Embracing Nippon

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 As I stand before the serene image of the Buddha, a symbol of peace and enlightenment, it echoes the tranquility I found in Japan—a stark contrast to the bustling life I knew. My journey to Japan was not just a trip; it was a pilgrimage to the land that had always captivated me through books and screens.

I remember stepping off the plane, a black woman alone in a country so different from my own. The apprehension was real, but so was the excitement. The soft murmur of Japanese, the scent of cherry blossoms in the air, and the elegant dance of tradition all around; it was like walking into a dream I had dreamt a thousand times.

The people I met were the embodiment of omotenashi, the Japanese spirit of hospitality. Their welcome was not just polite; it was heartfelt. I learned the language, stumbling over syllables that eventually became familiar. I wore the kimono, feeling its fabric tell stories of a past so rich and a culture so enduring.

Every temple visit, every bow, every sip of matcha was a stitch sewing me into the fabric of Japan. I found myself contemplating relocation, yearning to wake up every day to the beauty and ceremony of this culture I had grown to adore.

This painting, it isn't just a decoration; it's a reminder of where my heart is at peace, where my soul speaks a language that isn't my mother tongue but feels like home. It's where I am whole, embraced by a culture that isn't mine by birth but is mine by love. Japan is not just a place; it's a possibility, a new chapter waiting to be written in the kanji of my life's story.