Less is Best

We just got back from two weeks in Japan and I want to take down some observations I made while there. A comment made by one of my fellow students at College, gave me the topic for this post.

He was talking philosophically about the Western obsession with wanting bigger and better options, or more of everything. The discussion was about Western health care approaches. He cited examples of how we deal with illness, like hitting infections with increasingly more powerful doses of drugs, increasing numbers of vaccines are being touted as essential for health and treatments for serious illness like cancer usually involve the most powerful drugs available, administered in the largest possible doses.

The problem with this approach, is that we now have superbugs, resistant to even the most powerful drugs available, we have increasing numbers of people having allergic reactions to drugs that their bodies can't handle and increasing numbers of people, who having no further options for treatment, once they have exhausted all that is available, feel the despair and hopelessness that not even the best that there is to offer, can help them.

In contrast to the bigger/stronger is best approach, we have natural medicines like herbs and homeopathics. These are not fast acting, powerful treatments. Herbs take time to work, depending on the severity and nature of the illness. A chest infection may take a week to notice change, two if it's very bad. Sometimes homeopathics can work immediately, like in the case of hayfever attacks. I usually find that allium cepa will work within an hour or so. For chronic conditions, however, they can take much longer, perhaps weeks.

I'm not suggesting that herbs and homeopathics are the answer to all illness. I do, however think that if more people tried them for typical ailments like coughs and colds, instead of going for the biggest dose of the best drug possible, first, that the pressure for doctors to be supplying powerful drugs all the time, will come down. Herbs and homeopathics work, without a doubt, but you won't see any self-respecting GP prescribing them and this is a regrettable situation in our society, I feel.

So, how does this idea apply to Japan? Well, Japan has traditionally been a country that embraces the opposite philosophy to biggest and best, by eschewing minimalist ideas. Zen is at the heart of this idea and you see it reflected in traditional designs all over the country. You see it in the small portions served in meals, and in the simple games that children play at group activities.

I watched a group of lower primary-aged children play outside our Youth Hostel in Hagoromo when we first arrived. They were divided into teams and were given the task of forming lines radiating out from a central point on the pavement, using pebbles and stones that they could find lying around. The team that reached the outer circle first, was the winning team. I could see the dedication to which these children set to their task and the enjoyment they got from the exercise, despite the fact that they were doing the simplest of activities, using the lowliest of materials.

That's not to say that Japan is free from excess. Despite the recession that has dragged on for the last 10 years or more, ever since the 80s boom, Japan is still a major consumer country and shopping districts are filled with busy shoppers keen for a bargain, oblivious to the most horrendous form of noise pollution possible, with blaring music and screaming sales pitches.

The country is also gripped by an obsession with technology and this is reflected in people's homes, where there are increasing numbers of gadgets to do daily tasks, as well as people's daily reliance on gadgets like cell phones, GPS and other technology for information and entertainment.

It would seem that Japan has adjusted reasonably well to the recession, however and I wonder if it's because as a people, they are capable of finding contentment with less. I noticed that previous excessive practices had changed, even from when we lived there last, to now. In the 80s-90s, you could only find perfectly unblemished fruit and vegetables at the store. Spotted and stained fruit was usually discarded for the juice market. This is no longer the case. Previously, on sodai-gomi days, we could walk around our neighbourhood and find enough discarded items thrown out onto the street for collection, to furnish an entire apartment with every possible needed item. I never had to buy a rice cooker, t.v., CD player, futon or chairs when I lived in Japan-I got it all from the sodai-gomi. Now this is no longer the case. People are hanging onto their goods, rather than throwing them out as soon as they are scratched or when one of the less important features of a unit stops working.

It was certainly high time that Japan came down from the excesses of the economic boom. Now it feels more in line with the practices of conservation observed in less wealthy countries and I for one am glad to see such changes. I have a strong sense however, that such changes are really only pulling Japan back into line with its traditional past.

If meal portions are any indication of a country's attitudes to use of resources, Japan has remained consistent here. Portions are still small, as they have always been. A typical meal will have a wide variety of small items, making it easy to digest. This leads to an appreciation of each of the items on offer and a satisfied, but not loaded up feeling at the end of the meal.

After spending time in Japan and adjusting to the smaller meals, it's always a shock to return to Australia or the U.S., where portions seem to be getting bigger and bigger. I wonder if Americans and Australians really realise what damage they're doing to themselves, when they consistently eat huge amounts of food?

I'll never forget the time when we drove out to see Brian's family in New Mexico. While at a mall, I ordered a banana smoothie from a stand. It was huge, even though I hadn't chosen the biggest size available. I slowly drank it all, walking around the mall and later that day we drove back to our home in Arizona.

About two hours into the trip I felt waves of abdominal cramps and told Brian to pull over. It was pitch black outside, deep in the expanse of Arizona back country. I was terrified of squatting down in the long spiky grass in the pitch black, but the waves were coming strong and fast. I dragged down my pants and gripping onto the car door frame with both hands, aimed my rear end out into the desert night.

Needless to say that my body was letting me know that it didn't appreciate the excess of a couple of dozen ounces of milk or more and that I never made the same mistake again.

I don't need any further convincing, that less is best.