Qingming | From the signs of spring, reflecting on thoughtfulness

“There are no three days of clear weather in spring,” as the saying goes. While being tossed about by the fickle weather, the clouds finally parted, and brightness returned to the sky. Today, the 4th, is “Qingming” (Pure Brightness), one of the twenty-four solar terms. It is said to be the time of year when pure and bright energy fills the heavens and the earth.

In Hokkaido, the rain that had been falling until yesterday has finally stopped, and the forecast shows clear skies spreading toward the weekend. The soil, saturated with rain and snowmelt, shines softly under the sunlight.

In that pale light, there is a lingering premonition that “something is about to begin.” With every rainfall, plants sprout, and the days when one feels like going outside increase.

Walking through the forest, the chirping of small birds, the sound of Ezo squirrels leaping, and the murmuring of snowmelt quietly overlap. The “breath” played by each life reaches my ears. Every single sound holds a sign of spring.

The word for “sign” (kehai) can also be read as “thoughtfulness” (kikubari). Perhaps to feel the delicate seasons, one needs to keep the sensitivity of their heart just a little bit higher.

The wildflowers appear to be receiving the light in a somewhat respectful and modest way. But in truth, their appearance is strong, admirable, and beautiful. Some flowers bloom by breaking through the snow, while others take root in the crevices of rocks to sustain their lives. I cannot help but bow my head to the life force hidden deep within their fragility.

The wind that tells the flowers of the arrival of their blooming season, known as the “flower-messenger wind,” will soon reach the north country. The sight of people huddling together against the still-cold wind overlaps with the nameless flowers on the roadside.

Spring does not speak to us from the other side like birds or insects. Even so, if we take a small step toward it, there are times when we can notice its signs.

In this season, when a new life begins and expectations and anxieties mingle, there may be times when a sudden thought makes you feel, “Maybe I’m not cut out for this,” or “Maybe I made a mistake.”

At such times, noticing the trembling of your own heart and quietly being there for someone during their silent moments are both equally important.

Signs reside in both oneself and others. Focusing your eyes and ears on unspoken feelings—that is not about forcing an interpretation, but simply feeling them as things that are there. Thoughtfulness may not be about guessing, but about a stance of watching over each other without rushing.

Like the patterns of the sky, people’s feelings also change from time to time.

Perhaps both your own heart and the other person’s heart are simply not settled yet. You don’t have to come up with an answer right away. It is okay to take a little more time to discern things.

That is precisely why I want to believe that there is light that will eventually shine even in the sky of a wavering heart.

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