A Journey through My Diverse Perspectives

  People who seem quiet at first can become remarkably eloquent when invited to speak about their interests or meaningful past experiences. Rather than seeking attention, they tend to open up when thoughtfully asked, often revealing unique perspectives, deep insights, and uncommon stories that enrich both listener and speaker alike. I have never been one to talk much about myself; instead, I prefer asking questions that draw others out and deepen the conversation. This approach has led me to unexpected encounters, surprising stories, and new knowledge beyond my own field, and I have always valued the simple fact that others felt glad to share their thoughts with me.

  During the Edo period (1603–1867), under the Tokugawa shogunate, education in Japan was remarkably widespread. Around 300 feudal domains maintained their own schools, and some 20,000 private institutions known as “terakoya” operated throughout the country. These temple- and shrine-based schools, led by monks and scholars, provided children of both samurai and commoners with instruction in reading, writing, and arithmetic, while also serving as important centers of local community life. What distinguished education in this era was its emphasis on character as much as knowledge. Rather than focusing solely on competition or academic achievement, it sought to cultivate inner qualities—manners, ethics, aesthetic awareness, and harmony with nature—while encouraging individuals to discover their unique strengths and roles within society. In this way, Edo-period education nurtured a quiet sense of self-affirmation: a feeling that “I can be of value here.” In contrast, modern education o...

  Just as threads, when tightly interwoven into warp and weft, gain strength and become functional fabrics essential to daily life, academic disciplines, when deeply explored and integrated, enable solutions, discoveries, and innovations that no single field could achieve alone. For example, by connecting the visible and invisible worlds through lowering the boundaries between fields such as biology and quantum mechanics, entirely new realms of understanding may open before us.

  Looking back on my life, perhaps because I moved frequently, I have made a habit of sorting through and letting go of my belongings. Now, in life after retirement, without the catalyst of a major move to a permanent home, I find myself far from a minimalist. Still, I have chosen to declutter my life at a steady, manageable pace—gradually releasing what no longer serves me. I believe that by letting go of what feels unnecessary, both now and in the future, I will better recognize what I truly wish to do and achieve, and be able to focus my energy there. In time, as the results become clearer, I hope to share them with you.

  After entering the workforce, the time we spend learning practical skills is far longer than our years in school. Even those who regret not studying enough in their youth can turn that regret into momentum. By continuing to learn through their work, seeking opportunities beyond it, and sustaining that effort until retirement, they can achieve results that far outweigh any earlier disadvantage. I know this from experience—I was one of them.

  Color contrasts have a powerful effect on our emotions. For example, when we glimpse red flowers set against pale green foliage or white blossoms, the contrast can heighten their beauty, almost as if the flowers were floating. This may be because the human mind perceives aesthetics not in absolute terms, but through comparison. In the same way, as taught in Buddhism, the conditions surrounding our lives are constantly shifting through interconnectedness—changing conditions in which nothing remains unchanged. Each moment therefore calls for a fresh, relative judgment shaped by the situation at hand.

  Cultivating the habit of thinking deeply about what truly interests you—especially what matters most in your own life—strengthens your ability to grasp underlying principles, generate ideas, and solve problems. When you act on well-considered thoughts, the outcomes become valuable lessons: unexpected results refine your understanding, while expected ones can be generalized and applied across different situations. As these experiences accumulate, you begin to draw meaningful connections from past to present and even anticipate what lies ahead. Even within limited time, deep thinking yields lasting benefits, as demonstrated by many throughout history. Yet, it holds real value only when it contributes to your own sense of well-being—making a positive, forward-looking attitude essential in the process.

  Since ancient times, the Japanese have lived as an agricultural people, valuing coexistence with nature and mutual support. They have long believed that success is shaped not only by one’s own efforts, but also by luck, the blessings of deities, and the unseen support of others. Influenced by Buddhism, the phrase “okagesama de” (meaning “thanks to others’ unseen support”) has been used to express gratitude and quiet joy when things go well. From this tradition emerged a value system in which the more accomplished a person becomes, the more modest and humble they are expected to be—elevating humility to an aesthetic ideal, though exceptions exist in every age. In this sense, “okagesama de” serves as a gentle check against arrogance, guiding individuals toward continued self-reflection and growth.

  It is best to travel while you can. As we grow older, especially after retirement, travel can gradually feel more like a chore, and the desire to explore often fades—though, of course, this varies from person to person. In surveys of older adults in Japan, one of the most common reflections is, “I wish I had traveled more and experienced different parts of the world.” Perhaps due to my profession and my love of travel, I have been fortunate to journey both within Japan and abroad more than the average person. As AI continues to advance, simply acquiring knowledge will not be enough. To live meaningfully alongside AI, we will need rich human experiences—moments filled with joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness across diverse environments. Through such experiences, we gain wisdom and deepen our understanding of ourselves. In this sense, travel offers far more than pleasant memories; it provides valuable opportunities for growth. For that reason, I especially encourage young people to t...

  In Japanese, there is an onomatopoeic expression, “pinpin korori.” It describes a life in which one remains healthy and independent until the very end (pinpin), then passes away suddenly and naturally, without prolonged suffering (korori). Many elderly people in Japan regard this as an ideal way to depart, reflecting a wish to avoid burdening family and loved ones in later years. In reality, however, only about 10 to 20 percent of people are able to experience such an ending. My life motto has long been to “live without regrets,” but as I grow older, I find myself consciously adding “pinpin korori” to that aspiration. The fleeting beauty of cherry blossoms—briefly in full bloom before quickly fading—embodies a sense of purity and evokes the Buddhist idea of impermanence, a cornerstone of Japanese aesthetics. In this way, the notion of “pinpin korori” carries, for me, a similar quiet elegance.

  Sometimes, when I notice a flowering plant by the roadside, I sense its quiet strength and resilience—always reaching forward and living fully in its own way. If we cultivate our powers of observation, awareness, intuition, and imagination, and use them positively, we can greatly deepen what we learn from nature.

  Looking back on my life, I am convinced that whenever I faced difficulties, they offered valuable opportunities to learn what I lacked and to grow as a person. Even now, as a senior, I cannot avoid such challenges, and I try to see them as chances for further growth. In reality, however, there are times when long-ingrained immaturity and personal shortcomings prevent me from changing my patterns of perception and behavior, likely leading to less desirable outcomes. Elevating one’s character in reason and virtue is far from easy, and it remains a meaningful challenge even in later years.

  Most people are easily motivated by immediate gains or losses. However, even when we tell ourselves that we are dedicating our time selflessly, without expecting anything in return, and striving to accumulate virtue, sustaining such motivation without a visible endpoint is far from easy. If we push ourselves too hard, we simply cannot continue. Therefore, we must act within reasonable limits, guided by wisdom and ingenuity.

  The petals of the Somei Yoshino cherry blossom are a delicate pale pink, easily scattered by wind and rain, giving them a fleeting blooming period of about a week. During this time, cloudy or rainy weather is common, and the soft color of the petals often blends into the gray sky, muting their vibrancy. However, when viewed or photographed against the dark trunk of the cherry tree on such days, the petals stand out, revealing a different kind of beauty. This reminds us that beauty is rarely absolute or fixed; it is often shaped by contrast, perspective, and surroundings. For some, even the subtle blending of petals into a cloudy sky holds its own quiet charm, echoing the Japanese aesthetic of wabi-sabi—the appreciation of imperfection and transience.

  Flowers soothe our hearts, yet we often overlook the serious survival strategies behind their bloom. For instance, why do spirea shrubs produce such dense clusters of delicate white flowers in early spring? Spiraea thunbergii relies on insects like bees for pollination, and by blooming profusely alongside cherry blossoms and many other flowers, it appears like a blanket of white snow—highly visible even from afar, though it blooms low to the ground. In the same way, each of us should strive to develop our own unique qualities and express them in a positive, meaningful way, just as flowers do.

  Many of us have experienced the frustration of seeking a clear answer to an important question, only to find that the question itself is too vague to be properly understood. When the core meaning is not effectively conveyed, even the most capable person may struggle to provide a precise response. In such situations, a third party can play a valuable role by clarifying and rephrasing the essential points in simpler terms. This not only leads to more accurate answers but can also help the responder recognize overlooked aspects or blind spots. Ultimately, this reminds us of the importance of asking well-crafted questions.

  Looking back on my life, each year has brought goals and challenges that demanded focus and effort, and I have done my best to meet them. At times I succeeded, but there were also many failures along the way. From my early forties onward, I made a conscious decision to learn from those failures and use them as fuel for the future, rather than dwell on regret. Even now in retirement, challenges continue to arise, whether I welcome them or not. While it is possible to drift through the days without setting clear goals, I feel that doing so quietly stifles growth and erodes one’s sense of purpose. To live without regret, it is essential to actively pursue what needs to be done—and what we truly wish to do—here and now.

  There is an old Japanese proverb, said to originate from Buddhist thought, called “Aien Kien.” “Aien” refers to a bond formed through natural affinity or love, while “Kien” describes a mysterious coincidence. In other words, whether people meet and connect harmoniously may depend on an unseen force of “Innen,” or fated connection. If this holds true, then encountering someone on social media with whom we share an immediate sense of chemistry—and building a lasting relationship of trust—can be seen as a rare and meaningful coincidence, almost miraculous in nature.

  In my youth, I had no deep awareness of the Buddhist concept of cause and effect in life, which states that “what you say and do comes back to you.” However, around the age of 42, I experienced a painful setback and a period of deep despair, through which I came to understand the true meaning of cause and effect—something that had never crossed my mind before. Furthermore, I realized that unless I changed myself, similar events leading to major setbacks might occur again. I am not a particularly superstitious person, but in Japan it has long been believed that men who turn 42 (by traditional Japanese age reckoning) enter a period of great misfortune, when the consequences of past good and bad actions return to them. In my case, after passing that age, I could not help feeling that I, too, was experiencing such a period. In terms of personal growth, however, these arduous experiences gave me a valuable opportunity to understand myself more deeply and ultimately helped me grow as a...

  Knowledge and experience gained through effort can be seen as intangible intellectual assets that rarely disappear. We never know when they may prove useful—sometimes immediately, and sometimes, in my own experience, even thirty years later. At other times, they emerge in completely unexpected situations. In such moments, we may even feel a sense of destiny, realizing that the intellectual assets we built through past efforts were never in vain.