Today, I would like to introduce Seikan Kobayashi, a Japanese travel writer and lecturer known for explaining complex ideas through very simple structures. One of the concepts he often speaks about is 見方道 (mikata-dō), which can be translated as “the way of seeing”—the idea that how we look at something is what truly matters.

One of my favorite examples from his talks is a story about a glass containing water. It is a remarkably simple example, yet it questions how we interpret our lives and experiences.

Interpretation as a System, Not a Moral Choice

Imagine a glass that can hold 100 cc of water.
Inside it, there are 50 cc.

This statement is purely descriptive. It contains no evaluation, no implication of success or failure, and no emotional direction. It simply describes a state.

However, the moment a human observer encounters this state, interpretation begins.

• “There is only half left.”
• “There is still half remaining.”
• “Someone left this much for me.”

From a systems perspective, nothing external has changed. The data—50 cc of water in a 100 cc container—remains exactly the same. What differs is the internal processing applied to that data.

Seikan Kobayashi emphasizes that much of what we experience as emotion, satisfaction, or dissatisfaction does not arise from events themselves, but from this interpretive layer added by the observer.

This is not a psychological claim in a therapeutic sense. Rather, it is a structural observation: phenomena do not carry intrinsic labels.

Phenomena as Neutral Inputs

Throughout his work, Seikan Kobayashi repeatedly returns to the idea that events are fundamentally neutral. Weather, numbers, outcomes, and even life circumstances appear without embedded meaning. Meaning is applied afterward.

Rain falls.
We call it unfortunate—or welcome.

A number increases or decreases.
We call it progress—or failure.

The phenomenon itself remains unchanged.

This distinction can be understood as a separation between state and evaluation. The state exists independently. Evaluation is a function applied to that state by the observer.

This separation becomes especially clear when Kobayashi connects the glass-of-water example to the Buddhist concept of 色即是空 (Shiki Soku Ze Kū).

色即是空 (Shiki Soku Ze Kū), Explained Structurally

色即是空 is often translated as “form is emptiness,” a phrase that is frequently perceived as abstract or metaphysical. Seikan Kobayashi’s interpretation is slightly different and more structural.

He does not treat 空 (kū) as “nothingness” or “nonexistence.”
Instead, he understands it as “not inherently defined.”

In this framework:

• 色 (shiki, “form”) refers to phenomena as they are perceived—colors, shapes, quantities, sensations.
• 空 (kū) refers to the fact that these phenomena do not possess fixed meaning on their own.

In other words, phenomena exist, but their meaning is not intrinsic. It is assigned.

The glass exists.
The water exists.
The quantity exists.

What does not exist inherently are labels such as “good,” “bad,” “enough,” or “insufficient.”

These are interpretive overlays.

From this perspective, 色即是空 does not deny reality. Instead, it describes the absence of built-in semantics. Reality exists, but without labels. Labels are supplied by the mind.

This aligns directly with the glass example. The water level is 色 (shiki). The judgment about it does not belong to the phenomenon itself—it is added afterward.

Interpretation as a Universal Mechanism

Seikan Kobayashi argues that this structure applies universally, not selectively. It is not limited to dramatic events or emotional experiences. It applies to everything.

Age is one example he often mentions.

“Already 40” and “still 40” refer to the same numerical state. The difference lies entirely in interpretation.

From a logical standpoint, both statements are equally unsupported by the data itself. The number 40 does not imply lack or abundance. It simply exists.

The same logic applies to success, failure, health, productivity, and even happiness.

Happiness as an Emergent Label

Seikan Kobayashi avoids defining happiness as a goal or a condition. Instead, he treats it as an emergent label—something that appears only when a person applies it.

Happiness, in this view, is not a state stored in the world. It does not accumulate as circumstances improve. It appears only at the moment someone recognizes it.

This is consistent with the structure of 色即是空. If phenomena have no inherent meaning, then happiness cannot be embedded in events. It must arise from interpretation.

A glass of water can be happiness.
Or it can be irrelevant.
Or it can feel insufficient.

The glass does not decide.

No Prescription, Only Visibility

Importantly, Seikan Kobayashi does not present this as advice. He does not argue that people should choose positive interpretations. He simply points out that interpretation is always happening, whether we notice it or not.

Once this mechanism becomes visible, the world does not necessarily change. Events continue to occur. Water levels rise and fall. Outcomes remain unpredictable.

What changes is the recognition that meaning is not delivered by reality itself.

Reality presents data.
The mind assigns labels.

This understanding does not demand optimism. It does not require gratitude. It does not promise improvement.

It simply clarifies the architecture.

The glass remains on the table.
The water remains inside.

And quietly, without instruction, a question appears:

How do you take it?
Is it enough—or not enough?

Thank you for reading.