秋日

At long last, it feels as though the long and tedious summer has finally come to an end. Should I say that autumn has arrived? The late-night air has grown considerably cool. The season I love most out of the entire year has finally dawned.

Reflecting upon the intensely scorching summer of the past few months, I began to think that perhaps my path, too, had gradually set its course. The lectures that commenced in the spring drew to a close only after fully occupying a span of two months, and it was only after pouring out every ounce of that energy that I could firmly determine the path to follow next. As those days of deep deliberation passed, I reached out to select and pull forth the most radiant choice among the options available, yet I still found myself deeply agonized. Even though a choice had been made, I was still wandering.

Yet, even as I wandered, I no longer feel guilt or reproach myself for it. For wandering is necessary. From a standpoint of common sense, it was only natural. Just moments before stepping onto a colossal battlefield, one might bite their nails in trepidation, or lie awake trembling with fear. How many people could genuinely throw their bodies into the void without a shred of hesitation when skydiving? Furthermore, having tasted the bitterness of business failure four times already, the next challenge—no matter how much conviction I held—could not be initiated as audaciously as before. Prudence upon prudence. In a mood akin to pulling out perfectly fine clothes only to fold them one by one and place them back into the wardrobe, I repeatedly pulled out my anxieties only to fold them away again, wavering constantly between fear and the challenge ahead.

And now, I know only too well that this is precisely what life is. Wavering to and fro. Trembling in the face of fear, and putting off the tasks that must be done today under all manner of excuses, delaying them further and further. Human beings are inherently wired this way, and such moments are required by individuals in diverse forms. In the past, whenever I confronted even the slightest glimpse of vulnerability within myself, I would have met it with guilt or self-criticism, but that is no longer the case. It is not because I possess a blind faith that I can conquer any path, either. Rather, it seems to be because what I yearn for is not a monumental, overwhelming success, but rather arriving lightly at a very small, modest objective. I have realized that if I can just drive smoothly and slowly until I reach that specific point, then from that moment onward, I can accomplish far greater tasks—not solely by my own strength, but together with more people, alongside many others. A colossal undertaking cannot be achieved alone from the very outset; my only task is to simply prove a few basic things without the need to exhaust myself to the bone, traveling only as far as I am capable of going. That was the true nature of business.

Over the years, meeting countless individuals from every stratum of society—representatives, lobbyists, accountants, judicial scriveners, lawyers, and various other figures—I rapidly surveyed and mapped out their respective worlds. This was a feat possible precisely because it was me. If I possess one single, overwhelming talent, it is precisely this: whenever I encounter the rules of a new world, I thoroughly exhume the very reasons upon which those rules were erected, holding a natural-born gift for uncovering the deepest hidden mechanics of the game. Consequently, there is no longer anything grand for me to agonize over. It is merely the first bus stop at which I must arrive. It is simply a matter of walking to that place.

There is no fear, nor any thought that I will merely waste time through failure. Riding upon a certain current of a world unknown to me, I am continuing my voyage. I had lived believing I was entirely alone, steering a solitary vessel, yet far more people than I thought were watching over my journey—from a great distance to the closest proximity. When I contemplate their warm gazes and encouragement, I am reminded that a life such as this is not so bad after all. The world is, in truth, an alien space. It is rife with cold and stinging tribulations, yet the fact that there is someone who loves me irrespective of the reasons—even embracing my numerous flaws—does it not signify that this world is somehow worth living in?

Like the autumn that has caught me by surprise, I find myself wishing that my summer would end and a refreshing autumn would dawn. Yet, perhaps I look around and realize that I have already been living while savoring the scenery of autumn.