How the Magic Phrase 'Shikata-ga-nai' Saved Me from the Exhaustion of Always Being 'Right'

Introduction: The Poison Called Righteousness

I understand that feeling of "Why?" you are experiencing in your daily life in Japan right now—painfully so.

When I first came to Japan, my mind was always like a taut bowstring. "Why do they stick to old ways when there are more efficient methods?" "Why doesn't anyone speak up when something is clearly strange?"

At city hall counters, in workplace meetings, on packed trains. To my eyes, Japanese society looked like a world full of illogical things and points needing improvement. I even believed that pointing these out and changing them was my "justice"—my mission.

Every day was a battle. But when I happened to look in the mirror, what I saw was my own face, looking terribly grumpy with deep furrows between my eyebrows.

This article is a small story dedicated to you, who might be feeling hurt and tired in front of the "wall" of Japan, just as I once was. I want to tell you how I escaped that suffering and came to love my life in Japan, triggered by a certain magic phrase.

The Setback: 100% Correct, Yet No Allies

My "sense of justice" completely backfired shortly after I started working at a Japanese company.

In the regular meetings for a certain project, I was fed up with the massive amount of paper materials distributed every time. The content was all things that had already been shared via email beforehand. I made up my mind and made a proposal.

"Printing and distributing these materials is a waste of time and resources. Why don't we switch entirely to digital sharing and just use a projector for the meeting? That would be more efficient."

My argument should have been logically 100% correct. It was a perfect "sound argument" that no one could refute. However, the atmosphere in the meeting room froze in an instant.

My boss looked troubled and mumbled, "Well, that is true, but we've always done it this way..." while my colleagues awkwardly averted their gaze.

In the end, my proposal was brushed aside, and the same massive amount of paper was distributed the following week. Worse yet, from that day on, I was labeled as someone who "can't read the air" and is "difficult to handle," and I gradually became isolated in the workplace.

I was confused. "Why? I proposed the right thing, so why am I being treated like the bad guy?"

Organizing the differences in "premises" between myself and Japanese society—which I didn't understand back then—looks like this:

	My "Justice" (Logical Approach)	Japanese Society's "Reality" (Harmony Approach)
Priority	Efficiency, logical correctness, speed	Overall harmony, following precedent, not making waves
Problem Solving	Identify the cause and change it drastically	Accept the status quo and adjust little by little
Evaluation Criteria	How much result was produced	How well one coordinated with others

I was brandishing the weapon of "logic," unknowingly hurting the hearts of the people around me and disturbing the "Wa" (harmony) they cherished. A sound argument can sometimes become a sharp blade. I was using that blade to shred my own place in the community.

The Encounter: The Tea of 'Shikata-ga-nai' Brewed by a Master

It happened on a rainy day when I was exhausted both physically and mentally. I stepped into an old, worn-out coffee shop (Kissaten) in a back alley to take shelter from the rain.

I was the only customer. Inside the counter, an elderly master was slowly brewing coffee. Watching his gentle movements, the tension in me snapped, and I began to spill my complaints about work to the master. I talked about how inefficient and unreasonable Japanese society was.

The master listened to my story in silence, but when I had tired of talking, he placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of me and spoke quietly.

"You know, you're running too hard against the wind."

"Huh?" I looked up, and the master continued.

"When a strong wind blows, you don't have to force your way forward. You just need to stop, close your eyes, and wait for the wind to pass. That is what we call 'Shikata-ga-nai' here."

"Shikata-ga-nai" (It can't be helped). That was the Japanese phrase I hated the most. I thought it was a word of "resignation," "defeat," and a suspension of thought.

"Master, I don't want to give up. I want to change what is wrong," I retorted. The master smiled and said:

"You see, the word 'to give up' (akirameru) comes from the Buddhist concept of akiraka, which means 'to see clearly.' It means to see the true nature of things as they are. Admitting that there is a great flow beyond your own power and accepting it isn't losing. It is liberating yourself from suffering."

"Liberating yourself from suffering." That phrase pierced deep into my heart.

Practice: 'Shikata-ga-nai' on a Typhoon Day

It was several months later, on a day when a massive typhoon hit Tokyo, that I truly understood the meaning of the master's words.

Trains completely stopped due to planned suspensions. The area in front of the station gates was overflowing with people. The old me would have demanded of the station staff, "When will it move?!" or criticized the railway company's response on social media, letting my irritation explode.

However, when I looked around, many Japanese people were quiet. They were checking news on their smartphones, reading books, or simply sitting with their eyes closed. From their figures, I felt a quiet acceptance that "there is nothing to be done right now."

At that moment, the master's words came back to me. "When the wind blows, just close your eyes."

I took a deep breath and whispered in my heart. "...Shikata-ga-nai. This is a typhoon. It's beyond human power."

Then, a strange thing happened. The feelings of anger and impatience that had been swirling in the depths of my chest vanished. Instead, a calm sense of relief, similar to resignation but gentler, spread through me.

"Oh, this is fine."

I sat on a bench at the station and opened the paperback book I had with me. For the few hours until the trains started moving, I was able to spend the time with a surprisingly calm mind.

That was the moment I first "reconciled" with the country of Japan instead of fighting it.

Summary: The Magic Phrase That Sets You Free

From then on, I changed little by little. When faced with something unreasonable, before immediately entering combat mode, I started to stop and think.

• "Is this something I can fight and change?"
• "Or is this a 'Shikata-ga-nai' thing, like a typhoon?"

If it's the latter, I chant the magic phrase. "Well, shikata-ga-nai." By letting it go like that, I became able to use my own energy not for anger, but for more fun things and time with the people I cherish.

"Shikata-ga-nai" is by no means a negative phrase. It is the strongest mental defense skill for us to live in this imperfect world without breaking our hearts, and it is an act of kindness toward oneself.

To you who are suffering in Japan right now: Please, do not corner yourself with correctness. Why not whisper "Shikata-ga-nai" sometimes and take the weight off your shoulders?

The world may remain unreasonable, but your heart will surely become just a little bit lighter.