Savoring Autumn In a Japanese Cemetery

It’s the moments we don’t expect that mean the most

It was a crisp blue morning in Tokyo. At about 7 a.m. while on a walk, I passed through a large red torii gate I found beside the road in Numabukuro, the town next over from where I live in Nakano.

In Shinto — the ancient Japanese religion that maintains a reverence for the natural world — a torii gate signifies the transition from the everyday world to the sacred.

Stumbling upon a red torii gate amongst the sprawling sea of silver that is Tokyo happens rather frequently. When I come across these thresholds, I usually take a moment to stop and look around.

Doing so a couple of days ago led to one of the most beautiful moments I’ve had while living in Japan.

Being from Los Angeles, I never experienced the four seasons in all their glory. It’s why I wanted to come to Japan so badly for the first time five years ago.

Each season has its own unique allure, but after two years of living here, I can say with confidence that autumn is my favorite.

I imagine Japan hundreds of years ago, when the cities were made of wood and paper instead of metal, and the wonder of nature provided ceaseless inspiration for art and poetry, and beyond that, the will…