The Serenity Found in an Art Gallery

I went to see a painting today.
When the weekend came, I used to feel like I had to go somewhere.
I felt I had to find something new.

There was certainly a time when I spent my days with that kind of restless feeling.

But lately, it's a little different.

Today, I headed to a gallery in Seoul to see a painting I had been curious about for a long time.

It was a piece that had remained in the back of my mind ever since I saw it on social media.
"Someday, I want to see it in person."

I made that "someday" today.

It was just that, but,
as I got ready, my heart felt a little lighter.

A unique serenity flows through the gallery.

Someone whispers a few words,
and only the sound of footsteps echoes slowly on the floor.

Just by placing myself in that atmosphere,
I felt something deep inside my chest gently unravel.

My breathing became just a little deeper.

When I stood in front of the piece I came to see,
it was a much quieter painting than I had imagined.

It wasn't flashy.
It didn't demand attention.

It simply existed there.

Yet, for some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off it.

"I like this blue."
"This negative space feels so calming."

Rather than trying to decipher its meaning,
I just stood there, letting myself feel it.

That was enough.

Vibrant blue.
Soft white.
A slightly muted green.

The colors on the canvas quietly soaked into my heart.

It didn't teach me anything.
It didn't give me the answers to life.

Even so, my heart felt strangely full.

Living in Korea, there are moments when I suddenly notice things I hadn't realized in Japan.

Small galleries standing casually on street corners.
Exhibition spaces that make use of old buildings just as they are.
The soft afternoon light slanting in through the windows.

The city of Seoul may seem busy, but
it quietly tucks away these peaceful places.

That is one of the reasons why I love this city.

In the past, on my days off, I wanted to "gain something."

New knowledge.
Useful information.
Hints that could lead to work.

That was fun, of course.

But now that I'm in my 50s, that alone just makes my heart tired on its own.

So lately,

rather than a holiday to add something more,
I have started choosing holidays to quietly rest my heart.

Looking at a painting I like.
Drinking a cup of coffee in a quiet cafe.
Walking aimlessly while listening to the sound of swaying trees.

A day like that might look like it isn't producing anything,
but it might actually be an important preparation to welcome tomorrow with a calm mind.

Getting older doesn't mean losing your sensitivity.

It's actually the opposite,
I think it means becoming able to truly notice small beauties.

There's no need to rush.
There's no need to find answers.

If I can just be someone who carefully picks up
the feelings of "what I like," that is enough.

I went to see a painting today.
That one piece I had wanted to see for so long.

It was just a holiday like that, but
for me right now, that "just that" was the most enriching time of all.

If you have been feeling a bit busy in your heart lately,

why not make "something you've been curious about for a long time"
part of your plans for today?

It doesn't have to be anything big.

A painting you wanted to see, a coffee you wanted to drink, a path you wanted to walk.

Just by turning that small "someday" into today,
your heart might feel lighter than you think.

I'm sure of it.