07.2025
The world that was supposed to end did not end. From that unchanged, continuing world, I watched someone depart. I thought I had prepared myself, and yet when the moment actually arrived, I couldn’t help wondering if there had been anything else I could have done. The price of so many sleepless nights is that thinking itself has become difficult. Whenever an eternal farewell draws near, I grow afraid and do nothing but cry. I am sad and lonely, and it feels as though the air around me alone has grown thin. Still, if she was able to let go of her pain, then that is enough. For now, at least, thinking that way is the only thing that brings me any solace.
On the morning of the ceremony, I wrote her a letter, hoping she might read it on her way to the other side. I lacked the courage to say aloud the things that should have been spoken in my own voice, and so the words inevitably sound like excuses. Even so, spending those final few days together was the result of the best choice I could have made. And in the end, all that remained was a pure feeling of gratitude. She was dazzling like the sun, bright like a sunflower. Every time summer comes, I am sure I will remember that I am her granddaughter.
Water shortages have been talked about for a long time now, and before I knew it, summer had begun to show its true strength. As if my energy were not already depleted, I cannot bear to have other resources taken from me as well. But at times like this, there is nothing to do but follow along with everyone else. I turn the tap down to a thin stream, carefully using what little water there is, and come to understand how precious ordinary times truly are. No matter what anyone says, this is why I firmly believe that humans are the most foolish creatures in the world. It is all well and good that we have built civilization with such pomp, but once those conveniences are taken away, we are, at times, more fragile than mice.
With a hazy mind, this thinking reed turns her thoughts toward the nature of groups and collectives. Having spent a short but critically important period of my formative years living in cities and abroad, I often find hollowed-out organizations and systems profoundly absurd. Worse still is the fact that there are people who are quietly wasting away within them—an unbearable sight. I have no interest in finding pleasure in belittling others, but I must add that “others” may well include one’s own kin. Truly, it leaves a bitter taste on the tongue.
In any case, in this heat, it is impossible to think clearly. Fortunately, I have learned that there is still some time left to me. And no one should ever bear the burden of another’s sins. All I can do, then, is to preserve a healthy body and soul, and prepare myself for the time that will come.
06.2025
The signs of spring have faded, and the greens have grown more vivid. I find myself weary of the endlessly unstable weather, yet it is still the perfect season to seize a patch of clear sky and go out. Being here makes me acutely aware that I am, without question, a living creature. Barefoot, I walk along the sandy shore and step into the sea, watching schools of tiny fish; in the mountains, I tread on soil and grass and eat ripened fruit from the trees. Transcending all cultures, I savor this joy simply as a single life form. It is a blessing of this precious warm season. Standing before the grave of a great figure, I close my eyes and bring my hands together, and all that reaches my ears—fresh and clear—is the rustling of trees and the sound of leaves brushing against one another.
Still, because I am human after all, greedy as I am, I also become absorbed in the stimulation that civilization provides. At home, I immerse myself in the works created by others, laughing and crying, and I truly feel grateful to have been born into such a good era. When one seeks too much, desire knows no bounds. The only way to savor the happiness close at hand, and the only sure way not to be swallowed by the whirlpool created by the countless masses, is simply to know what is enough. I have my own path. To keep walking it, I must not discard the pride of being a small and imperfect human.
At times, I suddenly wonder where the soul ultimately goes. As I chop vegetables, I slip, and the tip of the knife catches my finger, blood flowing from the fingertip. A sharp flash of pain, followed by a throbbing sensation around the wound. As I stop the bleeding with a cloth, I think about what comes after this body—this mere vessel—has decayed. Why are we born, and why do we die? Whether wealthy or healthy, every story is destined to come to an end. I can hardly believe that scientists are truly trying to defy that mechanism, and at a fundamental level, it seems that no one—aside from a few exceptional individuals—really wishes for it. I am no exception. No matter how much our healthy lifespan may extend, there has never been a human who has escaped death. And I know of no creature other than humans that becomes so sentimental when contemplating it.
Such thoughts accumulate like sediment. I can laugh and say it feels like adolescence all over again, but when someone close to us faces such circumstances, surely everyone thinks about it at least once. Of course, there is no answer. Even knowing that there need not be one, I still hesitate and waver. It is unpleasant, but unavoidable. I must prepare for the time that will come. To that extent, at least, I have grown older.
05.2025
I am drawn toward places and people with whom I share a connection, and it is by that pull that I am kept alive. Strange things do happen, and everything I see feels inevitably like a revelation. Even if it were all just my imagination, I find myself wondering whether it is merely a coincidence—but such resistance is futile. I am well aware that my tendency to seek meaning in everything is a habit of mine that I should work on.
Still, it is also true that when one’s focus on life deepens, miracles—large or small—become more likely to occur. Lately, as I have found myself listening to others more often, I have come to believe this, for better or worse. And in any case, unless one cultivates the ability to view reality objectively, one is bound to suffer in the end. In short, everyone should strive to live with sincerity. This applies first and foremost to myself; otherwise, one’s footing will surely be swept away. The environment that surrounds me is a mirror, and recurring phenomena always contain clues.
Put into words, this is what it comes down to. Before something greater than myself, there is little I can do, so it is better to submit quietly. One might even say that simply doing so is enough. And so I do not resist. Someday, a day will come when I can say that this was the right choice.
As the days grow longer, my hours of sleep grow shorter in inverse proportion. As spring deepens and turns toward summer, I feel as though the moisture in the air has increased. The faint lingering chill and the still-gentle sunlight are nevertheless brimming with vitality. I am glad to have returned to this place where I can sense such things properly. I brew a cup of hot tea and let my thoughts wander through the history my former self once passed through. It cannot be summed up in a single phrase, but in any case, I have always run forward at full speed. Through engaging with many people, changing my place again and again, and being tossed and polished like a stone rolling along the shoreline where waves advance and retreat, I hope I have been shaped into something fitting.
When I think about my own changes, they seem almost to run counter to the way the world and society move. I do not chase clear-cut gains; instead, I simply continue to honor small promises I have made to myself, with sincerity. From time to time, I go out to quiet places surrounded by greenery and fill my lungs with the scent of flowers. To some observers, I may look like a fool dancing, but that goes both ways. Even in this modern age, when we can so easily glimpse the thoughts of our neighbors, there should rightly be as many objects of joy as there are people.
04.2025
Every year, beginnings arrive together with cherry blossoms. This is rooted in my being Japanese, in the way cherry trees bud and bloom as the snow melts, and in the fact that I was born and raised on this land. That is why, wherever I may go from now on, each time I set out on something new, I am sure I will think of these flowers. Gazing up at their pale, gentle pink, I found my heart filling with hope. Wanting to breathe clean air, I climbed into the mountains, where the atmosphere still felt entirely like winter. Even so, here too, mountain vegetables poking their heads out from beneath the snow were faithfully announcing the arrival of spring.
As something new—and also a first in my life—I decided to pursue two professions at the same time. In one, I study quite literally every day; in the other, I call up memories from the past. I am grateful for this because it gives me a sense of being drawn back into society, whether I like it or not. If I engage with both sincerely, they will surely bear fruit in the future. I can think this way because every time I ran away from reality, I also properly returned to it. I want to be proud of my past self who decided that, no matter what happened, she would somehow keep living in this world. Thanks to her, I can now recall countless beautiful landscapes.
One personal challenge I have identified recently is setting boundaries. After repeatedly struggling with people who, before I realized it, drift into distances I do not desire, I began to think that I truly needed to take countermeasures. It may sound cold, but time is finite. Still, simply getting angry in an attempt to change others, or forcibly cutting off relationships, does not work well. There was a time when I lacked the skill on my own side, and that too is true. Precisely because of that, by forming many hypotheses and testing them again and again, I have begun to see slow but steady results. One thing I learned in the process is that devoting time to facing a specific person head-on, at all costs, is not necessarily in their best interest. Everyone lives while carrying problems that, no matter how much they struggle, only they themselves can resolve. These are called by many names—fate, karma, and so on—but they all point to the same thing. I must keep firmly in mind that trying to stay close to someone out of goodwill may ultimately deprive them of their own precious experiences.
Thinking this way, I feel as though another burden has slipped from my shoulders. When I calm down, what I can truly do is to live each day seriously and savor, with my whole body, the joy of this very moment. In spring, when the vitality of life explodes—
even if my eyes itch so badly I can hardly open them, and my sneezes refuse to stop.
03.2025
I woke up early, perhaps out of anxiety, and with a hazy mind tried to figure out where I was. When the answer came back to me, I felt a wave of relief. Opening the window, I found that the snow was still falling stubbornly. Wrapped in a familiar cold, the sharp air pricked my skin and tightened my body. Even so, I sensed the warmth beginning to return, peeking through the silvery world outside. I had come home.
As the end of the fiscal year approached, I once again set to work on a task I have done so many times I can no longer count them. While organizing my personal information into numbers, I carefully checked that there were no mistakes and obtained approval. Receiving a refund far larger than expected made me happy, as if it were proof that I had lived my life with honesty.
At the same time, the process of sorting out what I truly need now and what I do not began once more. This will surely continue permanently from here on. There was a time when I believed that honing one’s skills was only useful for work. But in reality, every detail of daily life still holds room for adjustment and improvement. And when I face each of those details sincerely, the results inevitably ripple outward into everything else. For that reason, there is no justification for cutting corners in anything.
While going for walks to restore both my mind and body, I sometimes encounter tourists visiting from a country where I once lived. Meanwhile, I have submitted my résumé to several companies, met repeatedly with their representatives, and for the most part received encouraging responses. I am overwhelmed by the sheer variety of encounters, but perhaps that is only natural for this season. After all, on the way to arriving here, I have also experienced countless farewells.
When I begin to think about things in terms of what is “right” for me, there truly seems to be no end in sight. That is why choosing to accept some things exactly as they are is not a mistake either. With that thought, I close my eyes. Reflecting on the past and cherishing the future are not bad things in themselves. Still, cliché as it may sound, I must live in the present. After going through a period of poor health, I have come to understand this more deeply than ever. My renewed body is now filled with fresh, overflowing love, and my spirit constantly travels back and forth between two homelands. I think of flocks of swans that spread their wings gracefully in either land, always continuing their journey in search of the most suitable place to dwell. To keep them in my heart may be more realistic than a phoenix, I thought—a rather extravagant notion.
02.2025
An astonishing thing is that it can happen at any time. The moment I changed my environment, I fell ill. Before I could even open up about myself, I had to leave that place. My face and body swelled grotesquely as if poisoned, to the point where I couldn’t even bear to look in the mirror. A stabbing pain in my abdomen left me breathless, and naturally, I had no appetite. More than that, I would throw up whatever I managed to eat. I visited several hospitals, but no matter who I asked or what tests they ran, no one could identify the cause. To my surprise, each doctor informed me that I had visited before with the same symptoms. After returning home, I lay in bed with my body bruised and discolored from internal bleeding, unable to sleep. The only thing I could do was repeatedly apologize to myself. I must have been screaming for a long time about how unbearable it was, and yet, I had ignored myself all along. My swollen, drooping eyelids, already heavy, became so soaked with tears that they finally refused to open. Ironically, this meant I no longer had to see my own ugly reflection.
I started to think that all I could do was stay still in my room. But thankfully, we live in an era overflowing with works that are neither poison nor cure. Like a herbivore, I chewed on them, using them to distract myself from my fluctuating emotions. I couldn’t even begin to think about what to do next. For now, I just needed to escape—literally, I couldn’t breathe. Before I realized it, my body had begun to prepare for departure even before my mind caught up. Countless possibilities about what might happen next flashed through my mind and then vanished—but I no longer cared. The quick decision-making skills I had acquired over the past few years to protect myself had saved me once again. The moment I decided to leave this place, things began to unfold like a stone rolling down a hill as if to confirm that it was the right choice.
When I counted back through my memory, I realized I had moved over ten times in the past decade. As I carefully packed my possessions—fewer and more refined with each move—into boxes, I felt a sense of affection for them. I’ve always prided myself on my lack of attachment, but I feel deep love for the things that have supported me through every day. I will never stop being grateful to these loyal companions who have endured their tempestuous owner without complaint.
It’s not just my belongings that have become more refined. Without meaning to, my packing skills have improved as well. Since I started early, I even found myself with extra time. Unable to sleep due to my lack of physical activity, I decided to go for a walk to clear my head. At night, I stepped outside, clutching my medication almost like a charm. As expected, the city was dazzling with light. Walking through the crowds of tourists, the violent aroma of beautifully prepared food—waiting to be savored—teased my senses. A flood of languages from all directions reached my ears, and I couldn’t help but smile. Here, no one cares about me. That indifference to the city has saved me time and time again. I felt comforted by the city’s consistent detachment.
In this manner, I visited a few memorable cities over several days. Every day was unbelievably clear as if the weather itself was inviting me to walk. I let go, completely and mercilessly, of the few lingering regrets I might have still carried. This is unlikely to be a farewell forever, but it’s a goodbye for now. At some point, I realized my desires toward the world had changed completely. I’m grateful for that realization. And just like that, my life in the city came to an unexpectedly quiet and abrupt close.
01.2025
Thanks to spending the New Year’s holiday alone, the beginning of this year feels like its contours have melted away. The boundaries of the seasons have been vague to begin with, leaving both my mind and body confused for some time. The ginkgo leaves are only now starting to change color, and I have no idea when they will finally fall. Ever since I arrived here, it has been difficult to take a deep breath. Perhaps my nerves are on edge; there are many nights when I can’t sleep well. I sometimes find myself blaming my inability to adjust—but then I stop myself. No, I think. As a living being, I can’t be wrong about this.
Still, I wanted to walk outside, so I visited a few sacred places in the spirit of the New Year. Winter doesn’t feel quite real, but when I set out early in the morning, the wind that stings my cheeks carries a sharp, painful chill, while the sunlight remains gentle and delicate. And for the brief moment when I clasp my hands in prayer before the “gods,” I feel as though I’ve been separated from the secular world. Even if it’s only an illusion, it’s better than having no comfort at all.
Suddenly, I recall spending New Year’s Day five years ago in a place I loved. That experience was a festival so far removed from the environment and culture I was raised that it completely overturned the small sense of normalcy I had within me. To the locals, it may have seemed like a foolish display repeated every year for the benefit of tourists. If that’s the case, perhaps next time, I can observe a more locally rooted tradition from the perspective of an outsider.
It hasn’t been long since I last took a long break, but I’ve once again secured another socially sanctioned period of extended leave. I’ve grown far too accustomed to leaving established environments without leaving so much as a trace of resentment behind. Even when the sun is out, I remain half-asleep. I read a book for the first time in a while, marveling at the fact that I’m still getting paid even during this time. Otherwise, I’ll watch a movie, go for a walk to do some shopping, prepare my meals, and then sleep again. No matter how far I go, I’m alone. Alone—and content.
Still, I wonder when I started to perceive this kind of routine as the ultimate form of happiness. There was a time when I couldn’t get through the days without meeting people in a scattered way, drinking until I lost my memory. So what was that all about? It would be easy to dismiss it as the recklessness of youth, but that explanation feels off the mark. There must have been complex reasons behind it, but it’s hard to sum them up in a single word.
…Well, it’s fine. After mulling it over for a while, I give up. At times like this, I go to the kitchen. I roll up my sleeves, crack an egg into a bowl, and whisk it. I heat oil in a pan, fry some meat, and chop vegetables in the meantime. My field of vision suddenly becomes cluttered, and various sounds erupt from every direction. When the water I’ve set to boil comes to a full rolling boil, I’ll brew some coffee. I structure the tasks logically in my mind, handling them all at once. And as the space temporarily descends into complete chaos, I gradually restore order to it. That’s why I like doing housework. It’s almost like meditation. Perhaps I don’t need a clear reason after all—I simply love the life I’ve built for myself.