The Day I Accidentally Said, “That’s a Lot of Electricity”

This happened not long after I started this work.

It was about eight years ago.

Back then, I wasn’t yet able to sense things as specifically as I sometimes do now. Still, every once in a while, there were people who felt somehow unusual the moment they entered the room.

One day, a middle-aged man came to the salon.

He wasn’t particularly large or physically intimidating. Just an average build with nothing especially remarkable about his appearance.

And yet, the moment I touched his body, I felt an unusual heaviness.

Heavy — but not in the sense of body weight.

It felt more like the air around him was dense, almost electrically charged. As if some invisible energy was surrounding him and filling the space.

Without really thinking, I asked:

“What kind of work do you do?”

Normally, especially with first-time clients, I avoid asking personal questions like that.

But that day, I was genuinely curious.

He replied,

“I work in a factory.”

I still didn’t know what kind of factory it was, but I immediately found myself saying:

“There’s something… very electrical about you.”

He looked surprised.

“Really?”

Then after a pause, he said:

“Well… actually, it’s a pharmaceutical factory. During the manufacturing process, we use something like a gigantic microwave machine.”

Apparently, the machine consumed so much electricity that other electrical usage in the facility had to be reduced while it was operating.

He himself worked quite far away from the machine.

And yet, I still felt something very strong.

Of course, I can’t scientifically explain what I sensed.

Still, discussions about electromagnetic influence have existed for a long time.

The reality is that modern people can hardly escape it.

Smartphones.

Wi-Fi.

Satellites.

Bluetooth.

Power lines.

Invisible energies constantly move through the spaces around us.

Some spiritual practitioners even claim that spirits themselves are a form of electricity.

Whether that is true or not, perhaps humanity still understands very little about the unseen aspects of reality.

I’ve thought about this even more since moving last year from Nakameguro in Tokyo to the countryside of Chiba.

Strangely enough, my body feels much lighter there.

I still go into Tokyo almost every day, but when I drive back home to Shisui, I feel relieved the moment I arrive.

It has become the place where I feel most at ease.

A large old 9DK house.

A garden my father-in-law carefully maintains.

A quiet shrine nearby.

The sound of the wind.

There was a time when I loved the stimulation of the city.

But now, the noise and intensity of urban life sometimes feel almost overwhelming.

Of course, I don’t know how long this feeling will last.

Still, I think there may be something deeply valuable about stepping away from the chaos of the city and living more quietly, even for a while.