Back in Vietnam, taking a few trips around the streets. My photos from Japan may look cheerful, but inside I carry a private sadness. Very sad!
Sad because the gap between us and them is so wide. Beyond technology or infrastructure, the worrying gap lies within each person: in their hands, heart, and mind.
Getting off the bus, I noticed the driver saying “Arigatou..” (Thank you) to every passenger. Passing through the train ticket gate for JR Pass holders, I also heard the attendant say “Arigatou gozaimasu” to everyone, with an attitude as though it were the first time. Even when thousands passed through, they said it in exactly that way to all of them. It is only a small example, but I know I would struggle to find that in my great homeland at this time.
The gap is no longer 1 generation but perhaps 3—even if we find the right direction, along with luck and miracles. Thinking about this gap saddens me because it is not the “1/1000 of a second” between a champion and the runner-up in a sprint. It is far greater: like the difference between a 25-year-old swordsmanship genius, recognized as gifted since childhood yet still practicing drawing the sword 30,000 thousand times a day since age 6, and someone over 30, worn out, without innate talent and unwilling to make any effort, already drunk by 2 in the afternoon and living on society's “handouts.”
Realizing that such a “gap” exists left me deeply troubled. This was not my first visit to a major country, but this feeling of concern was new. Was I too pessimistic? Returning to Vietnam and seeing how young people—the future of my country—work and treat others, I felt this was reality and that we should face the truth.
When interacting with Japanese people, a Vietnamese person may realize they can easily “bully” them—is it because they are too gentle? But no: look further and you will see their people are truly wise, always thinking of the common good and the ultimate goal. We, meanwhile, are so clever that we become foolish and petty, thinking only of our own interests even within a small group traveling together (and worse, using ways to block others' interests as our decision-making principle instead of win-win). So we may initially seem smarter, but that cleverness is merely “cunning, petty cleverness, clever… foolishness.” It is like someone constantly trying to appear intelligent: the harder they try, the more everyone around them sees how… stupid and empty they are…
I remembered the painting of an “Eastern mahjong game,” in which Japan was portrayed as… the stupidest country, having lost almost every piece of clothing it was wearing. The painting was actually made by a Chinese artist. When we encounter and “feel” the spirit of the Japanese, the spirit of a Samurai, we realize that they do not win in the manner of Three Kingdoms. Sometimes they rely too heavily on determination, willpower and integrity—integrity so strong that it is judged to be foolish. Yet sometimes that very quality makes them the true winners and enables them to achieve miracles; getting to know them deeply readily inspires that belief. Perhaps that is better than believing in the “half-baked schemes” of Three Kingdoms practiced by a younger brother trying to imitate his elder brother: he wants to break free from his elder brother, yet every discussion, from business to politics, still invokes the elder brother's ideas. Perhaps we remain small because we do everything so “halfway”: neither properly righteous nor properly wicked.
After all, life still teaches me that even 1% hope is still hope.
I believe in the passion of youth. If it is truly passion, we will realize that every second not spent on it is a waste. Too much waste becomes a crime. We believe in miracles, but we need to work our hardest today.
– June, 2014 –
