On Growth

It's hard for me to begin this evening. I can't pinpoint an exact word or phrase to mark my thoughts. In one week's time, I have become better aware of myself. There's a part of me that feels small and insignificant. I think that that stems from settling into a new environment thousands of miles from any familiar surroundings. There's another piece of me that feels bigger than before. Doors unknown to me have opened within my thoughts and feelings. This is the first time that I have been able to take time to recall any of this since I arrived in the sun book nation.

It seems that my emotions took a week to catch up to me. When I arrived in 日本 on January 24th, my thoughts were overpowered by excitement. After all, it is said that emotion trumps logic. The acts of meeting new people and exploring new surroundings partially blocked my emotional channel. Then, suddenly, the excitement that clouded my thoughts settled. I became aware of my surroundings, and I began to realize that I was far away from the people I love. Simultaneously, I realized that the possibility for me to grow as a human being was evident, and the resources were readily available.

I was so moved by this realization.

Then, a few days ago, I said "I love you" for the first time in my life without feeling scared or vulnerable. Then he said "I love you," and for the first time in 20 years, another human being outside of my family returned my love. I realized my love for him. I realized that it would mature as time went on.

I was so moved by these realizations.

Last Friday, I visited Kiyomizudera, a temple in the mountains surrounding Kyoto. I felt calm as I passed through the crowd. Misty Kyoto stood in the background. The grey and white buildings blended well with the low overcast. I prayed. I prayed for the safety and happiness for my loved ones, and for the first time that I can recall, it seemed that my prayers were being heard.

I was so moved by this realization.

Today, Monday, February 2nd, was the first day of classes at Kansai Gaidai, and for the first time in years, I felt a considerable amount of nerves. I felt awkward and out of place, and at times, alone. I felt, more than before, that I missed home and my friends and family. I felt smaller than previous days, and I felt like I was choking back tears.

On the walk home, I passed through the narrow alleys of the Japanese neighborhoods surrounding Kansai Gaidai. The sun had set, but daylight still held on. Several kilometers to the northwest, the mountains faded into black and grey silhouettes. Lights began to flicker on. I walked alone. I noticed all movement around me. I imagined my friends walking or pedaling through these streets on their way home from school. I imagined them growing up in the tightly packed homes. I saw a young Japanese boy standing on his front step, searching for keys to his front door. As I proceeded toward him, he paused briefly, staring at me with an inquisitive expression. I felt more self-conscious than I had in ages. As I moved closer, he resumed digging through his pockets. Then he turned to me and said in a faint voice, "Hello." I said, "Hello," and continued towards home. I smiled and, for a split second, felt overwhelmed with emotion.

I love this country. I love these people, I thought to myself. It's no wonder that I love you.

And I was so moved by that realization.

[Persevere:
"...and so they set sail
for the Land of Possibility
where anything could happen,
and often did."]

-No Limits But the Sky