🌸 In Quiet Reverence: A Reflection on My Japan, Then and Now

I’ve recently heard that Japan is starting to implement new charges for foreign visitors—like seating fees at well-known restaurants and pricing differences at popular tourist sites. As someone originally from Japan but now a U.S. citizen, I hold mixed feelings. A part of me feels a quiet reservation, but another part truly understands.

In this increasingly chaotic and unpredictable world, Japan remains rare—especially among capitalist and industrialized nations. The sense of order, timeliness, and deep care that flows through its society is something I still hold with reverence. There’s an unspoken rhythm to how people move, relate, and serve—almost like a quiet choreography. Clean streets, thoughtful service, mutual respect… These aren’t just customs; they are expressions of an inner discipline and a collective spirit shaped over generations.

It’s no wonder, then, that so many are now drawn to Japan. More than ever, people are seeking some kind of sanctuary—not necessarily silence or retreat, but a place that still carries beauty, culture, and a sense of shared humanity. Japan offers that. It holds history in its streets, reverence in its rituals, and kindness in small everyday moments.

And yet, with so many visitors arriving, the country is beginning to feel the weight of overtourism. I can understand why certain policies and adjustments are being put in place—to protect the very essence of what people are coming to experience. It may be one of the few ways Japan can maintain balance and care for both its people and those who visit.

Like all countries, Japan holds many layers. And not all of them are visible to someone just passing through.

I left Japan many years ago, from a deep yearning to breathe more freely. Even as a young girl, I felt that the values of conformity and collective silence—though beautiful in many ways—often left little room for one’s inner voice to live out loud. I longed for something more personally authentic and spacious. I was searching for freedom, for truth, for a life led from within.

And while I no longer live there and don’t speak for those who do, I continue to carry a quiet awareness of the complexities people face. Through conversations with loved ones, I hear of lives lived with grace, but also with a kind of inner holding back—a quiet ache to be more fully seen and expressed.

The very values the world admires—order, harmony, patience—can, at times, become too tightly held. The pressure not to stand out, not to disrupt, not to feel too much—these can weigh on the heart. And yet, I also see a soft strength rising. A new generation, and even those long rooted, beginning to ask different questions. Beginning to give themselves permission.

Perhaps that’s the deeper magic of Japan: it doesn’t only offer sanctuary to those who visit—it is also learning to create new sanctuaries from within. 🌿