You are, therefore I am

One aspect of everyday Japanese culture that has always fascinated me is how the folks here seem to have a built in sense of trust that life will take care of them. I first noticed this by observing how people cross the street. When the green walk sign lights up, without even looking to either side, people step off the curb and head confidently into the road. Pedestrians know that drivers have a responsibility to keep them safe, so they proceed without a care in the world.

When I think of the many experiences I have had in other parts of the world, where cars fly around corners at top speed, the drivers only concerned with getting to their destinations and having no concern whatsoever for anyone else, I am doubly amazed by the utter trust of pedestrians here and by the caution and courtesy of Japanese drivers.

Other examples abound. I witness people here being able relax and accept almost any situation in which they find themselves. If a train line gets flooded out or there is an accident, for example, the Japanese will talk about it, of course, but then they settle into themselves and wait patiently until the situation rectifies itself. That is, gets fixed by the “person in charge”. (A favorite Japanese term of address).

There is a much used expression here, “Shigata ga nai”: “It can’t be helped.” And since during most of Japan’s long circuitous history people had little, if any, control over their lives, “Shigata ga nai” became a very meaningful saying. “Take what comes. Don’t fight it. Use the time to turn inward and wait.”

Actually, getting upset, trying to “fix”, or assisting in rectifying something that has gone off course, would show disrespect for the “person in charge”. So, people patiently wait, trusting someone will come to the rescue and fix the situation properly and promptly. Acting thus brings shame to no one and great respect to the one who gets things going again.

Japan is called “A Culture of Dependency”. And indeed, that, too, fits into their enviable ability to trust that others will be there for them. Traditionally, although this is changing a bit, old folks know their daughters-in-law will carry the burden of their aging. Likewise, as incredulous as this may seem to Westerns, (and depending on the family, of course) many children as old as 7 or 8 are not expected to go to the toilet on their own. They know Mama goes with them, even if that means waking her up in the middle of the night.

“You are, therefore I am”, as Thich Nhat Hanh teaches. We all depend on one another to become who we are. And the Japanese know and live this deep in their bones.

I have a very lovely friend here, one of my dearest, in fact. Her name is Yoko. She started out as my student many years ago. She was a delight to have in class because unlike most Japanese, she dared to ask questions. “Why? Why? Why?” always rang in my ears when she was in class. Naturally, I was delighted.

When this starry-eyed beauty graduated from college, lucky for me (and many others) she landed a job in the English Department where I worked. I was thrilled, of course, and she was very proud. Over the years I have had the privilege of watching her mature and blossom into a very fine young woman.

Since she was one of the secretaries in the English Department, she had to deal with us foreigners. That was fun, but not easy. Foreigners tend to be more vocal than Japanese, plus we need help with basics like reading, filling out forms, and sorting through long, boring, often pointless rules, rituals, and meetings of the school. Yet, knowing Yoko was there, stretching to grow and eager to help us, made our tasks a lot lighter and even enjoyable. Over the years she and I became very good friends, which in this hierarchal culture was rather unique. Yet, receiving her endless care taught me far more than anything that I, even as her former teacher, could ever impart to her.

Yoko was raised, not so much to have her own agenda in life, but rather to be there for others. So, she has always been a fabulous assistant in the school. She selflessly and continually gives to others, and always with a smile. A real gem.

One remarkable example of her attitude and values concerns her parents’ home. By tradition when Japanese children get a job, many of them give money each month to help pay for their parents’ house. This is a way to express their gratitude for the sacrifices their parents made on their behalf. Yoko and her spouse, who has started his own fledging company, earn meager salaries, and often have a hard time making ends meet. Yet, every month Yoko dutifully gives a huge chunk of her income to her parents. She has no idea who will eventually inherit the house. Even though her brother has his own home, while Yoko has none, he may get the parents’ house and everything in it because he is the eldest son. In Japan the eldest son is king of the family. Yet, to be fair, he also carries the greatest responsibility towards his parents. He provides most of the day-to-day finances, while his wife is expected to care for her in-laws, who often live with them.

In other examples, too numerous to elaborate upon, Yoko gives selflessly. In fact, deep down, that is how she knows who she is. By being very flexible and answering other people’s needs, she is able to establish her own identity. “You are, therefore I am.”

The other day she and I were talking deeply about some very upsetting issues we both were facing. For us both events have recently scraped open our hearts in ways that have changed our lives forever. As we talked and cried, she told me something very interesting.

The character for “person”, “hito”, is very simple. (人) It consists of only two lines, which look somewhat like an upside-down “Y”. The left stroke is long and arches back, like a bow, but not as pronounced. To the right coming out from the center of that arching left line is another short one. It swings out, making the character look like a person walking. In fact, when I first began to study Japanese, my teacher said, “This character is easy to remember. You can see a man out on his morning stroll. Or maybe he is a businessman going to work, or a woman going shopping, or a child coming home from school.” So, I always thought the character was the pictograph of one person walking. That idea fit into my culture and upbringing, so was easy to remember.

But what Yoko told me made me realize that things were not so clear-cut or superficial. “No, Anne, it is not one person with two legs, “ she corrected me. “That is not how life works. The stroke on the left, the long one arching back, is a person opening up to life. The small stroke, the one touching the belly of the other, is all the people who have ever helped and who are still helping that person. They are holding the other one up. We all do that for one another. We are never alone. We are always supported by others, just as we are meant to support those around us.”

I sat there stunned. But then realized, yes, yes, of course. There is no getting round it. For all of us it is indeed true that “You are, therefore I am.”