’t get out to theaters very often.but is it on line orTV?Sometimes you have to be patient–+ something you helped me with.
I don’t get to Bucks County. But my gravesite is at Trinity with my parents and Albert and Audrey.
Keep on writing.,
Joan Worthington
Joan—nice to hear from you! Hope you’re well, and always good to hear of Trinity. Where are you now?