OUT OF EDEN WALK

At 50, I wanted to explore a new world and a fresh passion. I’d experienced Western extreme sports and adventure subcultures—skateboarding, snowboarding, and surfing, and taking photographs—learning about the world through physical activities and expressing myself visually. So meeting Paul Salopek felt like winning a million-dollar lottery. A stroke of incredible luck.

Paul's invitation to "walk through Japan together" offered experiences that were the opposite of my previous endeavors—going slowly where previously speed was rewarded, engaging with the people along the way where previously I was self-absorbed, drawing out their stories, and igniting my curiosity to the fullest. It would be a journey of thought and heart through the almost “primitive” act of walking. Paul is first and foremost a writer, and he motivated me to shift toward articulating my thoughts through words.

My destination was my childhood home in the buzzing Azabu district of Tokyo. I began walking with Paul but ultimately finished on my own. After an incredible trek of nearly 1,100 kilometers over 70 days from the southern city of Yamaguchi, I entered Tokyo chatting with a friend in the USA via FaceTime. He eagerly asked, “How does it feel to reach the finish line today?” To my surprise, I felt no rush of excitement. Instead, I realized this adventure had never been solely about moving from point A to point B. I’d found purpose in the journey itself.

While climbers often celebrate reaching the summit, I discovered that the true fulfillment of any quest lies in the moments of discovery along the way. I embraced freedom of movement without specific goals. Previously, I’d set targets—like nailing a skateboarding trick or finding perfect snow for boarding—but now I reveled in the joy of pure exploration.

One morning, for example, shortly after leaving my hotel, I stumbled upon a serene river. Though the hours ahead involved monotonous walking, that river became my favorite moment of that day. Another time, gray skies turned dull until a breathtaking sunset flamed the horizon, lifting my spirits. On a particularly rainy morning, I stepped outside into the downpour, soaking wet yet exhilarated. After hours of walking in the driving rain, I found solace in the solitude around me. I often felt as though I was the only living being in sight. Surrounded by greenery and plants soaked in nature’s precious waters, it was as if I was enjoying a symphony of the natural world, a harmonious feeling and sense of belonging that was deeply fulfilling.

What once had seemed burdensome morphed into moments of joy and astonishment that often surpassed any previous expectations. As I continued walking, I learned to pay closer attention to everything around me, realizing that each moment held the potential for bliss. I allowed my perspective to expand, as if I’d activated an internal scanner, enhancing my sensitivity to, and clarity about, the world. My senses sharpened, I grasped the emotional significance of every visual stimulus that caught my eye—much as the flickering flames of a campfire draw me in. The crashing sound of a waterfall awaking a visceral connection; the solitude of ancient stones at a shrine giving profound peace. I reveled in the simple beauty of a flower blooming on an abandoned road, beauty no eyes take in. I embraced each experience—good or bad—as a vital thread in my unfolding life-story. Free from judgment, I welcomed with gratitude whatever came my way. I let it all in.

Throughout my life, I’ve admired and embraced Western culture and traveled abroad. The more I learn, the more I realize how unique Japan is. Many things considered ordinary in Japan are remarkable when viewed from an international perspective. For example: I think of six-year-old children walking safely on the streets by themselves, of how polite Japanese people are, bowing in greeting, of how considerate of others they are (cleaning a public toilet after using it). Omotenashi—exceptional customer service—is another pleasant surprise, with staff going above and beyond to assist customers.

As I pressed on, I often faced choices—like deciding between taking a long, flat road or a shorter, uphill route. While the flat one would be easier, it could be monotonous, with uninteresting scenery. Conversely, the uphill path could be very challenging, but it might offer breathtaking views that would feel earned. A dilemma.

The effort of navigating the steep trail for two hours taxed my body. As I pushed on up, past grievances flashed through my mind, each thought like an old wound reopening: “How could my old friend have said something as hurtful as that?” Memories of unresolved conflicts and long-forgotten emotional scars resurfaced, one after another. But with each arduous step, the anger I’d once felt seemed trivial compared to the immediate physical challenge. Harsh words that had hurt me dissolved, as if crumbling to dust.

Experts say walking for 30 minutes a day can reduce stress, but after walking six to eight hours daily for over a few weeks, I felt as if I was cleansing layers of childhood angst. As I descended my steep trail, joyful recollections bubbled up, filling my heart. This is amazing! I thought, overwhelmed with thankfulness.

Reflecting on my long walk, I realize that reckoning with emotional trauma sharpens the mind and spirit. When my heart is healthy, everything seems to fall into its right place. Feelings of appreciation for old friends, whom I once felt cause to resent, began to blossom. After all, these people had played a crucial role in my growth, and I felt newly grateful to them. Moreover, this realization not only helped me process the past but also inspired me to consciously embrace my present situation and the future ahead.

In this way, I began to accept the complex reality that perhaps life’s journey is more enjoyable when it includes both uphills and downhills. In the difficult moments, we can truly grow, while joyful times contribute to our well-being. Life is marked by contrasts—heat and cold, pleasure and hardship—and it is through varying experiences that we find depth and intrigue. Thinking like this allowed me to savor and find peace in every footfall.

On the stretch from Sagamiko to Chofu, I came to a rest area called Shiroyama, where the breathtaking view of snowcapped Mount Fuji captivated me. No wonder artists through history have been drawn to translate this scene onto their canvases. Nearby, I saw a young woman marveling at the mountain, snapping countless photos. I thought, How incredible! We’re both admiring the same mountain yet experiencing it so differently. Wearing impractical heels, she’d likely driven here effortlessly, while I was witnessing the same spectacle after walking a thousand kilometers. Even if I shared stories of my journey with her for hours, my emotions and the depth of meaning attached to my appreciation of Mt. Fuji in front of us could never truly be conveyed. It struck me like a bolt of lightning: Even within the same reality, we all exist in parallel universes, each with unique interpretations that are difficult to share. Two people can share the same experience, yet one may find joy while the other sees sadness. The meaning we assign to our experiences is profoundly influenced by our expectations and current frame of mind.

This led to another epiphany: I felt that throughout my life I’d sought approval from others in shaping my self-worth and identity. I understood that this created an unstable foundation, serving as the source of a restless mind that changed like the weather. My new awareness has allowed me to free myself from that way of thinking.I realized now that cultivating what I call “ZERO perspective”—a neutral state without giving in to an urge to conform to expected norms—might be what I truly need for my well-being. The discovery that ZERO perspective brings PEACE has allowed me to find joy in simply being in the moment, in reclaiming my childlike ability to play freely. This shift has liberated my spirit. As I reflected further, a singular idea crystallized: Every event in life connects us through 縁 / fate." Whether meeting new people, missing a train, or even getting an injury by accident, each occurrence holds its own significance. Living by the Japanese principle of "一期一会 / ichigo ichie"—the uniqueness of each moment—teaches us that our experiences intertwine through fate. This interplay cannot be controlled or manipulated; it’s about welcoming each moment with an open heart and surrendering to it.

As I approached Fuchu, west of Tokyo on Mt. Takao, it struck me that my father's grave lay a few minutes’ walk from where I was. Before my father died, I had rushed to the hospital, hoping for his recovery. I stayed by his side for nearly 10 days. One day I asked the head physician, "His coughing has improved, do you think he’ll wake up soon?" With a heavy heart, I listened as he shared the painful truth: “He’s fading away—we’re only waiting for the inevitable.”

Disheartened, I told my dad in frustration and bitterness, “I’m sorry, but you chose a hopeless hospital.” And that same day, I made the difficult choice to leave his bedside. In my absence, my father passed away.

Our farewell was not beautiful. It was marred by unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Now, as walking opened my heart and mind, I didn’t want that burden to linger. Reflecting on my family’s difficult past, I understood that I was confronting the traumas that had haunted me for decades. Armed with a bouquet and a bucket of water, I reached the cemetery, only to find my father's grave choked with weeds obscuring the headstone. After placing the flowers and water on the side, I bowed my head, silently honoring dad’s memory. I put on my gloves and began to clear away the tomb’s invasive weeds. My first efforts were weak, snagging only the tops of the plants. I will remove these! I declared internally. Digging deep, I uprooted them one by one, feeling, as I worked, as if I was simultaneously releasing the dark narratives buried within my past.

After two hours of focused effort, the grave was transformed. Finally, I felt ready to say goodbye. This experience deepened my understanding of my past, bringing a sense of purification to my heart. I recognized how my father and grandfather, and those before them, were stewards of our Japanese heritage, and that, at last, even I too was part of this natural order of endurance and change.

The world is always in motion. Today, fear of drastic environmental and cultural challenges that confront us can induce anxiety and compulsive pessimism. Just as buying drinking water has become commonplace, the day may arrive when clean air must also be paid for. In this light, it becomes apparent that our modern tendency to “want what we will lose” is ultimately unproductive. Walking across Japan taught me this: Instead of dwelling on what may be lost, I must celebrate the present. By fully engaging with what surrounds me, I am open now as never before to discovering the joy in everyday life.

On my walk (thank you, Paul!), I have embraced that ancient Japanese concept of ichigo ichie—the belief that every moment, every meeting is special, undergirding human connections. Once I slowed down to the pace of my heartbeat, I understood that relationships, whether with friends I grew up with or see often or with people I meet once by happenstance, carry immense significance. I treasure every encounter.

I stayed in Tokyo to write this. After my rural nature trails, it seemed that everyone in this efficiently structured city—one of the most densely populated in the world—was fast-forwarding to their individual purpose, their need for speed leading to self-forgetfulness and a loss of sensitivity to the little things. Riding the subway one day, I heard the door buzzer go off and saw someone rushing to jump on the train get caught in the closing doors. Seeing that, typical of the world of rush, was a sign: I needed to get back to the peace of the countryside. Next, I’ll walk north from Tokyo, with no specific destination in mind.

Tomonori Tanaka was born in Tokyo in 1974. A well-known skateboarder, snowboarder, surfer, and freelance photographer, his work and lifestyle emphasize a deep connection with nature