Ode to Japan: The Magic of Impermanence. Its Poignancy Heightened By Its transience
After my daughter moved to the Bay Area, we spent over a year, maybe two; dreaming of a trip together through Japan. The “Land of the Rising Sun” whispered to us like a gentle siren song. Soft yet persistent—until finally, we found our ten days time-off window and booked flights from SFO to Narita, Tokyo. But the planning proved tricky: hotels in Tokyo and Kyoto were like mischievous sakura petals, vanishing before we could blink, and finding vegan meals felt like a delightful mystery. We weren’t chasing hashtags or photo ops. We were chasing something slower, deeply meaningful, rooted in human connection. Something that would help us rediscover ourselves, and bond with each other.
We arrived just as cherry blossoms surrendered, drifting gently to the ground. Crowds melted like morning mist. The air felt softer; the beauty, intimate. Wabi‑sabi—the magic of impermanence draped itself over everything. Nothing was perfect, nothing built to last, but everything mattered, its poignancy heightened by its transience.
Enter Letsku—her name was easy to remember because it rhymed with “Let’s go.” Calm yet playful, she had once commanded Tokyo boardrooms, but gracefully stepped away to follow her ikigai (her life’s purpose), and embrace a balanced family life. Fluent in English and enchanted by antiques, she laughed as she told us how she met her husband by browsing his antique shop until she finally proposed. As their family grew, he began discreetly selling her cherished pieces to provide for them. “He’s clever,” she said: “Not quite right…but he sure has taste.”
Through sleek Shinkansen train cars, busy buses, sacred shrines, and steaming bowls of vegan miso soup with crisp salads topped with mushrooms, Letsku effortlessly became our friend. She didn’t just guide us through Kyoto. She led us into its heart, uncovering shibui beauty in shared poignant moments..
Where the Wind Whispers in Bamboo
We tiptoed into the bamboo grove beneath a silvery dawn mist, as if seeking permission. Tall, swaying stalks rose like green cathedrals. Silence felt sacred. Our footsteps lightened, our thoughts softened. Ahead, two toddlers played, one weaving grass into the other’s curls. He frowned, then laughed—and their joy scattered through the grove like komorebi—dappled sunlight filtering through leaves Bamboo, so symbolic in Japanese culture, speaks of resilience wrapped in grace—bending but not breaking, a quiet teacher in surrender and strength. Later, couples sipped coffee along the Hozu River, enjoying the gentle unraveling of an afternoon—like witnessing life by a quiet Ganga in Prayagraj, or Benaras, just slower, softer.
Through sleek Shinkansen train cars, busy buses, sacred shrines, and steaming bowls of vegan miso soup with crisp salads topped with mushrooms, Letsku effortlessly became our friend.
Fushimi Inari Taisha: A Thousand Gates, A Thousand Dreams
At my daughter’s request, Letsku guided us through the thousands of vermilion torii gates at Fushimi Inari, each one a prayer, each an invitation to spiritual ascent—kaidan in motion. As dusk fell, stone pagodas glowed like flickering lantern spirits, their tiers echoing the five classical elements. It reminded me of Vedic temples and the four gates at Jagannath Puri. Under lantern-lit paths in Kasuga-taisha, I saw my daughter become more present, more peaceful. At the omokaru ishi—the “wish stones.” We guessed their weight. If your expectation matches the stone’s heft, your wish might come true. We grinned. We thanked. Guessed. And wished. And between taking a deep breath and nervously stepping forward, we found a quiet ma—a sacred pause full of peace.
Nara: Stillness That Moves
In Nara, the ancient capital of Japan, now a UNESCO heritage site, with the beautiful Kaasugataisha Shrine. A magical park where Sika deer (Cervus nippon) roam free like ancient messengers of the kami gods. Shinshi in Shinto lore…we wandered. One doe followed my daughter, drawn perhaps to her gentle spirit, or maybe those hidden crackers. Their eyes met in a moment of yūgen, a beautiful silence with no words. Deer in Japanese lore symbolize harmony between earth and spirit, teaching quiet grace with their humble bows.
Even the deer bow—
no hurry, no words, just grace.
Presence becomes reverence.
More Than a Journey
We hadn’t set out chasing transformation. Yet Japan, in all its gentle presence, gave it to us. Between bamboo whispers, reddened gates, moss-drenched shrines, and soft-eyed deer, we remembered what matters most: that life lives in the now.
Two hearts found silence,
not to fill—but to listen.
In harmony.
I think of Letsku often—her quiet grace, how she embodied kokoro: heart, intention, soul. Now, when I water my lucky bamboo, I remember quiet mornings, lotus ponds, dappled light, one moment done well. I recall her goodbye: “The best memories,” she said, “aren’t the bold shows. They’re the ones that change you quietly.” As I write this piece, I reflect on the chaos in the world and draw upon the ancient wisdom of Eastern cultures. I find similarities. Both cultures profess harmony.
Wabi‑sabi reflects anicca/anitya—impermanence recognized in both Japanese and Indian/Buddhist thought (anicca: all conditioned things are impermanent). Ma (sacred pause) parallels Indian unplugging through “neti neti” finding inner peace by recognizing absence and stillness. Ikigai“ a reason to get up” echoes the Indian ideal of dharma: living one’s purpose with harmony. Yūgen is akin to Indian “rasa”: Deep emotional resonance that transcends language and lingers in subtlety.
With one foot in Huntsville, Alabama, the other in her birth home, India, and a heart steeped in humanity, Monita Soni writes as a contemplative practice. She has published hundreds of poems, movie reviews, book critiques, and essays, and contributed to combined literary works. Her two books are My Light Reflections and Flow Through My Heart. You can hear her commentaries on Sundial Writers Corner, WLRH 89.3 FM.