Time, perceived as an unceasing forward motion, may feel most pronounced in city life. The capital city serves as a focal point where a nation’s hopes, ambitions, and anxieties intersect. The drive of government, markets, and media cultivates a sense of continual progress that permeates the public consciousness, shaping a shared psychological terrain. Secondary cities, moving along their own trajectories, experience a similar process, albeit at a more humane pace. Regional cities, too, are drawn forward, the recipients of cultural and technological diffusion.

In some respects, the sensation of an accelerating pace of life carries its own beauty. If you accept the ephemerality inherent in traditional Japanese aesthetics, such as mono no aware (ものの哀れ), the awareness of impermanence, then perhaps the constant forward motion of the city offers a heightened sensitivity to its presence. Fleeting moments are no longer tied to seasonal transitions but form an unbroken current of daily existence. Yet, this same relentless speed also carries the risk of mentally and physically exhausting individuals.

At the end of last year, I wrote about the need to pause for reflection, to resist the exhaustion that unchecked momentum brings¹. It is simpler to practise introspection in the holiday season, as the new year approaches, but a different prospect once January begins to evaporate—the month will be gone by the time you receive this. The lunisolar Chinese calendar turned over just three days ago, marking another transition, and the year is already pressing forward. 

Rather than struggling to keep pace, I am working toward more frequent moments of reflection, seeing them not as pauses in motion but as part of the rhythm. And so, this week, I have three retrospections for you—not as a retreat, but as a means of moving on in a measured fashion.