Old Kimonos — The Isoe Series (Part 3)
- Admin
- Jun 12
- 3 min read
Mr. Isoe, who lives in Kitami, Hokkaido, has been visiting KaradaNaoru since October 2021.
Looking back, it is a relationship for which I am truly grateful.
During the first year, he traveled from Hokkaido to Meguro almost every other week.
Even now, he continues to visit once a month.
Considering the distance alone, it is no small commitment.
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When I look back at his original appointment forms, they contain a long list of symptoms:
Severe dizziness that made it difficult to stand or sit
Microvascular angina
Chronic prostatitis
Lower back pain
Neck stiffness
and more.
Yet after about a year, those descriptions almost disappeared.
These days, his visits are mostly for maintenance.
Of course, that change was not created by me alone.
His positive attitude.
His willingness to continue.
And the trust he placed in me.
All of those factors accumulated over time.
Good health is truly beyond price.
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What makes Mr. Isoe remarkable is that his journey did not end with recovery.
Many people remain on the receiving side of healing.
He did not.
He continued attending training sessions, continued evolving, and gradually moved from being healed to becoming someone who helps others heal.
Even now, I struggle to think of another person who has undergone such a dramatic transformation.
As a scientist, he experienced things that could not easily be explained, and perhaps those experiences changed his worldview itself.
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Through Mr. Isoe’s body, I have also encountered many unusual experiences.
One day during a session, a strange impression appeared.
“Old kimonos.”
Not a kimono.
Old kimonos.
Plural.
I found myself asking,
“Have you recently met someone wearing traditional clothing?”
He replied,
“No, I haven’t. But I recently visited a place in Yonezawa called Musha-michi.”
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Musha-michi.
A historical road said to have been used by lower-ranking samurai.
The Yonezawa domain originally controlled 1.2 million koku of land.
After the Battle of Sekigahara, its holdings were reduced to 300,000 koku.
Later, when the third lord died without naming an heir, it was reduced again to 150,000 koku.
Yet the retainers did not abandon the domain.
And the lord did not dismiss his retainers.
As a result, Yonezawa continued supporting an unusually large number of samurai compared with domains of similar size.
When I learned this history, something about that impression suddenly made sense.
Loyalty.
Determination.
Resolve.
Perhaps those qualities had accumulated there for generations.
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Of course, none of this can be proven.
It may have been pure coincidence.
Yet when I think about it calmly, the phrase “old kimonos” is not something one normally says in modern Japan.
And still, those words appeared naturally.
It remains a mysterious experience even to me.
Eventually, however, that sensation faded quietly away.
Was it a person?
A place?
A memory?
I do not know.
What I do know is that attachment, determination, and unresolved emotions sometimes seem to outlive the people who carried them.
That is the feeling I have.
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There are places throughout Japan where history seems to linger.
Perhaps Musha-michi is one of them.
That does not mean there is anything to fear.
If a place makes you uncomfortable, you can restore balance.
You can let go of what no longer belongs to you.
You can release it.
As long as you continue to care for your own condition, there is no reason to live in fear.
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People are meant to move freely.
To visit the places they wish to visit.
To do the things they wish to do.
I believe that is one of the secrets to living well.
And so today, as always, I continue my work in Meguro—listening not only to what can be seen, but also to what cannot.
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