Haiku as My Place.

One day at work, the moment I let out a sigh, I thought, 'Haiku is my place.'

Of course, my fellow haiku poets are part of that, but it's not my place just because they are there.
In fact, I have deleted all social media accounts other than note, so I have almost no contact with other poets.

Even so, I think of it as 'my place.'

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To put it very simply, I think it's because, in my own amateurish way, the distance between 'what I want to convey' and the 'appearance of the words' has gradually narrowed, and I have come to feel more freedom in language.

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Some might think it's because I'm being evaluated, but I don't care about evaluation.
If I were the type of person who cared about evaluation, don't you think I would have kept my social media and been swayed by the number of likes?

It's enough if someone, somewhere, reads it.
For me, submitting haiku is not a place to gain evaluation, but an opportunity to have them read by the selectors.

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Let's get back to the point.

When I first started haiku, I was relatively free even then, but I was also careful about the basics, such as the fundamentals of haiku.

It's not that I'm not careful at all now, but I've become able to create irregular rhythms, include the words I want to include, and I've learned the joy of arranging lines.

I don't think this means I'm neglecting the basics, but rather that I've become able to do these things because I've learned a certain level of foundation.
It's similar to the joy of being able to solve advanced math problems.

Of course, I sometimes fail, but failure is a badge of honor for taking on a challenge.

And although there is still a lot of room for growth, that is the potential for the future.
It's fun to think that I still have room to improve.

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In addition to that, even when I feel down about work or things other than haiku, I've become able to stay strong by thinking, 'I have haiku.'

When I was a new graduate, I did almost nothing but work, so I remember realizing on a day off that 'my life will end in a repetition of these days,' and that was when my depression began.

Now, even if these days were to end in repetition, I am confident that I can keep from losing myself by continuing to write haiku.

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I write, submit, and have my haiku read every month.
Sometimes, I keep them to myself instead of submitting them.

It feels like a treasure that grows day by day.

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I can save both sad and happy moments as haiku.
Human memory fades, but by turning experiences into haiku, I can preserve the feelings of that moment.
It allows me to keep hold of small realizations.

I enjoy living while finding poetry in the midst of ordinary days.

And it is fine if they do not take shape immediately.
Keeping them until they eventually become words is also a treasure.

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It is not just about the haiku I write now.

There are times when I am encouraged by my past haiku, thinking, 'I was thinking about this back then,' and times when I read others' haiku and think, 'It is sad, but kind.'

Because they are short, they slip right into my heart.

And there is also the joy of finally understanding a haiku that I did not understand before. That is growth.

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Haiku is not just about joy, but it is not just about pain either.

Honestly, there are times I want to quit, but haiku is necessary for me to be human.

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In the past, I stopped drawing.
A major reason was realizing that my health was more stable when I did not draw, but there is another reason.

Seeing a painter of a similar age post on social media, 'I cannot live without drawing,' I realized, 'I can live without drawing.'

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I, however, can no longer live without haiku.

I want to be healthy.