As the sun sinks into the west over Tokyo and the land of the Rising Sun, I cannot help but think that leaving this place once again has cast a pall over my life, just as the darkness slowly spreads from the east. The ancient peoples of Japan were right to call it as they did: “Nippon” written with the kanji for “sun” and “origin.” This is a land beautiful and bright beyond measure, fairly overflowing with a rich history and tradition that cannot help but stamp the hearts of those who visit here, however briefly, with an indelible mark.
I envy the people who are lucky enough to call this place home—all the while aware also of how lucky I am to live also in the country I am privileged to call home. The world is a dark place and every land has its own dark underside, but I am starting to understand that things really can be seen from the old, over-tired cliche viewpoints of half-empty and half-full. Thus I can look at a place like this, or a place like my home, and love it dearly and see all the things that are wonderful about it without making myself blind to the darkness. It is a marvelous and powerful thing to love a place or a person wholly, knowing that they are as imperfect as anyone or anything else—especially myself.
And so as I bid farewell to Japan once again I cannot help but worry that that this will be the last time I see this glorious land of dream-like beauty—just like I did the last time I left. However, there always is a last time, despite the best laid plans of mice and men. A last visit to a Book Off, a last handful of Mochi, a last rough-and-tumble with the Endo boys, the last sight of the stately and unearthly lines of a pagoda high on a hill among the trees. A last view of the Sakura, now shedding their blossoms in a late snow-shower of fragrant pink petals, the last grove of secretive bamboo and tiny delicate maple leaves.
I just pray that this will not be “Sayonara no toki” for me.
Keep yourself well, Japan, as you have kept yourself for nearly two thousands years.
Mata, ne.
::photos of the day 9-21-16::
8 years ago
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2 comments:
Almost, I am crying, reading your farewell. The poet in your voice seems to run my eyes, just now. I wish the place were not so far away - flying over an ocean? A little bit of a terrifying thought for me. But how strange it is that there are places that seem to connect immediately to us, in such a spiritual manner that the connection seems physical, and terrible to have to resist.
How strange, as I say, that such a thing should happen, when we cannot live in several such places at once, almost as though this reminds us how we are strangers here in this place, leading an existence that is foreign to our natures. And how, indeed, in this set of physics can we be in Japan and Wales at once, and still be here, in this living room, three feet from one another still?
Eternity is not a long enough time to live everywhere we love forever, with everyone we love - who will be living in places that they love themselves, far from us. I find myself mystified by all of this, and by grieving over a place I have never been, and would not understand if I were there - not the way you do.
naw, it can't be your last time. You love it too much. And when we love things a lot we make them happen.
I wish I could go wit you!
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