Power of Hope

We’ve seen it again in this disaster

On New Year’s Day, people’s celebratory mood was shattered in Japan.  Every time I watched the news on TV, the death toll was increasing.   NHK and other networks as well as YouTube videos showed horrible scenes. 

Watching these videos at home, all I could feel was helpfulness.  Nature doesn’t care if it’s New Year’s Day or not.  It doesn’t care if the city has a long history of impeccable Urushi lacquerware making.  It doesn’t care how many of the family members lost their lives.

No matter how far we humans have come to establish more convenient, comfortable lives over the millennium, one shake of the ground can destroy all that we have built.  We humans are powerless.


But one Facebook post by Takashi Wakamiya, who leads a group of Urushi lacquer craftspeople in Wajima, the city almost flattened by the earthquake, has given me power. 

However, even in these tough circumstances, I believe that artisans will try their best to respond to any work orders they receive.

At Hikoju Makie, we want to provide work to these artisans before they lose their spirit in the aftermath of the earthquake, hoping to connect them to a future of hope.

Even though somebody loses everything in a disaster such as an earthquake, as long as s/he has hope, s/he can restart, and rebuild, from nothing.  Hope in his/her heart has no physical element itself, but it is the source of power to create something. 

Japan has encountered numerous natural disasters in its long history.  Wakamiya-san’s message has reminded me of the power of hope, that my ancestors have always resorted after each disaster. 

Let me believe that I also have that power in me. 

Life and Sweeping the Floor

Is there any similarity between the two?

It’s an early Saturday morning. Raining.  Is it mist or cloud covering the sky?  My husband is still in bed.  I go downstairs, pick up a dry mop, and start sweeping the hardwood floor in the living room. 

Although the floor looks clean, after several trips back and forth between the walls, the mop collects cotton-like dust, strings of long hair, and other small particles (breadcrumb?).

It’s my weekly chore, for sure, but I kind of like this monotonous movement of my body. 

No matter how thoroughly I sweep today, the floor will be filled with the yucky-looking things again.  Is cleaning, like sweeping the floor, such a hopeless action with little value added to one’s life?  Then why do I like it?  Why do I refuse to hire somebody to do this chore for me?


“Life decreases or keeps constant its entropy by feeding on negative entropy.”  This is a concept introduced by Nobel-laureate physicist Erwin Schrödinger in his 1944 book “What is Life.”   

When I heard this sentence on a podcast, I found out why I like sweeping the floor.

Cleaning is an act of decreasing entropy.  It’s an analogy of life. By cleaning, I must have been experiencing what it means to live.