02.2024
This month began with a sacred ritual, and along with the chill of winter, I felt my body enveloped by an almost spiritual aura. When I listen closely to the sound of the air, I can sense, however faintly, the presence of spring within it. Perhaps it’s because the days are growing longer, and I find myself gazing at the blue sky more often.
Rocking gently on a train, my mind wandered as I thought about the concept of distance. There’s something both achingly sorrowful and deeply endearing about it. In my immaturity, I tend to lose sight of myself when my perspective narrows. Lacking composure, I sometimes let slip words I don’t truly mean to those I hold dear. Even though I pride myself on having a firm axis and clear principles, I find myself in this sorry state. I must admit that I am weak and fragile to my very core.
Yet, it is precisely because of this fragility that I often find solace in distance—and the time and space that accompany it. When I step back from everything and return to this present moment, the past and future feel so far away that they might as well not exist at all.
Whether for work or personal life, I meet people—seemingly at random—and focus my awareness on the background each of them carries. The fact that someone I know, or even someone I don’t, is living calmly and peacefully despite carrying countless worries also brings me salvation.
I’ve forgotten when exactly I realized just how deeply I love humanity, this species called humans. Perhaps it’s been that way from the very beginning—or maybe, it’s been so long before what I might call the “beginning.” If not, I couldn’t explain why I continue to embrace and forgive myself, even when I’ve been hurt or saddened by my relationships with others.
And so, no matter what happens, I ultimately choose to face forward. As long as light continues to shine upon this beautiful world.
01.2024
A wave of dizziness overtakes me, and the warmth drains from my body. I struggle to breathe, and when I try to form words, tears come instead. Asking “why” feels utterly futile, the question dissolving into the void. Everything in the world moves in slow motion. If it were only a bad dream, I wished with all my heart to wake up—but that, too, was in vain.
When I could no longer think, I shut myself in my room, listening intently to the sound of snowmelt trickling outside the window. The unending, ceaseless sound suddenly reminded me that I was still alive. I stood up, opened the window, and let the shockingly cold, crisp air flood both the room and my lungs at once. My eyes snapped open, involuntarily. I am alive—not as someone else, but as myself. Realizing this, I cried again, resenting the warmth of my tears.
For some time, I’ve been dreaming of a paradise on Earth. My heart has always lingered in “somewhere that is not here,” but now it rests in “a specific place that is not here.” A small, clean, and deeply charming land. I know—or at least I think I do—that no place can be perfect, and even if it were, perfection would only be an illusion.
Above all, I can’t accept the idea that escape is inherently wrong. To live without losing hope, people need a place they can anchor their hearts. Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter if that place is physically far away. And even when foolish humans reach their paradise, they continue to seek challenges. They revel in the solitude they have chosen, and rise again and again, even after being wounded. How foolish. Foolish—and beautiful.
But well, let me turn my gaze back to reality. Thick, sharp icicles dangle like weapons, while fine snow dances in the air with every gust of wind. The cold is almost unbearable, and yet, I can’t help but love winter. It’s not so bad after all.