The Anatomy of a Perfect Moment

Anatomy

Sometimes, everything just fits. Like finding the blessed final piece that will complete a jigsaw puzzle. Like discovering the right lock for a key you inherited from a loved one. The problem is, we often can’t force these moments. They arise when we least expect them to. So often, we fall in love when we’re not looking for connection. We find success when we’re not searching for aspiration. It’s only by allowing the strings of fate and circumstance to run their theatre that we make room for wonder… and reap its benefits.

There’s no precise formula for a perfect moment. Everyone engages with and reflects on life differently, with vast divides in understanding and upbringing. It’s one of those magic things that, when explained to someone else, may not elicit the same wondrous reaction. It’s more than okay for these moments to be personal and concave and, above all, fleeting.

Mine was exactly two minutes and 48 seconds long.

Beppu

In August of 2023, I was privileged enough to travel to Japan for a month, reuniting with my partner at the time who was studying abroad for that year. The first time we left the main island of Honshu, we took an overnight ferry from Osaka to a small bay city called Beppu on the northeastern coast of Kyushu.

The day itself we spent in and around Beppu was glorious — the area is especially known for its natural hot springs, of which we visited around three separate sites. The colours and the steam given off by the acidic waters were a sight to behold! Moreover, we rented a car and took a drive out to the nearby spa district of Yufuin. There, we visited the so-called ‘Floral Village’, a compact assortment of tiny shops, archways and fountains that served for whimsical exploration. To cap this all off, we stayed overnight in an onsen resort hotel (coincidentally my first experience in one thus far) and had access to all its traditional bathing facilities. Being completely nude in the presence of a large number of foreign strangers was certainly a trip the first time around, but you quickly get used to it. God, I love onsens.

All these amazing sights and senses are one thing, and effectively laid the mood for a relaxing evening, but they are merely context for the moment that arose afterwards, when I finally had the chance to enjoy my own company.

I decided to go for a walk.

Discovery

It must have been past 10 in the evening at this point, accounting for the bathing time and settling into the hotel. Really, I hadn’t intended the walk as anything more than further exploration, considering I’d seen multiple points of interest around Beppu we hadn’t had a chance to visit together. My partner was fairly tired by this point, so  decided to sit it out.

I popped my headphones in and walked from the hotel entrance down the road towards a ‘Don Quijote’ (what Japanese locals will affectionately refer to as ‘Donki’), which is a widespread discount store chain across Japan. They sell everything — I mean, really, from groceries to sex toys, packed to the ceiling to floor across  as many as 15 floors. 

The Beppu Donki had a casino-like design on the outside, so I’d fancied checking it out. As it happened, I never got that far, opting instead to veer off into a park on my right which connected to a beach.

Standing by the lapping waves on the sand was already such a tranquil moment amidst the ongoing cultural displacement I had been feeling. I noticed that I could walk along the beach to my right towards the block of buildings where our hotel was located, and hop up onto the promenade overlooking the bay. It was here that three things suddenly occurred to me, and fed into one of the most spiritual moments of my life.

Space

There was nobody around. Quite truly, it was deserted, with only the gentle sound of the waves to keep me company. The temperature was absolutely perfect, too. It was these things that allowed me to think and sort out a few things that had been bothering me.

My relationship with my partner had been on the rocks for a long time. We’d floated the idea of breaking up many times and had come to a form of agreement that Japan would be our last hurrah, and then we’d go our separate ways upon returning to British soil (which ended up happening as expected). 

I wanted some time to reflect on my actions throughout the relationship, whether I’d made myself proud, and additionally ponder my place in the world now that I’d finished university and left my best friends and memories behind. Moreover, I wanted to untie the spaghetti in my mind surrounding Japan and being the furthest away from home I’d ever been, coincidentally for the longest period of time.

The silence allowed me to hear these things more clearly than ever before, sounds which were accompanied by one of the most beautiful views I could have imagined.

Sight

For many years, I’d been enamoured by a particular feeling I struggled to verbalize to others. Calling it a ‘gentle wanderlust’ was never specific enough for me, and trying to elaborate on its specificity spawned long-winded descriptions that never truly captured its essence. It’s the feeling of being lost, but feeling safe. Of wanting to break free from societal norms and run away into the wilderness. Of seeing something in the distance, and not being satisfied with just seeing. There’s never a concise string of words that works for me.

So I wrote a play.

Streetlight is my most personal work, and one of the most significant locations to its narrative is the deserted aerodrome beside a sleepy Middle-England town — a vast, open space that once hosted illicit teenage parties at midnight for the youths around town. On the horizon of the view from this aerodrome is a city of streetlights, and the source of one character’s desire to escape his claustrophobic, small-town existence and travel the world. It’s a view like that, of distant lights hinting at discovery from a vantage point in the middle of nowhere, that elicits this feeling for me.

Beppu had this view, looking across the bay from the promenade wall towards a city in Honshu (presumably Seiyo or Yawatahama) with this den of streetlights. With a discovery so beautiful, I had to stop in my tracks… and, at that moment, a song started to play in my headphones.

Sound

I play a lot of video games and have collected vast amounts of video game music. One I’d played shortly before coming to Japan was called Spiritfarer, in which you assume the role of Stella, the eponymous ferrymaster, tasked with transporting the spirits of the deceased to the afterlife. A sweet game, with remarkably reflective themes and emotional strength.

The credits of this game contain a song (composed by Maxime Lacoste-Lebuis) called ‘What Will You Leave Behind?’ It was this song, and these lyrics, that played in the moment of my stopping, and it  crafted a resonance so striking, I started to cry.

I’d like to share with you a section of these lyrics, sung by the wonderful Maude Plante-Husaruk:

Flowing through the seas of time
Memories that were left behind
Bring us closer to the end of this journey where we grew as friends.
Take me through the mist and storms
And waters that are still unknown
Under guiding starlit sky, we will learn how to say goodbye…

And I’ll take your hand and guide you through
All the steps one takes to move on to
A place, a world unseen to us all
But it’s okay; we’ll be together, my friend…

Fragments

Sometimes, everything just fits. These were the three pieces that did it for me. Two minutes and 48 seconds, the duration of one chance song paired with all the context that weaved into this moment… I felt cocooned and warm. I felt settled and confident. I let go of certain things and forgave myself for certain others. It was a tiny explosion of feeling, and yet one of my favourite memories from this once-in-a-lifetime trip.

The factors that make us happy above all others are fragments of the things that we love and cherish. A lot of these things are born in childhood or moments of warmth and emerge in the most unexpected of circumstances as we grow older. Hold onto them. They can be our lifelines in times of darkness or confusion.