The Day My Perspective Shifted；Metamorphosis

The Olympics in Milan, the fashion capital.

My first reaction was simple.

Wait. Does it snow in Milan?

Apparently, it does.

I had no idea. 😄

Four years ago… where was it again?

I realize now I wasn’t really paying attention back then,

so I honestly can’t remember.

I grew up in a subtropical country,

so many winter sports still feel unfamiliar to me.

I’m amazed every time.

I’m terrible with the cold.

Left to myself, I’d happily curl up like a cat

under a kotatsu, a heated table common in Japan.

So the sheer variety of winter sports feels astonishing.

And also,

when humans play, they really play seriously.

Seeing that determination,

even in the cold,

always makes me smile.

I was watching the highlights, thinking about all this,

when I saw figure skaters gliding across the ice

with unmistakably genuine smiles on their faces.

And I caught myself thinking,

It must be fun.

A huge stage broadcast to the entire world.

Surrounded by the roar of a full audience.

Doing, with everything you’ve got,

the thing you truly love.

That’s when I realized it.

Yes, this is it.

Something that had puzzled me for a long time.

In interviews, athletes almost always say something like,

“I’m happy I was able to do everything I could on this big stage.

Thank you.”

Even though they’re competing in scored events,

fighting to win,

their words rarely sound like that’s the main point.

I used to tilt my head at that.

Of course, not everyone says this.

Especially in cultures where losing a competition

carries an enormous burden.

And even in professional sports,

where performance directly determines one’s livelihood,

you still hear this kind of comment surprisingly often.

Maybe it’s because those athletes work on schedules

that almost guarantee their bodies will be pushed to the limit.

They simply don’t have the luxuryto dwell on what’s already over.

But still, I think most of them are enjoying it.

Being in the spotlight of tens of thousands of people.

That shift in perspective,

one that arises quietly,

before thought has time to take over.

Lately, as I practice with the intention of bringing

only the pieces I truly want to play onto the stage,

I sometimes find myself thinking,

What an extravagant thing I’m doing.

Late Scriabin, for example.

Will anyone actually enjoy listening to this?

Of course, that’s precisely why

I want to share the experience of this music,

from the heart.

Still, asking an audience to listen to something so elusive,

isn’t that incredible in itself?

So when a full stadium moves with the music,

clapping along,

cheering with delight at spins, lifts, and difficult tricks,

Of course it feels wonderful.

Falling.

Being slightly off.

Missing a rotation.

No one is really focused on those things.

It’s not about being strong or weak on a big stage.

It’s about saying,

All right, let’s go,

and choosing how fully you can enjoy it.

That same shift in perspective.

There will be times when tears are shed

over differences smaller than 0.00x.

But that isn’t the main thing.

I know very well that medals

can drastically change one’s future “business plan.”

But that’s no different from a diploma

earned decades ago.

Evaluation matters.

But real evolution happens only through continuing,

even little by little.

So the business plan,

you can think about that later.

A goal isn’t a fixed point waiting in the distance.

It shifts as you move.

Or maybe it was never fixed to begin with.

And sometimes,

you realize you’ve already passed it

without even noticing.

it’s something you’ve already passed,

like a checkpoint you didn’t notice crossing.

Viva la vita