I’ve been asked on a number of occasions by hopeful Japanese
eyes, “so, why did you choose to come to Japan
of all places?” And when you see their half smiles staring back at you, it’s nearly
impossible to give them the real answer. “Well, my major in college was
Multicultural Studies and….” That always seems to fit the bill. It delivers a
smile – that’s all they really wanted, right? But what I’d really like to tell
people is that I don’t really know why I wanted to come to Japan. I’d heard
about JET, which seemed like one of the best programs in the realm of teaching
abroad, and perhaps the prestige drew me in initially, but why I chose this
country out of all 196 out there…well I’d be lying if I gave you an answer,
because I don’t have one. To be frank, I just wanted out. I wanted to go somewhere. Somewhere that would test me.
I hardly thought of the consequences of shipping myself like a bag of cargo to
a remote island on the other side of this wet ball we call home. I barely thought
about the language difficulties or what the job would entail and I certainly
assumed I would one day return home as the same quilt of experience, but with a
new thread stitching me together. I wanted to grow. But the biggest part I
never considered was how.
Right now, I am sitting in my humble apartment, adjacent to
at least an acre of white-covered rice fields and mounds of snow collected by
the monstrous plowing machines that come through around 2am, reminding me
on solitary nights that I’ve probably been sitting idly for too long. I’d heard a lot of things about winter
from the other JET teachers and from the Japanese people I know. But out of
everything, there were two statements that trumped all the others: 1) You’re going
to hate the winter here; and 2) But you’re going to love snowboarding. Funny how things worked out that I am
both intrigued by and content with the wintery weather, but haven’t found an
interest in or love for snowboarding.
But the thing no one told me about winter is that at some point, we
become it. A few weeks ago I pondered about changing seasons and their
significance to the life cycle of nature and the world. Spring was like birth,
summer was life, and autumn was death. But winter? I couldn’t quite figure out
what it represented or why it was necessary to this cycle. Perhaps because, as
humans, we’re conditioned to think of our life cycle in terms of only those
three elements. I speculated that winter was a purifying stage. After the death
of the trees and flowers and sunshine comes the cold winter months to blanket
the graves of petals in snow, cleansing them before their rebirth. But as
humans, how does this make sense to our own lives? I think I am finally
starting to understand the answer to that question.
Like I mentioned earlier, there were a lot of difficulties I
didn’t consider about this adventure in Japan – not knowing the common
language, not being surrounded by the supportive network of friends I’ve been
used to, and not being challenged in my job. And for awhile, or perhaps even
still at times, it felt like these things were plummeting on me all at once,
reminding me of the weaknesses and fears I’ve had, but have rarely seen since
they never crept out at home. But I understand it now. That grueling winter I’d
heard so much about? It’s not necessarily the one that exists on your doorstep.
Sometimes it’s most potent when it exists in your mind. Maybe the human
ideology can be too one sided sometimes. We think our life cycles are long.
Some can live through decades worth of springs or winters and still only
complete one human life cycle. But maybe this is the wrong way to look at it.
Right now it feels like a piece of me has been dying. I’ve found myself to be
more judgmental, competitive, and stubborn here from time to time. It’s
something I was always hesitant to admit because at home, those things never
felt like part of me. But I think I need to remind myself of the adventure I
threw myself into and stop pretending that I still live under the circumstances
of home. It’s the cycle of life and of nature, after all. I am killing off the
parts of myself that I know I don’t want. If someone asked me why I came to
Japan, then I think this experience would be my answer. Today, my calligraphy
teacher told me that the weather forecast says it won’t snow for an entire
week. That might be a first for this winter. Without snowfall, the white fields will begin to melt back
into the earth, preparing the land for a revival of life. There’s still about a
month of winter left, but I can feel the snow melting already. The things I’ve
quarreled with in my mind for so many months – soon they’ll just be water,
nourishing the seeds of spring. I can feel these changes happening in my heart
and mind. The cycle of life continues.
The snow falls and piles up. But like in nature, one day it will all
seem to melt away.
Ah, and soon then, it will be spring.