That Special Feeling

My head's still a little fuzzy inside due to the drinking party at Yamaga Elementary School last night after a wild and funky sports festival that ran from 8:30am to after 4. There was a brawl at the after party of the first party. We were all sitting on the floor at low tables complete with beautiful trays of sashimi and other edibles when the biggest of all of the dads decided to take down a smallish dad. This involved strangling the smaller dad. Others reacted quickly so no severe damage was done to either party. However the tone of the drinking party would never quite be the same and the tempers of the dads would never fully simmer down (as the bigger guy was being held outside). Supposedly the whole debacle was over the younger dad's not using polite language to his senior.

In spite of the fuzzy head I've had some fruitful ideas/feelings recently. When sitting in the very old house of a ceramicist in my town while rain was pouring down I was reminded of the peacefulness that I had hoped for when I requested to live in the country for this job. And then after visiting a temple in Oita-ken at which there is a huge sculpture carved in a rock face, probably hundreds of years old, I was again reminded of the peacefulness that I enjoy.

It's true that although I live in one of the most remote parts of my prefecture it feels nothing like the countryside I had imagined before coming. If I leave my house and get myself into the forests and narrow country roads then I find myself feeling the place. But my house and the surrounding houses somehow interfere with that special feeling.

There is an ideal self that I can sometimes imagine. It is a self with regular access to the peace of the countryside combined with regular access to meaningful friendship and occupation. Then I am able to become what I beleive to be my best. Therefore living in the kind of city, or even the kind of country village, that interferes too much with that special feeling (and those special friendships) is something I wish to avoid.

This is a town I could've worked in for three years and I am leaving after only one. Luckily the brevity my time here only accentuates the specialness of the experience. Although my boss, the kids, and the parents all wanted me to stay for three years I know that leaving Japan is probably the best way for me to go and find that special feeling that I've been reminded of again. Until then the time seems to disappear from under my feet as each week passes without notice. Maybe it's because of the weakness of our memory that time seems to seem shorter after it has passed. Strange lives we live.