A Journey through My Diverse Perspectives

  Over the three and a half years since I retired, I have written many short essays reflecting on my life and work, looking back on the past, engaging with the present, and imagining the future. Reading them again, I mainly sense a shared, multifaceted wisdom: the importance of learning to govern our own minds and thoughts in order to live in harmony with the laws of nature. Of course, this is easier said than done. Much wisdom gradually slips from conscious awareness into the subconscious, where it lies dormant, and there are many moments when we struggle to draw upon it to guide ourselves well. This realization has reaffirmed for me that living in harmony with the laws of nature is not only essential to strengthening my practical life, but will also remain a central theme of my future essays.

  I enjoy long-distance road trips, and when I reflect on why, several reasons come to mind. They free me from the routines of everyday life and awaken my curiosity and sense of adventure as I head toward unfamiliar places. Driving roads I have never traveled before gives me a vivid sense of being alive—a balance of freedom and gentle tension. There is also a quiet satisfaction in covering long distances according to a loose plan, whether made in advance or on the morning of departure, and in broadening my horizons through experiences in unfamiliar settings. In this way, long-distance road trips liberate and stimulate the brain, increasing feelings of happiness and fulfillment. Yet even something I deeply enjoy would lose its power if it became routine. If long-distance driving were an everyday activity rather than an extraordinary one, my brain would eventually treat it as just another task, and I would instinctively seek a new way to reawaken it. Just as every journey has an end,...

  Most of the time, I write an essay in one sitting, guided by a spark of inspiration. If it doesn’t feel quite right, however, I set it aside for a while. Later, a new idea may surface unexpectedly, and when I realize it can deepen or reshape an essay I had put away, I return to it and rewrite until I’m satisfied. In this way, even ideas that initially feel incomplete can be reborn into something better simply by being left to rest. Discarding them would be a loss, so I recommend keeping a note of them.

  It has been about three and a half years since I retired, and I have come to realize that I still have much to learn as a person. While dwelling on this too much can lead to unnecessary concern, retirement offers a valuable opportunity to pursue personal and spiritual growth alongside daily responsibilities and the activities I enjoy. With this in mind, I hope to continue growing through honest self-reflection and by nurturing meaningful relationships with others. Perhaps this stage of life is a quiet period of preparation for someday becoming one with the universe—no one can truly know.

  When solving a problem, gathering too much information from many angles can create too many possible solutions without prioritizing importance, making it difficult to choose an effective one. If we first identify the essence of the problem—by defining it correctly—and then collect only the information truly necessary to solve it, we reduce unnecessary data. This narrows our choices to a small number of meaningful options and makes it easier to reach an effective solution.

  Many people in Japan—especially young people, though this is not limited to them—find themselves in a job without knowing what they truly enjoy or what kind of work suits them. For such people, the first step is to fully commit to their current role: deepen their knowledge, refine their skills, and continuously improve through steady effort. Over time, this process often leads to a turning point, where the work becomes more engaging, results begin to appear, and genuine interest—or even fondness for the job — naturally emerges. Of course, if sincere effort still does not lead to satisfaction, seeking a different profession is also a valid choice.

  People who are highly ambitious and set very high standards for themselves often hold equally high expectations of how things should be. As a result, they tend to judge not only their own words, actions, and outcomes strictly, but also those of the people around them. This mindset can dull sensitivity to others’ kindness and quietly suppress feelings of gratitude. In most everyday situations—apart from a few where strict standards are truly necessary—lowering expectations while increasing satisfaction helps build healthier relationships. When expectations remain too high, these opportunities are easily missed, creating unseen losses in human connection. Lower expectations naturally shift our attention to the “thankful aspects” of daily events, allowing us to appreciate even small gestures and moments, which in turn raises our sense of satisfaction. By contrast, excessively high expectations draw attention to shortcomings. This leads to dissatisfaction over minor matters, strains ...