pseudoism
I’m standing in the street while I wait for my travel companion to purchase her cosmetics at a fancy store in Harajuku and thinking about a time when I read too many self-help books. Many of them were Western (mis)interpretations of Buddhism which led me to equate comfort with avoidance/cowardice. True enlightenment, according to these books and my dumb brain, was braving the rain without an umbrella. I still catch myself coming to similarly masochistic conclusions about life and people and what it means to exist in my body, but I wonder if self-flagellating (typically in the form of blaming myself when I encounter a bad situation) is an ass-backwards way of asserting control.
Before coming to Japan, I was aware of the country’s culture of hospitality and thoughtful design. What I didn’t expect was that many of the toilets in train stations have not only a bidet, but also a heated seat and a button for white noise to drown out embarrassing noises. It’s been interesting to observe these comforts while also navigating the discomfort of stares from other passengers due to my tattoos and brightly colored hair. I can blame myself for those two things.