12.10.13
I found it. I found out what I was missing.
In my struggles to understand Japanese culture, I lost sight of what my original passion blossomed from: tradition. Ironic, how when people would ask me, "Why did you come to Japan?" I would respond by saying, "To understand Japanese culture, its philosophies, its people, but most importantly, its tradition," yet, I have not pursued such knowledge. All my time here has been spent integrating into modern Japanese society.
It is also ironic how I never realized what I lost site of, despite my personal reactions upon visiting shrines or temples. I believe happiness exists for each person, but will only show itself if you calm your heart and release you negative desires or thoughts. Each and every shrine I visited - in Hokkaido, Osaka, Kochi, Tokyo - no matter the size, I felt a spiritual calm. Any doubt, stress, worry, even self-conscious thoughts disperse, allowing me to think clearly and relax. Some people overcome darkness by thrusting their energy up and out! ~in a sense, they force their smile and revitalize themselves. I, on the other hand, prefer a calm yet secure release of all thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, I cry endlessly from pain, clutching my chest from the thumping of my heart; sometimes I cry because I can hardly contain my happiness. If I have the time - an hour or so - my emotions always become clear thanks to the spiritual energy around me. I feel revitalized, because my physical body is relaxed the whole time. Even when bad thoughts invade my mind, I can simply keep my eyes shut and work things out in my mind. If I were to look upon myself, I would appear as though I was asleep.
The beliefs and sincere intentions of the Japanese people who built the shrines/temples and who care for them now are what create the spiritual energy within these places. That is what disperses my worries and gives me the chance to see and feel clearly. That is also what drew my attention many years back, when my flame of passion was only a spark. Without a scripture or constant preaching of fearing god as one's savior, it seemed to me that Japanese culture - traditional culture - called upon the people's sincerity and love. Humbly establishing homes for spiritual beings and leaving offerings as good will would have it, the Japanese people's own actions are what give Shinto and Buddhism life. In turn for their intentions, it is believed gods and spiritual beings will offer their powers.
Perhaps my internal struggles are a result of having lost site of what I truly loved and admired. Sitting in my room, attending class, obsessing over idol groups - while these things would sometimes bring me excitement, it wouldn't be long before my high become a low and I felt "bored." In a way, for me, the fancy entertainment and fashion that Modern Japan provides me is equivalent to trying to buy happiness with money. It's like happiness on your sleeve that may remain for a moment or longer, but will always brush off after a while. So, for me, true happiness is what is born from within my soul and can only burn passionately when I do something that connects with me spiritually. When I ignore shopping for clothes or things I think I want, when I ignore dramas or the internet, when I meet friends and share my honest feelings - those are the most sincere times.
FES英会話.
Working hard, using all my energy and knowledge to help others; teaching with a smile; greeting and saying farewell to fellow staff; receiving generous gifts from travels or simply for thanks; spending time after work to talk with my employer. My hour-long walk to and from work is like the path leading me to candy land. Normally, boredom is tackled by media in my room. However, after work, I wish I could just sit and talk with my employer all night. Even when she offers me a ride back to my apartment because it's cold or to dark, I cheerfully say how my walk back will be a pleasant time for remembering our conversation. My same feelings apply to teaching or volunteering at various schools, as well as my other jobs.
Kochi.
No media for personal use; every second to talk with a friends and/or her family; helping to clean and prepare meals; sharing excitement and worries with a friend; exploring historical and popular modern locations. Especially, my time at Kanamaruza, when I looked at the history, the tradition, the hearts of Japanese people that survived within the old kabuki theater, that was priceless for me. The theater was also a portal back to my memories of being on stage as a dancer, my only other passion. I had questions left and right, my head kept spinning to take in the extravagant structure design, and I felt as if I could just sit in the audience seats for days, admiring the theater. I felt it, the joy within myself, that had been settled for quite some time. I wished I could remain in the hot, stormy countryside, which was the most traditional town I had been in since my 2012 return to Japan.
Tokyo.
Kiwamu and Sasha, two Japanese people, two working people; the small and large temples and shrines of Kamakura; a traditional Japanese cafe (kissaten). Walking the streets and seeing objects and designs of traditional Japan filled me with content. I couldn't have desired anything more. Most especially, when we visited a small temple, I had the opportunity to express my thoughts to Sasha. I told her what I felt from the places we visited and how much I appreciated the spiritual value of the temple we were at. She and I had a simple, but heartfelt conversation over Japanese beliefs and the value that existing tradition holds within modern society. As we talked, we spoke with gentle voices and took small steps, moving without hurry through the peaceful temple. My eyes filled with my emotions, and my smile warmed my body. Later, as we sat in a small kissaten, as I drank my traditional tea, I felt a happiness that had longed to be free once more.
Shrines and temples, in my opinion, are the grandest symbol of Japanese spirituality. From them, the kimono, the fan, tea ceremony, even sumo emerge as traditional representations of emotion, dedication, perseverence, love, sadness, sincerity, and passion. They were not simply made to be an attraction, but were imbued with meaning. That idea is what I have long valued within Japanese culture. It's history is complex, like any place, but its development and survival is something I appreciate.
So as to avoid needlessly extending my story any longer, I would like to just mention one last probable misdirection: audiology. I don't believe my interest in audiology to be negative for my passion. But I do feel that it was unfortunately lumped with the rest of my modern Japan distractions. Because audiology seemed to be the only link I had to a future in Japan, I let it become me sole focus. Now that I see what was lost inside myself, I will turn audiology into my new passionate; it will connect me to Japan, true enough, but I will belong to me. I will chose where and how I use my new-found knowledge. I will keep it close to my heart, rather than on my sleeve.
***May I recommend Setsugekka(The End of Silence)/Zan, a song by Gackt. I have recently been listening to it with unknown interest. Now, I am aware as to why this song awakens my soul. Please listen to it.***
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oa3DFU7-eHA
***"Setsugekka" (雪月花), while literally meaning "snow, moon, and flowers", comes from a poem by Bai Juyi and is used to describe serene beauty.***
In my struggles to understand Japanese culture, I lost sight of what my original passion blossomed from: tradition. Ironic, how when people would ask me, "Why did you come to Japan?" I would respond by saying, "To understand Japanese culture, its philosophies, its people, but most importantly, its tradition," yet, I have not pursued such knowledge. All my time here has been spent integrating into modern Japanese society.
It is also ironic how I never realized what I lost site of, despite my personal reactions upon visiting shrines or temples. I believe happiness exists for each person, but will only show itself if you calm your heart and release you negative desires or thoughts. Each and every shrine I visited - in Hokkaido, Osaka, Kochi, Tokyo - no matter the size, I felt a spiritual calm. Any doubt, stress, worry, even self-conscious thoughts disperse, allowing me to think clearly and relax. Some people overcome darkness by thrusting their energy up and out! ~in a sense, they force their smile and revitalize themselves. I, on the other hand, prefer a calm yet secure release of all thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, I cry endlessly from pain, clutching my chest from the thumping of my heart; sometimes I cry because I can hardly contain my happiness. If I have the time - an hour or so - my emotions always become clear thanks to the spiritual energy around me. I feel revitalized, because my physical body is relaxed the whole time. Even when bad thoughts invade my mind, I can simply keep my eyes shut and work things out in my mind. If I were to look upon myself, I would appear as though I was asleep.
The beliefs and sincere intentions of the Japanese people who built the shrines/temples and who care for them now are what create the spiritual energy within these places. That is what disperses my worries and gives me the chance to see and feel clearly. That is also what drew my attention many years back, when my flame of passion was only a spark. Without a scripture or constant preaching of fearing god as one's savior, it seemed to me that Japanese culture - traditional culture - called upon the people's sincerity and love. Humbly establishing homes for spiritual beings and leaving offerings as good will would have it, the Japanese people's own actions are what give Shinto and Buddhism life. In turn for their intentions, it is believed gods and spiritual beings will offer their powers.
Perhaps my internal struggles are a result of having lost site of what I truly loved and admired. Sitting in my room, attending class, obsessing over idol groups - while these things would sometimes bring me excitement, it wouldn't be long before my high become a low and I felt "bored." In a way, for me, the fancy entertainment and fashion that Modern Japan provides me is equivalent to trying to buy happiness with money. It's like happiness on your sleeve that may remain for a moment or longer, but will always brush off after a while. So, for me, true happiness is what is born from within my soul and can only burn passionately when I do something that connects with me spiritually. When I ignore shopping for clothes or things I think I want, when I ignore dramas or the internet, when I meet friends and share my honest feelings - those are the most sincere times.
FES英会話.
Working hard, using all my energy and knowledge to help others; teaching with a smile; greeting and saying farewell to fellow staff; receiving generous gifts from travels or simply for thanks; spending time after work to talk with my employer. My hour-long walk to and from work is like the path leading me to candy land. Normally, boredom is tackled by media in my room. However, after work, I wish I could just sit and talk with my employer all night. Even when she offers me a ride back to my apartment because it's cold or to dark, I cheerfully say how my walk back will be a pleasant time for remembering our conversation. My same feelings apply to teaching or volunteering at various schools, as well as my other jobs.
Kochi.
No media for personal use; every second to talk with a friends and/or her family; helping to clean and prepare meals; sharing excitement and worries with a friend; exploring historical and popular modern locations. Especially, my time at Kanamaruza, when I looked at the history, the tradition, the hearts of Japanese people that survived within the old kabuki theater, that was priceless for me. The theater was also a portal back to my memories of being on stage as a dancer, my only other passion. I had questions left and right, my head kept spinning to take in the extravagant structure design, and I felt as if I could just sit in the audience seats for days, admiring the theater. I felt it, the joy within myself, that had been settled for quite some time. I wished I could remain in the hot, stormy countryside, which was the most traditional town I had been in since my 2012 return to Japan.
Tokyo.
Kiwamu and Sasha, two Japanese people, two working people; the small and large temples and shrines of Kamakura; a traditional Japanese cafe (kissaten). Walking the streets and seeing objects and designs of traditional Japan filled me with content. I couldn't have desired anything more. Most especially, when we visited a small temple, I had the opportunity to express my thoughts to Sasha. I told her what I felt from the places we visited and how much I appreciated the spiritual value of the temple we were at. She and I had a simple, but heartfelt conversation over Japanese beliefs and the value that existing tradition holds within modern society. As we talked, we spoke with gentle voices and took small steps, moving without hurry through the peaceful temple. My eyes filled with my emotions, and my smile warmed my body. Later, as we sat in a small kissaten, as I drank my traditional tea, I felt a happiness that had longed to be free once more.
Shrines and temples, in my opinion, are the grandest symbol of Japanese spirituality. From them, the kimono, the fan, tea ceremony, even sumo emerge as traditional representations of emotion, dedication, perseverence, love, sadness, sincerity, and passion. They were not simply made to be an attraction, but were imbued with meaning. That idea is what I have long valued within Japanese culture. It's history is complex, like any place, but its development and survival is something I appreciate.
So as to avoid needlessly extending my story any longer, I would like to just mention one last probable misdirection: audiology. I don't believe my interest in audiology to be negative for my passion. But I do feel that it was unfortunately lumped with the rest of my modern Japan distractions. Because audiology seemed to be the only link I had to a future in Japan, I let it become me sole focus. Now that I see what was lost inside myself, I will turn audiology into my new passionate; it will connect me to Japan, true enough, but I will belong to me. I will chose where and how I use my new-found knowledge. I will keep it close to my heart, rather than on my sleeve.
***May I recommend Setsugekka(The End of Silence)/Zan, a song by Gackt. I have recently been listening to it with unknown interest. Now, I am aware as to why this song awakens my soul. Please listen to it.***
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oa3DFU7-eHA
***"Setsugekka" (雪月花), while literally meaning "snow, moon, and flowers", comes from a poem by Bai Juyi and is used to describe serene beauty.***