No One Does It Because They Like It

Even among the great literary figures who represent our country, I have the impression that in their home lives, Natsume Soseki was strict with his children, while Mori Ogai was a doting father.
Among these, the anecdote that truly makes one think, "Well, that's something," is how Ogai dealt with his beloved daughter's "bad habit."

When the eldest daughter of the Mori family, Mari, was still in elementary school, an incident occurred where she wanted her friend's stationery so badly that she took it home without saying anything.
Although it was something a child might do, her mother felt that letting it slide would not be in the child's best interest, so she informed Ogai of the situation and asked him to scold her sternly.

Upon hearing this, Ogai had Mari come to his room, took his beloved daughter onto his lap, and said with a smile:
"If you're going to steal, Mari, then doing it well is fine, perfectly fine."

There is no end to Ogai's "episodes of doting on his children," such as taking home Japanese sweets gifted by the Emperor in his pocket because he wanted to feed them to his children waiting at home.

Because of this, Mari wrote that she hardly remembered ever being scolded by her father, but she said that the few exceptions were regarding "language."

For example, the moment Ogai found a typo in a notebook Mari had written in, his expression would change, and he would immediately order her to sit properly.
"Mari, that is a false character."
He would then sit close to her and thoroughly explain the correct word, starting from its etymology.

I read with a wry smile that Mari recalled this as a time that was nothing but painful for her as a child.

Everyone must have such "matters that absolutely cannot be neglected," and for Ogai, it may have been the "national language."

Of course, I have such things myself, and when I think of people around me who have such traits strongly, my friend, a psychology professor, immediately comes to mind.

As I wrote before in a story titled "Beautiful Anger" on the theme of "anger," this person is gentle to the core, a person of character who last got angry several years ago.

He is the kind of person who is never swept up by me, as I am always angry or running off on foolish assumptions, and he smiles and lets any rudeness slide, but there is only one state where his "switch is flipped": when I make a psychologically incorrect interpretation.

When that happens, just like Ogai's "that is a false character," a thorough lecture begins, as if to say "that is a false theory."
Just recently, something like this happened.

I don't remember the flow of the conversation, but we ended up talking about what we think of people who harbor dissatisfaction yet settle for their current situation.
Actually, I have an acquaintance who "hates their current job but won't leave it," and surprisingly, this person has been working there for 10 years while badmouthing the workplace.

For someone short-sighted like me, it is a difficult story to understand, and I cannot help but think that if they hate it, looking for the next thing would be much better for the person themselves and those involved.
Alternatively, since they can work there for that long, it could be said that they are suited for the job, so it might be good to change their mindset and actively strive in their duties.

However, I couldn't possibly offer such advice to someone who isn't even a close friend, and every time I saw that person sighing with a gloomy face, the sympathy and worry I felt at first completely numbed.

I haven't told the professor about that acquaintance, but it is certain that I had them specifically in mind. That is why I said something like this:
"Even though no one forced them, they are staying there, so in the end, it means the person is doing it of their own will, because they like it, right?"

Then, without a moment's delay, a correction came.
"That is not because they like doing it. No one is like that."

Although his tone was by no means accusatory or containing irritation, I knew that the professor had immediately entered a kind of combat readiness.
I must have made some big mistake, and the professor did not intend to let it slide.

"Don't you think that saying someone likes doing something they hate is a contradiction in the first place?"
When I replied under my breath that that was the only way to see it, the professor said firmly:
"It might be that not just you, but most people in Japan, no, in the world, misunderstand that point, but everyone is not doing it because they like it; they just don't know any other path.
The role of a counselor, including myself, is to tell those people: you are in this kind of place right now, you are in this state, and there are these other possibilities."

Perhaps because he read my expression, the professor smiled a little.
"What, you're thinking 'is that all?' right? But what is important in counseling is not to show the path one should take, but to propose: there are other paths, let's think about what to do."
"Do you mean something like a guide?"
"That is also a little different. I will teach them about other paths, but I won't recommend them, and I won't make a schedule and attend them."

Surprised by how different the answer was from what I had predicted, I asked, slightly confused.
“Then, what about the counselor? What role do they play?”
“Nothing. They just watch.”
“...Just watch?”
“Because it’s the person themselves who decides. Whether to stay where they are, or to think, ‘Maybe I’ll try moving a little.’ I just wait for them to decide what they’re going to do. I say, ‘Okay, see you next month. Let me know when you’ve decided what you want to do.’”
“Don’t you help them make a decision?”
“Not at all. That would be completely meaningless.”

My voice grew quiet as I imagined myself in the position of a weakened patient.
“What if they answer, ‘I can’t, I can’t move, and I can’t even imagine going anywhere else’?”
“That’s fine. There’s no problem with that. In that case, they should just think of a way to be as comfortable as possible right where they are, even if it means relying on or inconveniencing those around them a little. I’m a bit cunning, and I’ve gained some experience, so I have various cards I can play.”
“Then, what if that person says they want to go somewhere else?”
“I’ll go with them. You asked about the counselor’s role earlier, and that is my answer. No matter where they go, I will always be there.”
“Will you stay by their side the whole time?”
“Yes. As long as they wish for it.”

That was the definition of the ultimate ally, and even for me, who doesn’t currently have any troubles requiring counseling, it made me want to knock on the door of the consultation room just for some encouragement.
Setting aside my inner thoughts, the professor began to wrap up the conversation.

“People who stay in a place even while suffering can also be described as people who cannot see any other path. If you were to say they are ‘doing it because they want to,’ it would just become a matter of personal responsibility, and that would be the end of it. Since there is nothing more boring than the so-called theory of personal responsibility, I wanted you to understand that properly, which is why I ended up talking for so long. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m glad you explained it. People in that state are a bit like someone facing off against a person holding a knife.”

Even to my statement, which would likely have made anyone else look highly suspicious, the professor asked, ‘In what way?’ with an intrigued expression, and I gestured as I explained what I meant.

“Suppose there is a person with a blade just beyond where you are standing. That person is coming straight at you with clear malice. In that situation, you would normally panic and freeze up completely out of fear, right?”
“And as a result, you would end up at the mercy of your opponent, wouldn’t you?”
“But the teacher of Kali (a Filipino close-quarters combat art) I used to learn from would say that escaping is easy. Ordinary people only see one route: the one between themselves and the opponent they are facing. But if you look down from above, for example, there is plenty of other space around you, isn’t there?”
“I see. That’s extremely interesting.”
“When you face a criminal one-on-one, you can’t notice that. And you become convinced that there is nowhere to escape to, but that is an illusion; if you just shift your center line away from the criminal, there are endless places to escape to. I was taught that practicing martial arts is also about cultivating that sense.
Isn’t that the same thing? For people who are suffering because they can’t see what’s around them?”

The professor, who immediately grasped what I was trying to say, smiled and said it was wonderful, and I felt I had managed to redeem my careless words. However, the professor’s sharpness is that he doesn’t end it there.
“Did you sleep well last night?”

Confused by the sudden question, I traced my memories of last night.
“One way or another, I stayed up late, so I might not have even slept for six hours.”
“I thought so. The moment I saw your face today, I thought you might not have slept very well.”
“But why so suddenly?”
“Well, it’s about that ‘doing it because they want to’ remark that started this whole conversation. I thought you were probably being mean because you were sleep-deprived.”

To the professor who said that and laughed, this was all I could say.
“From now on, I will definitely get eight hours of sleep on the day of our appointment.”

Just like hunger, lack of sleep also leads to nothing good.
It was an event that taught me firsthand that maintaining your basic condition is more important than anything else.