I prided myself on being flexible. Water was the element I embodied, being able to follow flexibly the flow of where things go. Yet embodiment leads to reflection - the kind that seems so real but it’s only on the surface. Recently I began to truly reflect upon this trait.
It’s possible to be too flexible. Water evaporates when there’s little left. It dissipates when there’s no structure. But when there are too many boundaries, it’s subject to go in a predetermined direction.
It’s funny how we continue to learn about ourselves, especially at a point after you thought you discovered your greatest strength. And then it turns out to be a weakness. Nonetheless, you gain greater self-awareness. Discovery.
Still, water can be a powerful force. It just needs to gather strength, a current - which I’m currently finding.
I came to Japan about a year and a half ago, and I remember seeing lake Shinji. Feeling that lonely serenity - a perfect balance of darkness that fits me. And that’s where I fell in love with Japan.
Matsue was my first love, but I knew there was more. And now, I’m in a bigger city - this is where I’m meant to be.
I thought I reached the peak of my happiness, but it keeps growing. And it’s coupled with a fear of turbulence, falling into precarious situations. But it’s a good thing, because nothing is perfect. Rather, perfect is imperfect, beautiful chaos.
Though I’m being melodramatic - I’m blood type A+ and I’m going up a great path.
All I have to say is, thank you so much 神様 and all the wonderful people in my life. ^o^