The Sights and Psyches of Kyoto Autumn

The autumn has reached Kyoto in all it's glory. I guess, living in Japan, one can't help catching on to the locals' obsession with seasonal changes. And while I don't quite support the Christmas decorations being displayed on the streets two months too early, I have been for some time observing the trees anxiously, waiting for the slightest change in colour, and having those very Japanese conversations with people as to when do they suppose the "koyo" will begin. This was partially due to the visit of my parents that has just ended. I wanted them to see the city in its most magnificent colours, and though the said "koyo" appears to be late again, we spent two very eventful weeks touring Kyoto's temples and gardens and witnessing this celebration of nature.

But then, my reader knows me too well by now to assume I'm going to dedicate the entire post to such touristic pleasures. The world is out there for all to admire, and has no need in my testimonies of its beauty. And yet it is beauty, and its power over the human soul that I was thinking of for the past few days.

Beauty will save the world, said Dostoevsky. And while it sounds like a rather vague premonition involving two wide and undefinable concepts, in the micro cosmos of our everyday lives we can witness this phenomena taking place. When I started thinking about this, it brought up a memory from my first days in the army. I was 18, alone in a new city and in a new job with heavy responsibilities which nothing in my life had prepared me for. All that, along with the continuous lack of sleep and such, was keeping me on the verge of depression. Since my home was too far away, after work I would go back to an army base which, not to give out any strategic information, was located in rather uninspiring industrial surroundings. One day I was walking home, tired as usual. The road was wet after another rainy day, and I caught myself admiring the reflection of the sky in a greesy puddle. Then I knew I was still ok. And in my university years, in deepest moments of crisis and loneliness I used to go out to the common balcony of the dormitory building on Mount. Scopus and watch the sun setting and the sky changing colours above the walls of Jerusalem. And as long as I could be touched by these I knew I was still ok.

These days I don't have to look hard. My friends and I draw strength from the beauty of this city to cope with the many challenges of living in a strange society, studying in a foreign language and so on, as well as the usual things life occasionally throws at one wherever he might be residing. So when we have some time we go to a temple to see the maple leaves, or go to the river, to enjoy its serenity and whatever is blossoming or occurring on its banks at the moment. I have had conversations about it with some of my friends, and we agreed that the only two things keeping us sane were having each other and having Kyoto. But it is not really the place, I believe, that makes the difference. What will save you, (and, by association, the world), is the ability to see beyond yourself and your own troubles. Only then do you have a chance to see beauty and be saved by it, as I hope to continue to be saved time and time again.