Yesterday evening I went to sit at one of my favourite shrines in my neighbourhood. It’s quiet and not too far away. It is ordinary, not as unique as the Fushimi Inari Taisha in Kyoto, but somehow it is special for me. It’s peaceful and even though there is a road just beside it, the sound of cars feels far away. I can hear the insects buzzing, the birds chirping and the gentle white noise of the leaves rustling in the breeze… it’s magical. Especially in the evening, when the light is soft. The grey, red and white of the gates and lanterns take on a blotted burnt orange tinge. Shadow and light.
A chapter of my life is coming to an end… and a new one is beginning. I’m going to leave Japan earlier than I thought. It feels sad, but it also feels natural. I can’t keep reaching to the past out of comfort. It’s time to gather up my hopes and dreams, and give them one last look over before falling into a new life. Japan feels like the perfect place to do that because although I didn’t grow up in this country, it has always felt familiar to me. It feels like nostalgia, like the past coming to revisit me. I can’t explain it.
Maybe I feel my childhood here because of all the animations I used to watch from a young age. Maybe I can simply relate to the conservative nature of the Japanese, a part of my personality which often made me feel isolated in Australia. Maybe it just feels like a safe and quiet space, something that years of travel did not really provide me (even though it has been a wonderful and adventurous period of my life). Yes, I think that Japan is the perfect place to end this chapter of my life.
A chapter I had originally intended to be 6 months, but through the kindness of others it grew into 8 years. I feel like an accidental pilgrim. I set out on a road to nowhere, and I ended up going everywhere, collecting pieces of myself along the way. I want to cry, even though I know that my next chapter will be the most beautiful yet. And I will let myself. I’ve learned that when emotions don’t make sense, this is the best time to feel them and let them pass quietly. So I’m going to give myself that period of time, to feel things that don’t make sense and to feel sad when perhaps I should feel overjoyed. To let this old version of me fold down gracefully and give way to someone new.
My book now feels not only like a good idea, but the way in which I’m choosing to let go of who I was. It won’t be long before I say goodbye to familiar discomfort of the cramped plane seat. I’ll say goodbye to having to learn a new system, a new set of social norms, or listening to a new language every few months. Soon I’ll be on an adventure of a different kind, and one that I’m really looking forward to. But for now I give time to grieving for the old life that I had lived.
If you’ve been reading this blog regularly, or from the start, then you’ve only known the end of my story. There is so much more that I have experienced, things I want to tell you. It’s actually a perfect time to reflect and write about who I was in the past, because I am not her anymore. I am a witness of her now, and perhaps it can help me to be a better storyteller. I can’t wait to share the first part with you soon.
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