GROWING UP, I was enamored by the Japanese aesthetic. Shadows, rock gardens, vibrant autumn foliage contrasting gritty neon cities. These elements arise from different worlds — future and past; pleasure and pain; wisdom and rebellion — two sides of the same coin.

Contemporary Japan could not be one without the other, as the dance of yin and yang gives this country an otherworldly nature which called me here for the first time five years ago.

It’s not something tangible I can pinpoint; it’s an ethereal thread that flows through one’s being as sensations.

It’s not Tokyo Tower or Kyoto’s Golden Pavilion that inspire these feelings. To me, it often comes when wandering off the main road, lost in something alive and flawed and ancient.

Part of the Japanese aesthetic is exemplified in the philosophy of wabi-sabi, a sort of beautiful decay, purposeful disarray, perfect imperfection.

The details evoke the most. A handmade bowl. The dust of a soba shop. A forgotten arcade. The moonshine on a window or the color of a flower in one’s garden after rain. It’s something in the weight of silence.

The earth turns and I feel it deeply. Winter’s depth grows stark after the festivals of summer. The breath of spring is welcomed despite how I dreamt of autumn. I’ve lived in Japan for a little over two years, and I know I’m in touch with this undefinable glow — a sort of warmth that calls to me — when I’m overcome by curiosity.

I feel a reverence for this country I’ve called home, and words can’t do it justice. Red wooden bridges, silvery streets, green river water. What I feel entwines with childhood, being a kid obsessed with Pokémon — innocent. Pokémon was just a game, but maybe it sparked my desire for adventure in life at a young age.

Sometimes kids need an escape from a world they can’t understand, or perhaps, that they understand too well. Now I’m the hero of my own story. I don’t want to escape reality. I want to immerse myself as deeply as I can in it.

I moved to Japan because my curiosity urged me on, telling me to embrace the breadth of our world — its light, its shadow, its love and its pain. Life is a miracle.

I can’t comprehend the way things are taking shape, why I’m called to travel, feel, and create. I’m here and I’m doing it. I know I’m making my inner kid proud, following my intuition as truly as I can.

It’s getting colder, and as it does, the childlike flame ignites in me. The air is fresh. I inhale deeply. Summer in Japan has its own charming qualities, but frankly, it’s too hot to wander without sweating buckets.

I love autumn more than any other season. It’s contemplative and best to be outdoors with a good jacket. As I roam through Tokyo, I marvel at a glowing shrine beneath a blanket of cloud. The weather is cool, the season unrushed.

The leaves will slowly come alive in a great wave of color before drifting asleep. Every year, we rediscover what the seasons mean to us. As autumn rolls around, I feel like a kid, rediscovering his favorite toy after time gathering dust.

I go where the day leads me — back to center, lost, back to me, caught in the rhythm of my breathing and the essence of my soul. I can build a life on following this feeling, the sensation of curiosity, a glow, a warmth, a light that guides me no matter how dark the world seems.

I can’t explain it. I feel alive.