Fingertips counting numbers, and the countless 'calms'
Good morning. While the lingering emotions of the graduation ceremony have yet to fade, a new time has begun to move from today.
Right now, I am watching someone study for the 'Bookkeeping Level 3' exam. Their serious gaze as they struggle with unfamiliar numbers, working toward the goal of passing before enrollment.
The world of bookkeeping is so clear. The left and right sides must match without a single yen of discrepancy. That feeling of things falling into place the moment the balance sheet reconciles even has a certain comfort to it.
But, I suddenly wonder. Is the 'ledger' inside our hearts something that can ever be balanced so neatly?
Contradictory feelings like 'I love you, yet I hate you,' or clumsy behaviors like 'I want to cherish you, but I end up hurting you.' Even the awkwardness of yesterday's 'going to the hospital on the wrong week'—I don't know how to record that in the ledger of my heart.
The me of the past was always worried about the profit and loss of life, desperate for the 'correct' response or 'conversational techniques,' refusing to allow even a single yen of deficit. But the me of today knows: in the ocean of the heart, there is a deep calm that can only be attained by daring to 'let go while taking a loss.'
While explaining the concepts of 'assets' and 'liabilities,' I almost said, 'But you know, the greatest asset is the sovereignty of your own heart, which is not swayed by any numbers.' Those words came to my throat, but I quietly swallowed them along with my coffee.
Even if I can teach the technique of balancing numbers, the art of balancing the heart is something one must find by diving into the deep sea on their own.
With a 300-yen coffee in one hand and the sound of a calculator tapping as background music, I, too, think I will quietly observe the 'ledger of my heart' without worrying about anyone else's eyes.
May you not be chased by numbers or efficiency today, and may you be able to stay in your own calm sea.