The Art of Maintaining Perspective, Part I

Whenever things go wrong, as they inevitably do in life, people living in foreign countries tend to ask the question, “What exactly am I doing here?” It is very easy to lose track of the reason(s) why, and to find oneself at a loss when it comes time to answer this all-important question. If we were to stay in our home countries, then such a question would never come up in the first place—and yet it is always in the back of a person’s mind while living overseas, especially in Japan, where so little can be taken for granted.

Last week, I had a great chance to re-connect with my own reasons for living in Japan, while on holiday with my family. It seems to me that this is a great opportunity to discuss this topic, seeing that this week’s entry marks the end of the first year that I have been writing this column. Of course, I want to move beyond the obvious answers—coming to Japan for the sake of one’s wife/husband/partner, or for a solid job opportunity. It’s not that these are unimportant or uncommon reasons for moving to Japan (quite the opposite, in fact), but I would prefer to pick up a point that I made in my previous column entry on the importance of having some interest(s) somehow related to “Japan” or to Japanese culture. Overall, I think that this is a good way to maintain one’s connection to this society and to prepare for a long and successful career here.

Believe it or not, this reflection was inspired by a trip to Iga, in Mie prefecture, where the Ninja Museum is located. Ninjas, of course, are one of the stereotypical images of “traditional” Japan—however far removed from reality they may be—alongside Geisha, Samurai and, I suppose, Buddhist Monks. But, for me, the Ninja was one of the first images of Japan that I recall having, unless we count Godzilla and other “Kaiju” (monster) movie characters. My wife laughed at me when I told her this, but it is true that the first job I ever wanted was to be a Ninja. Of course, I was only 8 or 9 years old at the time, but in any case, I recall a period of intense fascination in which I tried to learn as much as I could about this secret society of spies and assassins, all the while wondering where and how I could join them.

Now, being an English teacher is far removed from the shadowy world of Ninjutsu, though I must admit that my powers of putting an entire class to sleep within 5 minutes of a lecture occasionally takes even me by surprise. And it is not to say that I wouldn’t enjoy some of the smoke bombs, wall-scaling devices, or secret doors that the Ninja made use of in their “art of stealth:” such devices would certainly come in handy during interminably long faculty meetings, or when dealing with difficult colleagues, students, and administrators. But I digress.

My point is that this silly, childhood fantasy somehow began the journey that eventually took me to this country, and that a memory buried for almost three decades had the power to rekindle the flame of my admittedly smoldering, perhaps even waning, interest in “Japan.” Sometimes it takes a strange or unexpected twist, like this trip to the Ninja Museum, to remind us of why we first came to this country, or of the fact that we are actually living in a foreign land, and that this “foreignness” is not merely a source of frustration for us or for those around us.

In Iga, I found myself remembering how strange Japan had seemed to me all those years ago, a mysterious place so far away from the small town where I grew up, and I reflected on the odd path that my life has taken up to this point. I thought about how remote the world of medieval Japan is from our world today, and what a wonderful chance I have to see places, people, and things that my own ancestors could only dream of. I was also reminded of the fact that no matter how much like “America” or “the Western world” Japan may look, underneath appearances it is a remarkably different place. I suppose that one tends to forget such facts, no matter how obvious they may seem to outside observers, when living in a foreign country for a long period of time.

At any rate, I would say that, from time to time, we all need to get in touch with our “inner Ninjas” (for lack of a better term), or somehow otherwise reconnect with the reasons why we first came to Japan. It is too easy to take everything here for granted, or to become so accustomed to our surroundings that we lose perspective and forget how utterly odd this country can truly be. For me, this “oddness” was one of the reasons I took those first steps on my journey, and when I think about the endless fascination that this culture offers, that “oddness” seems truly wonderful.