Zen & Gujo Bon Odori

zen : a state of calm attentiveness in which one’s actions are guided by intuition rather than by conscious effort  —Merriam Abridged Dictionary

“Zen. Alive. Fukui.” It’s Fukui’s tagline, a marketing one-liner for the western prefecture on the Sea of Japan. Most Japanese people outside the area have never been to Fukui and have to think for a bit before they remember where it is. Nevermind incoming tourists — it’s not on their radar.

The slogan, though, is everywhere. It’s on Japan Airlines’ planes, urging travelers to come to see the peaceful place through a ten-minute promotional video. It’s on every booklet and pamphlet I received upon arrival.

What does it mean to be zen? If it’s the slang of “It’s zen here” or “I’m so zen”, then they’re not lying. It is peaceful and quiet. The schools are top-rated, as are the teachers’ students’ English abilities, though the lack of major sites (other than my town’s Dino museum and nearby Tojimbo cliffs), mean visitors rarely choose to come here.

Yet I’m happy to have been placed here in this sweet ruralness because it makes for a unique experience. As I’ve discovered, it’s very conducive to writing and work and getting things done. Plus, Fukui is located near some other beautiful prefectures, that I otherwise probably wouldn’t have visited had I been placed in Tokyo or Osaka.

Last night, we went to Gifu to partake in the biggest Bon dance in Japan — Gujo Odori Obon. We danced through the night, arriving back home to the rising sun at 6 am.

It was quite an event, dancing through the narrow streets, wearing my yukata (a cotton kimono worn to festivals). Yukatas are much more difficult to put on then they look and just as complicated to fold up by the end. I hope by the time I leave Japan, I’ll be able to dress myself. While I fit in at Bon Dance in standards of appearance, I most definitely stood out figuring out the dance moves.

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At one point, a man walking by me looked up and said, “Hello!”. My reflex was to look down and away. After all, it’s what I always did in Boston. If someone was calling out to you, it was very rarely a good thing and it was always uninvited. It wasn’t until the line dance moved along that I went to respond, but it was too late.

It’s time to let my old habits go. Because what that man did, and so many others here do, is reach out. They’re simply being friendly, kind people. Most locals around want to practice their English or are excited by the prospect of speaking to one of the few gaijin in town.

I’m trying daily to stay in the present. It’s such an overused phrase but I think it’s valuable. I can’t tell you how much my mind’s recycling of the past has exacerbated pain or how my concerns of the future have made my heart race until I’m no longer in today.

I’m hoping to practice that kind of zen. I felt it last night watching everyone dance around me. The peace, the fun, the joy, and the calmness. I finally feel like I’m here in Japan and with that, hundreds of doors have opened.