Happy New Year!
I wish that this year will be a good one for you.
I wish that this year will be a good one for you.
In Japan, New Year’s Day is the first day we welcome Toshigami-sama ( Japanese kami and a part of the Shinto pantheon), the deity of the year. Families, relatives, and friends gather to celebrate together. People visit their local shrine or a shrine or temple in the direction considered auspicious for that year, praying for peace, safety, and well-being in the year ahead.
Since I live in the United States, instead of going to a shrine or temple, my New Year’s Day tradition has been to hike into the Santa Monica Mountains to watch the first sunrise of the year and offer my prayers there. I’ve been doing this for nearly thirty years.
This year, however, we had heavy rain. I stayed up through the night, listening to weather reports, hoping that if the rain eased into a drizzle, I could still go. But the rain continued, and I realized the mountain trails were probably unsafe—muddy and unstable. I made the difficult decision to stay home.
Not being able to go see the first sunrise, something I’ve done for so many years, felt like my New Year’s start had been taken away from me. I felt an emptiness open up inside.
Absentmindedly, I turned on the TV. The local news was showing severe mudslides in areas already devastated by last year’s wildfires, where people had lost their homes. Then, on Japanese news, I saw coverage marking two years since the devastating earthquake that struck the Noto Peninsula in Ishikawa Prefecture on New Year’s Day—magnitude 7.6, seismic intensity 7. Six hundred ninety-eight lives lost, and even now, two people are still missing.
When disasters strike at the beginning of a new year, how do people find the strength to move forward?
Watching the people in Noto observing a “New Year’s Day of remembrance,” I suddenly felt ashamed of myself. How foolish I had been to feel so depressed just because I couldn’t see the sunrise—when I am healthy, have a warm home to protect me from winter cold, a husband I love, our animal family, and even a comforting bowl of ozōni to enjoy.
I felt strongly again how precious this life is, and that I want to continue doing what I can, right now, with what I have.
At the end of last year, I wrote a blog highlighting 2025. But the truth is, even if today feels peaceful, we never know what tomorrow will bring.
That afternoon, a friend who wanted to try embroidery for the first time came over. She brought a 100 Embroidery Stitches book by the coats & clarks book no.150 publshed in 1964.
I reset my spirits and celebrated the New Year together with ozōni and Eric’s delicious flax, hemp, and chia seed waffles.
After that, I demonstrated how to do blanket stitch embroidery, and she began her very first embroidery project. Later, I spent some quiet time hand-stitching a scissors holder for my Sashiko workshops, using a recycled tin can and scissors-patterned fabric.
By the time we finished our stitches, my gloomy mood had completely lifted. After the friend left, Eric and I started talking about travel plans for the year—we’re thinking of going a bit farther than usual this time. Then the rain finally stopped, the sun appeared, and we decided to go to the beach to watch the first sunset of the year instead.
The sky was a dramatic canvas, filled with layers of clouds. During the hour before sunset, I quietly looked around. So many people had come to the beach—some were swimming, children were wading into the ocean fully dressed, and seagulls and sandpipers looked perfectly content.
Since I started Aqua Yoga last September, I joked, “If I keep doing Aqua Yoga all year and strengthen my legs, maybe next New Year I’ll be able to swim in the ocean too.”
Eric replied with his own joke, “Why not swim now?”
Eric replied with his own joke, “Why not swim now?”
The old me might have taken that as a challenge and done something reckless – jumping into the water right away. But I don’t do that anymore. This year, I want to watch, take my time, make plans, and someday make them real. I realized I really like this version of myself.
So I smiled and said to Eric, “Today, I set a goal—to swim next year.”
Before long, the sun steadily emerged from behind the clouds gaving us a powerful, radiant sunset light. It was as if it was shining extra brightly to make up for the sunrise I couldn’t see in the morning.
Such a magnificent light.
I saluted the sun—full of respect and gratitude.
Thank you.
That was all I felt.
Just thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Just thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
I look forward to this year with gratitude.
With love,
Sanae ❤️
Sanae ❤️