an exit sign

It was a sunny day of April. I was standing in front of a thousand-year-old tree marked with shimenawa rope that used for ritual purification in Japan. I listened to the wind playing in the leaves, brushing against the sky; the water murmuring and the birds singing. At that precise moment, it seemed that the whole world vanished, just me and this tree left behind.

Japanese Shintoism views every natural object, the tree, wind, sun, rain, lake and mountain, as the symbol of spirit. I looked at the tree, it appeared to be looking back at me.

For a thousand years, the only thing it seems to have learned is to stay in one place. I wasn’t born with freedom. I was placed in a specific location marked with nationality, family, culture, politics and language. But I always move. For years I have been living like a nomad, not knowing where to put an end to my journey.

The idea of travelling to Japan solo came to me when I was 20 studying Japanese in the university. But I could not make it until I turned 30. I feel like I owe the country a visit. After a decade of delay, I finally made it happen. For me, this trip is a ritual to draw an end of my twenties and fresh beginning of my 30s.

The world seemed to have reduced to just me and the tree. I closed my eyes to feel my body, the air, the light, sounds and the soil I was standing on. It was a perfect moment. It was real.

Now I can go back to worrying about everything else in a moment.