Lessons from Japan on Grace, Balance, and Ease

I can recall very few lessons from the four walls of my college classrooms, but I’ll never forget the lessons I learned via the choppy seas that took me to southeast Asia. I spent two months on a boat that took me to magical places like the peaceful shores of Vietnam where two young girls in a fishing village eagerly forfeited their bikes and their freedom so that we could stay and explore. I visited South Korea where I quickly and deeply understood the risk I was taking when I ordered food by pointing at the pictures because translating the menu with a pocket translator was literally impossible.

But perhaps my most memorable lessons were experienced in the five short days I spent in Japan. I knew that Japanese culture would change my life the moment I walked into my first convenience store and discovered that you could buy ice cream in travel pouches - like applesauce or even baby food pouches here in the U.S. It was August and really hot, and I don’t think I’ve ever had so much ice cream before in my life. 

If you’re a history buff, or merely paid attention to anything you’ve ever learned about WWII, you might already be associating August and Japan with one of the greatest human atrocities of all time. My visit to Japan directly correlated with the 61st anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima, which was the first stop on our trip. Now, I won’t get into Japanese imperialism or the politics behind the events of the 1930s and 1940s, but I will say that there is a certain humility you feel as a group of American tourists visiting the very spot where tens of thousands of lives were lost in the blink of an eye, almost leveling an entire city, and leaving in its wake radiation poisoning that would devastate the health of generations to come. 

But as we toured the city and visited the museum, we were greeted with absolute warmth and grace. It’s hard to put into words through gestures and actions, but instead, it was more of a feeling imbued on us. As if they were taking us by the hand, saying “come, bare witness to this tragedy, but know that we are stronger when we stand together, arm in arm.” 

In Japanese culture, this was a powerful demonstration of gaman - a value that has played a significant role in Japanese history, particularly in the choice to honor the past with remembrance and advocacy for peace, rather than dwelling in anger. 

More recently, I came across another Japanese value that spoke to my soul. Fast forward 15 years and I find myself recovering from chronic burnout - not necessarily from overwork, but from living out of alignment and ignoring the needs of the mind and body. In Japan, the concept yutori means to create physical, mental, and emotional space so that we can more easily choose to slow down, make decisions with intention, and find joy and ease in the spaciousness. 

In the states, this concept is literally foreign to us. We wear “busy” like a badge of honor. We embrace “hustle culture” and allow ourselves to say “yes” to everything - out of guilt, obligation, a fear of falling behind. We’re horrific multi-taskers - even turning something as beautiful as a walk in the woods into an opportunity to catch up on a podcast or make a few phone calls. No wonder we’re burning out at such an alarming rate. 

We’re not listening to our bodies or making time to rest properly – let alone processing the emotions we’re experiencing in a healthy way. Frustration, resentment, anger. It’s all buried under there somewhere. But we compartmentalize and move on… never actually returning to what was compartmentalized in order to process. 

My point is, we pack our lives with so much noise. We work around the clock, building careers and businesses, raising kids, managing households, caring for aging parents, or simply carrying the guilt that we’re not doing any of these things at any given moment. And the cost is that we’re sacrificing the opportunity for a balanced mind and open heart. 

But what if we started prioritizing the art of yutori in our lives the same way we prioritize productivity?

What if we start scheduling in time to walk in the woods and do nothing but listen to the sound of the birds, or appreciate the smell of the leaves? What if we sit down to watch a movie and we only watch the movie? Or pick up a paint brush and just let the brush guide us - letting go of all attachments to the final artwork?

When we buffer our schedules with things that bring us ease and joy, we find that our minds expand, the peace within us grows, we become gentler with ourselves and others - and in turn, the outcomes in our personal and professional lives improve. 

It’s all the same destination in the end. The journey is the destination. So why not enjoy more ease and balance along the way?