May 30th, 2019
Kyoto -> Tokyo
Scenes of humanity blur past: a gaggle of children totter towards school, a lone farmer tends a field, a fisherman stands in the river tempting appetites with his line.
Folded into the window seat, I am on a Shinkansen (bullet train) that is spiriting me from Kyoto to Tokyo. These rails are the modern route between the two cities, replacing the old Nakasendo Trail whose fading path I had followed just days ago.
Things have definitely evolved.
In contrast to the walking of yonder, the train is smooth and deceptively effortless. It's hard to argue with the convenience of transporting oneself across 450 kilometres in only two and half hours - comfortably, at that.
Hey - I know that stop! Nagoya Station comes into view. Through the glass, I can see the exact spot where a fresh-faced Past David stepped off a train a few weeks ago, beginning his northward trek through the Kiso Valley.
Now, I'm a little less fresh - more tired, wrinkled, and uh...fragrant.
A blink later and we've arrived back to the rhythms of marching business suits in Tokyo. There are a couple more errands left on my to-do list - namely, picking up some freshly harvested tea to bring home - but otherwise it will be an early night for tomorrow's morning flight. My feet may still be on Japanese soil, but my mind is already lifting off.
When I first arrived in Tokyo, I had some trepidation around the Japanese language. What if I mispronounce the words? What if I offend somebody? Will I have to perform ritual suicide if I say a temple's name wrong? Throughout the trip however, I found the language was something that enhanced the experience deeply.
It didn't matter how bad my intonation / accent / lexicon was - people would instantly open up when I tried speaking Japanese. My fumbling in their language made them feel safe to fumble with their English. Any shyness was quickly forgotten - lo and behold, we were communicating!
But beyond the words themselves, I noticed how speaking changed the way I thought. On the one hand, my written English became simplified - stripped of superfluousness to match the basic words I was relying on for oral communication. But on the other hand, the Japanese words and phrases I was learning became a new foundation for how I understood the country.
Language frames experience, providing structure for our internal narrative to make sense of the world and communicate it with others. Words that exist in only one language uniquely shape that culture - or perhaps, are shaped by culture.
Japanese has evolved to include some beautifully expressive words for which there is no English equivalent. One word that is sitting with me today is the word yugen - which roughly translates to "the mysterious, tranquil beauty that exists just below the surface of a thing."
Murata Jukō, a tea master from the 1400s, is credited with adding the artistic and spiritual dimension to the tea ceremony as well as introducing the above concept. His philosophy was heavily tinged with pathos and the transience of all things - which feels apt as this trip winds to an end.
Travelling is an experience defined by a lot of coming and going. Whether I'm walking at 5 km/h, or sitting on a train that's moving much faster, there is an inherent ephemerality. The beauty of these experiences is ineffable - and try as I might, words are not enough to fully describe it (and there have been a lot of words). It is but an attempt, and I will keep trying.
Funnily enough, this mirrors some of my pondering from before the trip. Here is something I wrote in my notebook on May 1st, 2019 - about a week before arriving in Japan:
There is a subtle beauty in everything, unasking of our attention but fully deserving of it. The joy of appreciation comes with seeing, and so the cultivation of eyes that see clearly is critical to experiencing life's fullness. If we can find a place of calm in the mind - beyond story, distraction, and thought - we can drop into the present moment happening as it is and open up to receptivity.
In other words: yugen. I just hadn't had a word for it yet.
D