{"id":13104,"date":"2025-12-24T19:33:59","date_gmt":"2025-12-24T10:33:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/?p=13104"},"modified":"2026-03-11T00:37:26","modified_gmt":"2026-03-10T15:37:26","slug":"trip-notes-14","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/en\/trip-notes-14\/","title":{"rendered":"Running in the dark night | Trip Notes | Kota"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\n\t

In middle of December at around 5:30 PM.
\nThe Dutch winter sky is already pitch black.
\nIt\u2019s so cloudy that even the stars and the moon are nowhere to be seen.
\nLately, jogging at this hour has become
\na quiet, private pleasure of mine.<\/p>\n

Taking the ganja I grew myself,
\nI draw slowly from a bong to keep it gentle on my throat.
\nBubble, bubble, bubble...
\nI softly invite the white smoke into my lungs.
\nHolding it for a moment,
\nI exhale slowly, a long and thin breath.
\nImmediately, my consciousness shifts away
\nfrom that of \"sobriety.\"<\/p>\n

A strange sensation, as if being pulled upward,
\nor sinking deep down below.
\nEvery time I feel this distinct shift in awareness,
\nI am embraced by a sense of remembering\u2014
\nah, yes, this world existed too.<\/p>\n

Here in the Netherlands, all of it is permitted.
\nThe scent always drifts through the streets,
\nand people walk about, high and free.
\nThat was the common sense of this side of the world.<\/p>\n

Cloaked in a light, floating sensation,
\nI quietly descend the stairs,
\ntaking care not to disturb the other residents,
\nand step out into the world of darkness.
\nThe moment I step out,
\nthe fresh scent of trees enters deep into my lungs.
\nNo, I consciously breathe it in with all my might.<\/p>\n

Ah, what incredibly, incredibly refreshing air.
\nI spread my arms wide and stretch.<\/p>\n

Moving as I am by its splendor,
\nI also feel a slight regret\u2014
\nthat while such a vast, fresh world was expanding out here,
\nI had spent all day confined within the walls of my room.<\/p>\n

Tapping on my phone,
\nI start playing a playlist called \"Blossom\" on Apple Music.
\nThe gentle sounds playing at random
\nflow through my ears and into my mind and body.<\/p>\n

At this time of year, the houses are adorned
\nwith sparkling illuminations.
\nIn some homes, it is truly magnificent.
\nTogether with the music in my ears,
\nthe contrast with this darkness is beautiful.
\nOf course, while it is a Christian religious tradition,
\nI thought it must also serve practical purposes\u2014
\nperhaps for security, or to prevent the winter blues.<\/p>\n

Even I,
\nfind that these beautiful lights
\nsoothe my heart in some way.<\/p>\n

In this country, the Netherlands,
\nI am a foreigner, an immigrant.
\nThe culture, the language, the people\u2014
\neverything is different.
\nAnd now, it is the Dutch winter.
\nA long, dark, and cold period.
\nSince coming to this country,
\nI have been able to gain many new experiences.
\nThey were all things I could never have imagined
\nwhen I was in Japan.
\nI feel immense wonder and gratitude.<\/p>\n

But at the same time,
\nI\u2019ve felt as though I\u2019ve been silently pushing forward
\nthrough a space as long, dark, and cold as this winter.
\nI believed there was light at the end of the path.
\nBut then,
\nfeeling the walls of discrimination and the unique European culture,
\nthere came a point where I no longer knew
\nif I was moving forward or just treading water.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

\n
\n\t\t\"\"\n\t<\/div>\n\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
\n
\n\t

I exhaled forcefully,
\nthen took a long, deep, steady breath in.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, the scent of burning wood filled the air.
\nOf all the fragrances in the world,
\nthe smell of a wood fire is my favorite.
\nIt instantly unravels the tension in my brain,
\nas if a switch for a sense of relief\u2014one etched into my very DNA\u2014
\nhas been turned on.
\nI felt a profound sense of gratitude.
\nThen, I quietly began to jog alone.<\/p>\n

Usually, when one thinks of \"running,\"
\nit involves short, rapid breaths through the mouth.
\nHowever, my current personal obsession was to run while consciously
\npracticing deep, rhythmic nasal breathing.
\nI had realized that this method suits me far better.
\nWhen inhaling,
\nI focus on letting the air reach the deepest corners of my lungs.
\nIt is like the way a bedsheet ripples when you lift it with both hands and let it settle;
\nthe wave travels from your hands to the very edge before it softly lands.
\nI try to firmly grasp the oxygen and energy in the air with my alveoli,
\nabsorbing it into my mind and body.<\/p>\n

When exhaling,
\nI breathe out at a pace that is neither too slow nor too fast.
\nI release the old, unnecessary things within my heart and body,
\nas if purifying myself.<\/p>\n

I immerse myself gently in this process,
\ntaking care not to disrupt the grand rhythm of this breath.<\/p>\n

After about ten minutes of running,
\na vast park\u2014large enough to be called a forest\u2014opens up.
\nStepping inside, I am enveloped by the thick scent of trees.
\nNarrow asphalt paths weave through countless towering trees,
\nbut after days of rain, a carpet of mud, fallen leaves,
\nand a bit of horse manure had formed on the ground.<\/p>\n

I switched on my phone\u2019s light
\nand ran on, alone.
\nThere was no longer any sign of people or festive lights.
\nCareful not to trip, I ran,
\nkeeping my focus entirely on my breath.
\nOccasionally, I would step into a puddle,
\nsending cold flecks of mud splashing up to my shins.<\/p>\n

From a certain point,
\nthere is a place where it becomes significantly darker.
\nThe trees grow so dense
\nthat almost no light can penetrate.
\nIt felt as if I had stepped into another world.
\nEventually, everything was swallowed by darkness,
\nleaving the faint glow of my phone as the only light.
\nSoon, even this small flame felt meaningless.<\/p>\n

I turned off the light
\nand took off my earphones.<\/p>\n

In the dark forest, stripped of light and music,
\nonly the high-pitched chatter of birds,
\nthe sound of my own breath, and my footsteps echoed through the air.<\/p>\n

I continued as before, focusing on my breath, running forward.
\nBut in this level of darkness,
\nI lost track of my speed
\nand even my sense of where I was.<\/p>\n

Still, I keep running.
\nI focus on my breath.<\/p>\n

At some point, the chatter of the birds
\nthat had been echoing so loudly vanished.<\/p>\n

My body, too, seemed to disappear,
\nbecoming a part of the darkness.<\/p>\n

A potent mix of fear and euphoria crept up
\nstealthily from behind, hand in hand.<\/p>\n

They soon merged with me.
\nBut to ensure my heart was not overtaken,
\nI do not look back.<\/p>\n

Still, I run.
\nI focus on my breath.<\/p>\n

By now,
\nI no longer knew if I was moving forward
\nor merely treading water.<\/p>\n

Eventually,
\nthe rhythmic \"vibration\" of my feet striking the ground
\nwas all that remained of my existence.<\/p>\n

Without a word, it was like the beating of my heart\u2014
\nthat which constantly keeps me alive
\nbehind the scenes.<\/p>\n

Thump, thump, thump, thump.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s right.
\nI am not the one \"living.\"
\nI am merely *being lived*.<\/p>\n

I am being lived \"here and now,\" supported by
\na cosmic web of countless astronomical miracles and connections.<\/p>\n

What if my parents had never met?
\nWhat if I had been in an accident somewhere?
\nThe fact that I have a body that can run like this,
\nand a room where I can take shelter from the wind and rain...
\nNot a single thing can be taken for granted.<\/p>\n

Yet, in daily life,
\nI so easily forget this.<\/p>\n

Believing that light exists somewhere out there,
\nI strive toward it, only to lament
\nwhen that light remains out of reach.
\nI suffer, I grieve, I rage, I cry.
\nI wonder why.<\/p>\n

But then, when things go slightly well,
\nI am happy, I rejoice, I feel joy, I laugh.
\nI wonder why.<\/p>\n

Though I am focusing on my breath,
\na conversation carries on inside me of its own accord.
\nI had only the sensation of watching it all unfold from a distance,
\nas if it were someone else\u2019s story.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

\n
\n\t\t\"\"\n\t<\/div>\n\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
\n
\n\t

Before long, a faint light appeared in the distance ahead.
\nIt was the path leading out of the dark forest.<\/p>\n

The moment I emerged from the trees,
\nthe surroundings were bright with streetlights and houses.
\nI felt myself instantly snapping back to reality.<\/p>\n

I gradually stopped running,
\ntransitioning into a walk.
\nBut my breath, as before,
\nmaintained its steady rhythm.
\nMy feet were quite messy with mud.<\/p>\n

Each exhaled breath appeared white for a fleeting second,
\nonly to be swept away by the night wind.<\/p>\n

I placed my hand over my heart.<\/p>\n

Thump, thump, thump, thump.<\/p>\n

It felt just like the vibrations of my running.
\nSweat was overflowing from my heated body.<\/p>\n

Ah... I see...<\/p>\n

Negative emotions, and bright emotions.
\nBoth are things that overflow as long as we live as human beings.
\nIf you run, you get hot, and sweat overflows.
\nThat is the law of nature.<\/p>\n

Therefore, we should neither suppress
\nnor ignore those overflowing feelings.<\/p>\n

Shadow and light\u2014to taste, embrace, and express
\nevery single part that overflows through this mind and body,
\nis that not why I came to this cosmic realm, to this Earth,
\nto experience being human as \"me\"?<\/p>\n

It is okay to lament.
\nIt is okay to rejoice.
\nEvery bit of it becomes a memory that belongs only to me.
\nIt becomes a miraculous trajectory that only I have walked.<\/p>\n

Light is not waiting somewhere else.
\nI live, aiming for somewhere that I, as a human, desire.
\nThe \"journey\" itself\u2014the act of walking\u2014is the light itself.<\/p>\n

Surely.
\nSurely, that is so.<\/p>\n

Therefore, this is enough.
\nJust as I am is enough.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, the cold night wind whistled past me and was gone.
\nMy heart is gradually regaining its calm.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I no longer knew if I was moving forward or merely treading water. Eventually, nothing remained of my existence except for the “vibration” the steady, rhythmic strike of my feet against the earth.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":13088,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_locale":"en_US","_original_post":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/?p=13072","footnotes":""},"categories":[38,39],"tags":[67],"class_list":["post-13104","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-trip-notes","category-works","tag-trip-notes","en-US"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13104","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13104"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13104\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13756,"href":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13104\/revisions\/13756"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/13088"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13104"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13104"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kota-yoshida.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13104"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}