It has been several years since my visit to Tokyo. There was much to see, but my time in the city was abridged. I was taken with Tokyo’s vastness and denseness which would seem overwhelming at first, but the hardscape of the buildings were countered and interspersed with massively lush and serene parks throughout the city.

My favorite memory was walking down one of the many paths of Hamarikyu Garden.  The oppressive heat and humidity had given way to the clouds, and it had started to rain, gently, softly.

I meandered along a different path and listened as my sandals glided roughly across the gravel. I could hear the wind rustling and whistling through the field of wildflowers.

I couldn’t help but smile as the pace of the raindrops quickened into a light staccato creating a soprano melody as the drops from the sky merged with the garden’s lakes.

The pitter patter of the rain against the wooden boards of the bridge gave way to a more baritone sound, harmonizing with the soothing sounds of water, creating a setting and backdrop that was the perfect intermingling of peace and solitude. It was the first time I felt truly calm, at peace and centered in a place of contradiction, with the melding of the new and the old, the frenetic and the minimalist.

If there is a lesson to be learned, the sound of silence is what will help you find calm and peace regardless of where you are in place and time. For without the absence of sound, you cannot appreciate what is around you as the senseless chatter prevents you from being able to see clearly, hear succinctly or feel objectively.  My experience at Hamarikyu Garden is a reflection of the balanced, serene and observant life that I aspire to lead.