At the age of twenty, the author discovered what felt like “another self” in J. M. G. Le Clézio’s L’Extase matérielle. Years later, he experienced a similar sense of spiritual affinity while reading Shi Ping’s Why I Abandoned “China.” This essay presents Shi Ping’s first profound encounter with Japan in Kyoto’s Arashiyama in 1988 and his discovery of a new foundation for life in Japanese nature, aesthetics, and kindness.

When I was twenty years old, I encountered Le Clézio.

Soon afterward, what might be called his philosophical work, L’Extase matérielle, was published.

He had already written it.

That meant I no longer needed to write it myself.

I felt relieved.

November 26, 2015

When I was twenty years old, I encountered Le Clézio.

Soon afterward, what might be called his philosophical work, L’Extase matérielle, was published.

I bought it immediately.

I was astonished.

There was another me.

People sometimes say that somewhere in this world there is another person just like oneself.

I experienced the truth of that idea with overwhelming intensity.

He had already written it.

That meant I no longer needed to write it myself.

I felt relieved.

I could simply live my own life.

Shi Ping graduated from the Department of Philosophy at Peking University, came to Japan to study, and later became a naturalized Japanese citizen.

What moved his heart most deeply was Kyoto, and his first encounter with it occurred in Arashiyama.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that the time he subsequently spent walking through Kyoto closely resembled my own experience.

I even came to feel that Shi Ping, too, was another version of myself living somewhere in this world.

The following passage is taken from page 201 of his book Why I Abandoned “China,” whose preface I introduced several days ago.

Speechless in Arashiyama

To my great surprise, a deeply moving encounter awaited me soon after I arrived in Japan in the spring of 1988.

I came to Japan in April of that year.

On a Sunday in May, a close Chinese friend who had helped me come to Japan to study took me sightseeing in Kyoto together with his Japanese girlfriend.

It was my first excursion since arriving in Japan.

I still remember it vividly.

It was a cool May day with a light rain falling.

My friend took me to the famous sightseeing districts of Arashiyama and Sagano.

At that time, of course, even after hearing the name “Arashiyama,” I knew absolutely nothing about the place.

My friend told me that Zhou Enlai had visited it and composed a poem there during his student days in Japan.

I therefore followed my two guides, vaguely assuming that it must be one of Japan’s more scenic tourist destinations.

After walking several minutes from Hankyu Arashiyama Station, we reached the bank of a river—the Katsura River.

At the moment the entire landscape opened before my eyes, I caught my breath.

Mountains embraced by fresh green foliage were veiled in milky mist.

Clear blue water flowed gently from the foot of the mountains.

An old-fashioned bridge stretched gracefully across the pure stream, while several roofs resembling those of temple buildings could be faintly seen through the misty rain on the opposite bank.

The entire scene resembled an exquisite landscape painting in ink.

For some time, I was speechless.

I even forgot the presence of my two companions.

Narrowing my eyes, I quietly gazed at the landscape before me, entranced to my heart’s content.

Naturally, it was the first time in my life that I had seen Arashiyama in the light rain of May.

Yet, for some reason, I did not experience it as an unfamiliar landscape in a foreign country.

On the contrary, it seemed strangely familiar, as though I had seen it somewhere before.

I could not tell whether I had seen it in a dream or in my imagination.

But it was undoubtedly a landscape with which I felt an intimate affinity, one into which my heart could naturally dissolve.

To be continued.

November 23, 2015

The following is a continuation of the preceding chapter.

This book describes the process of my “discovery of Japan,” filled with shock and joy, which began when I encountered Japan at the age of twenty-six.

It also presents my understanding of Japanese culture, nurtured by Japanese aesthetics and the kindness of the Japanese people.

When I turn my eyes not toward the past but toward the future, this book also becomes a declaration of a new beginning in my life as a new Japanese citizen and a solemn pledge that will form the foundation of my future public commentary.

In this sense, everything that constitutes “Shi Ping” is concentrated within this book.

Here lies both the culmination of the first half of my life and the starting point of the life that lies ahead.

Because this book has such meaning for me, nothing could bring me greater joy than for readers to devote their time to it, encounter my soul through its pages, and come to understand who I am.

Through this book, I also hope to form bonds of the heart with my readers and widen the circle of companions who will work together for Japan.

For me, as a new Japanese citizen, there could be no greater fulfillment.

Finally, I wish to express my heartfelt gratitude to Michiaki Matsumoto of WAC Publishing, who worked so hard to bring this book back into print, and to Akiko Komori, the wonderful Japanese woman who served as its editor.

Above all, I join my hands in prayer and offer my profound gratitude to the powers of heaven and earth that guided me toward my fateful encounter with Japan.

Sekihei
July 2009