A Journey through My Diverse Perspectives

  In Japan, there is a popular superstition that when you sneeze, someone somewhere is talking about you. One sneeze is said to mean someone is praising you, two sneezes that someone is criticizing or making fun of you, three sneezes that someone is in love with you, and four sneezes that you may have caught a cold. Naturally, most people would prefer to stop at one or three sneezes, but since sneezing is an uncontrollable bodily reaction, it rarely happens as we wish.

  During my years working in offices, I focused on developing my questioning, interpretation, and communication skills—abilities essential for functioning effectively within an organization. However, after recently listening to an expert speak on leadership, I realized that I may have fallen short in truly understanding the thoughts and feelings of my colleagues and subordinates. Now, nearly four years after leaving my job, I find myself reflecting on the fact that I did not make more time to listen to them deeply. Of course, I cannot turn back time, and I carry no regrets. Rather, I see this realization as a valuable lesson: the ability to truly listen remains vital in relationships, even after retirement. I intend to use this reflection as fuel for the future—because it is never too late to begin.

  During my years in the workplace, whenever I encountered someone celebrated as successful—whether I knew them personally or not—they naturally became role models for me, people I admired and hoped to emulate in some way. The desire to move even slightly closer to their way of life or achievements became a source of motivation that pushed me to make my own efforts. Since retiring, however, things have changed greatly. I now find myself without any concrete role models. Perhaps my mindset has shifted toward living without comparing myself to others, or perhaps I simply struggle to find someone who truly inspires me in that way. Even so, what I hope for in the remainder of my life is clear: to devote my energy, until the very end, to pursuing what I feel is my mission in this world and the true meaning of my life.

  A room filled with clutter constantly burdens the brain with unconscious processing of excessive visual information, often leading to psychological stress. Piles of dusty mail and junk papers, unopened envelopes, clothes left hanging for years, and overcrowded closets we keep postponing organizing all quietly pressure the mind. Each time these things come into view, we instinctively think, “I need to deal with this,” creating a cycle of mental strain and negative thoughts. By discarding unnecessary items and arranging the things we truly need in an organized, usable way, we can greatly reduce this mental burden. As a result, we often feel refreshed, concentrate more easily, and even regain a sense of confidence and self-respect. At the same time, trying to clean an entire house at once can feel overwhelming, making it easy to lose motivation before making much progress. For that reason, I personally focus on tidying just one small area each day, spending only five to ten minutes ...

  A photograph captures only a single moment, yet when we look at it again years later, memories long buried in the depths of our minds quietly awaken. Along with the image, the events, emotions, and atmosphere of that time come rushing back, often filling us with deep nostalgia. Photographs may preserve only fragments of my life story, but to borrow a film analogy, they are like meaningful frames linking the scenes before and after each moment. Each frame, no matter how small, has helped shape the people we are today. Everyone is the protagonist of their own life story, and every moment carries its own significance; there is little value in comparing our stories with those of others.

  This morning, as I walked into a powerful headwind, each step felt resisted, yet the cool breeze made it refreshing, and with every step I felt vividly alive. On the way back, a strong tailwind carried me forward, lightening my stride and making the walk effortless. An old Japanese proverb says, “After hardship comes ease,” reminding us that struggles often give way to smoother paths. This morning’s walk felt like a quiet, physical expression of that truth.