Yesterday evening, I had a good day walking around Kyoto but I was so happy to be back in my familiar little town. Even though it will only just be one week that I’ve stayed in Japan, I am already enjoying my life here and the new side of me that it reveals. It’s seasoning me a little bit, like adding salt to a dish just before it’s ready to move to the plate. I too, am moving into a different stage of life. Maturing. Like learning to remember the value of doing things when you don’t really feel like it. I guess it took me a long time to see the wisdom of living life this way. Perhaps because in the past I kept forcing myself to do what people said would be good for me, instead of learning about what works for me and what doesn’t. It took me a while to trust myself and my decision making again.
This morning, I woke up incredibly tired from the day before, but when I saw that there was a blue sky outside I changed my clothes. I decided that I’d go for a walk, a little one, just to take the air… even though I didn’t feel like it. It is so peaceful in the mornings here, especially since I live where there’s so much greenery. By the time I got outside, the sky was grey, but I went ahead anyway. It would only be a short walk. As I followed the road, I reached an area that went out into the rice fields. I saw a path leading between the paddies, so I took a moment to walk through and observe. The water was so still, only fine green strands were peaking out, almost unnoticeable. The mountains in the reflection stepped down, while the peaks in the sky ascended upwards, the flat farming land sandwiched in between.
I started to notice that there were little drops forming on the water, but I didn’t know where it was coming from. I held out my hand, but couldn’t feel the rain. Then I looked out onto the horizon and saw faint lines blurring my vision. It was raining so softly that I couldn’t feel it, but the water of the rice paddy was so still that it rippled with the slightest disturbance. It’s something so simple that I’d never seen before, and that I never thought I would see in my life. Rain that I couldn’t feel, but could see in natures motionless mirror. Then a loud sound. A train passing by snapped me out of my daydream and I looked up. Within seconds it was gone, and there was quiet again. I needed to keep going.
I continued up the hill, past the old wooden houses that slotted beside each other like shapes in a game of Tetris. Little pots of plants with tiny flowers, long sticks of bamboo standing upright, rocks, hedges… all looked as natural a decoration as the moss growing on the stone bricks beside the house walls. It got quieter and quieter until I reached a set of four rice fields stepping up to a forest path. Beside the path, a big stone gate… two cylindrical pillars bridged together at the top by three long, rectangular slabs of stone. The top most curved upwards and outwards, as if it were the bottom of a boat. Moss grew in big light green spots, tinges of red and black from who knows how many years of rain had fallen upon the structure. In the centre, an intricately curved frame presented a long vertical line of kanji, worn and black from the years.
The gate of the shrine stood there strong and elegant. It was surrounded by other stone structures and pillars which protected a simple building framed with wooden shutters and a dark tiled roof. All that was necessary for whoever follows the Shinto religion to come and pray in peace. It represented the wisdom of something that was foreign to me, so I didn’t know what all the parts meant. All I could do was stand and admire its beauty. I imagined that it was looking out over the town below it. From the perfectly still rice fields just a few meters in front, to the high rise buildings and mountains in the distance. I breathed easier. I didn’t need to know history and I didn’t need to ready any books to know that this was built to help bring peace to whoever touched its soil.
But then while looking around, something in French caught my eye. It was faded, but still readable. Puisse la paix régner dans le Monde. It was written on a small post beside the gate… May Peace Prevail on Earth. I took a moment to think, that it was human hands which had placed that post in the ground. A stranger to me, but a stranger which had helped me find some peace in my own life that lasted longer than the moment I lingered there. Something which helped me to be grateful that I’d decided to do what I thought I was too tired for. Something which helped me to trust myself and the decisions that I make in my life again. The impact of a small action truly is unknowable. A little decision today might be like one of those little ripples on the surface of the rice paddy. It may affect people that you have never met, in the best kind of way.
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