Dear Yuko Nishikawa Sensei,
Over the last two years, through our many discussions, I have often felt a sense of clarity slowly emerging from the haze that had long lingered deep within me. I am deeply grateful for the richness of the time we have shared.
“Don’t dance skillfully—dance rightly.”
I understand that these were words often shared with you by your late father and master, Senzō-sensei. They continue to echo deeply within my heart.
People are shaped by the circumstances in which they find themselves, and they can be swayed in either good or bad directions. Yet when one lets go of the ego and faces things in a natural, open state, good movement arises of its own accord. When I came to think that this may be how the gods guide us, something settled deeply within me, as if a long-held truth had finally fallen into place.
Lately, I have found myself feeling, quite unexpectedly, that plants are like close companions. No matter what happens, they remain open and untroubled, simply living in the present moment.
Long ago, people in Japan—perhaps people throughout the world—lived in awe of nature, loving it and sensing themselves as part of it. Yet it seems to me that those of us living in the modern age have, before we realized it, left that sensibility far behind.
In the world of enterprise, I often find myself forced to choose between remaining true to the values I believe in, or adjusting my pace to match the logic of those around me. In the midst of such moments, I waver and feel uncertain. Yet when I ultimately choose the path I believe to be right, things seem, quite naturally, to begin flowing in a good direction. Looking back afterward, I am often struck by how clearly it appears that the choice made at that moment was indeed the right one.
If that is so, then at all times and in all circumstances, we need only continue making our decisions as one would dance rightly—naturally, with an open and unclouded heart. This is a lesson I feel I have been taught by both the late Master Senzō and by you, Yuko-sensei.
This worldview—one that accepts oneself humbly as a small being while holding nature in reverence—once quietly lived within long-standing traditions, customs, and ways of life. Over the past one hundred and fifty years, however, that sensibility has gradually been diminished. Even so, I believe that by returning our gaze to tradition, we can recover it, and that traditional performing arts have an important role to play in this process.
It is my hope that “Yu no Kai” may grow into a place that helps awaken this sensibility that we have nearly forgotten.
Masato Takahashi
CEO, upnext, Inc.
Dear Mr. Masato Takahashi,
It has been nearly two years since we launched “Yu no Kai” with the aim of giving tangible form to the significance of traditional performing arts in the present day. I would like to thank you sincerely for bringing into this initiative both new ideas and unexpected connections with fields beyond my own.
I find great reassurance in the truth that you have brought to light. Within a sensibility that recognizes as beautiful what has endured as tradition, there lies a power to correct the structures that make modern society so difficult to live in.
Through our discussions, we have often ventured into philosophical territory, touching on history and views of life and death, and you have introduced me to many thought-provoking books, including “Rita Towa Nanika? (What is altruism?)”, edited by Asa Ito. For me, as someone whose expression is grounded in the body, these encounters have been a deeply stimulating form of intellectual training. It is also clear to me that, as an entrepreneur and company owner, you are constantly reflecting on the social significance of your company and on what constitutes a better way of working and living for individuals.
I strongly resonate with your idea of entrusting important decisions to a self that has let go of ego—that is, a self that remains natural, open, and unclouded, rather than one that is swept along by external pressures.
You kindly took up my father Senzō’s teaching: “Don’t dance skillfully—dance rightly.”
I believe that one reaches the qualification to dance rightly only by casting aside personal desire—the wish to please or to appear accomplished—and by making the forms handed down by one’s predecessors fully one’s own.
The path you have taken, Mr. Takahashi—launching a company in pursuit of what might be called a “right enterprise,” grounded not only in the logic of capital or economic efficiency but also in mutual support and the spirit of living beyond the self—strikes me as a rich example from which I, too, have much to learn, even though the form differs from my own field.
In the world of Nihon Buyo, the accumulation of long-established customs can sometimes lead to a closed, inward-looking sphere sustained only by masters, disciples, and aficionados. To avoid falling into such a state, I believe that the management of a dance organization should instead learn from the rationality of sound practices in the business world. In this respect, I place great expectations on your abilities.
As a small gesture in return for the many meaningful books you have introduced to me, I would like to share a poem by Shuntarō Tanikawa. In his poem “Ikiru (To Live)”, he writes:
“To encounter all that is beautiful,
and to carefully refuse the evils that lie hidden…”
In a world embracing both purity and imperfection, this seems to me to suggest one way of living well. By nurturing a sensibility that can truly recognize beauty as beauty, and by increasing opportunities to encounter it, I hope that “Yu no Kai” may be of some service, however modest, in supporting such a way of life.
I sincerely hope that we may continue to work together on both the planning and realization of future projects, and that your involvement with this initiative will further enrich your broader activities within society.
Yuko Nishikawa