I was most fortunate to live in Okinawa, Japan, for three years in my twenties. I was also very happy to study the cultural anthropology of East Asia while living there. It did not help my career as much as an MBA, a computer science degree, or a master’s in electrical engineering would have, but it shaped my life in a way I consider more meaningful.
When I arrived in Japan, all I knew was that karate, which I had already practiced for many years, came from Okinawa. I also already had a strong appreciation for Japanese culture at that time.
In Okinawa, I had the opportunity to witness the art of ikebana (flower arrangement) and the tea ceremony in settings of traditional Japanese wood architecture. I learned a lot about Buddhism at a local temple, fell in love with Zen, made friends with a katana blacksmith (another story), and, of course, experienced Matayoshi-ryu Kobudo.
Lifestyle in Okinawa was magical too. Outside of the southern part of the island where Naha is located, life was rural, with fields and houses in the valleys by the ocean, surrounded by lush tropical mountains. I learned that Okinawans live some of the longest lives in the world. There was no hurry, no “industrial diseases”; people went about their lives with a smile and good company.
Unlike in Poland of my childhood, people were polite and society-oriented. Not communists, just genuinely good neighbors. Adults exercised naturally, walking, cycling, or practicing martial arts—something I never saw growing up. Karate itself developed there, when local families, often of noble lineage, preserved and taught their own fighting styles.
The ocean air was clean, free from industrial pollution, and daily work still relied on hand tools and steady movement. Unlike in the U.S., people didn’t chase “fat-free” diets that do more harm than good. At a small, family-run izakaya (居酒屋), which was more a neighborhood pub than a restaurant, Mama-san would serve a hearty bowl of Okinawa soba (沖縄そば): noodles in pork broth with katsuobushi (鰹節, bonito umami), kelp, and vegetables, and she would offer something more substantial to drink alongside it.
I decided to reconnect with my formative past, so I started training again in Okinawan Shobudo karate, practicing arts, and re-reading The Okinawa Program longevity book.
At seventy, you are but a child,
At eighty, you are merely a youth,
and at ninety,
if the ancestors invite you into heaven,
ask them to wait until you are one hundred...
and then consider it.
No comments:
Post a Comment