A Soft-Serve Topped with Peace

I was only a kindergarten baby when I bawled my eyes out, wanting to skip the picnic. The engine rumbling and my classmates’ noise only pushed me further away. My parents and the teacher tried convincing me that it would be fun, but I didn’t go. 

Honestly, I was the same guy even during postgraduate studies. I remember demanding that my friend let me know in advance about any plan so I could mentally prepare for it. I preferred to stay in my nest. My insistence on being mentally ready taught me that the world would go on without me.

In the present, I had quite a few people inquiring if I hadn’t returned yet. By the third Sunday, my legs were exhausted from walking an average of 20K steps every day. Yes, I went on a solo trip to Japan for 18 days with just one backpack.

Each step made me reflect on my feelings. Of all the feelings we pursue and experience, we tend to overlook peace. We are drowned in deadlines: assignments, deliverables, societal-induced personal milestones. Yeah, I wanted to take a jab at marriage, but it is what it is. Something or the other influences the way we feel, like an alarm waking me up, a meeting I couldn’t decline, or a gathering I shouldn’t avoid.

If you ask me, I would position peace to be the balance in a meter and the extremes could be positive and negative emotions. I felt peace throughout my stay in Shirakawa-go, a jaw-dropping beauty. Side note: Kawa in Japanese means river.

Shirakawa river

The cold autumn air carried the scent of the damp earth as the red, green, and yellow trees made the mountains. If I rearranged those colours just right, I could draw an analogy about the city’s traumatic traffic lights. But that would drift me away from the theme. I let it go, returning to my tranquility. Now, where was I? 

Green tea soft-serve

With a green tea soft-serve in one hand, I held the village in my other. Loitering without any agenda was the only agenda. I would walk from one end of the village to the other in search of restaurants for dinner. I realised after a couple of days that there was only one restaurant open for dinner, and the village had quite a lot of bears. Funny how I put myself on the menu in search of dinner. 

Taking a break from my regular life, I lived slowly. Once the novelty faded, I realised my emotional meter had settled at the center. It would be arrogant if I advocated against a life trying to earn money. I guess I used money to temporarily experience peace. Was Shirakawa-go the reason for my peace or the familiarity? Sometimes, a walk without purpose, or the silence shared with your loved ones amidst chaos, slows down your world and puts your meter in the center. Peace is a sustained neutrality, found in moments that matter more than deadlines, whether in a quiet village or in the brief pauses of everyday life.