Powerful Encouragement - 激励

On the morning of New Year’s Eve, I learned that my mentor had passed away.

This individual was, by any measure, a distinguished figure—having served as a Japanese ambassador and the head of a government-affiliated organisation. After stepping down from these prominent roles, he utilised a volunteer programme within the very organisation he once led (JICA) to work, as a senior volunteer, in the small island nation in the South Pacific where I was living as a UN Volunteer (UNV) at the time. This was twenty years ago.

My direct interaction with him lasted only a few months, during which we met three or four times and exchanged words. After I left the island, our contact was limited to annual emails during the year-end or New Year period. There were years when I didn’t send my greetings, and the last reply I received from him was several years ago. In his message, he mentioned that his health was declining due to illness. Since then, whenever I thought of him, I wondered how he was doing.

Just last week, as the year was drawing to a close, I hit "send" on a long-overdue greeting email. Moments later, the email bounced back, marked undeliverable. It was the same email address he had used consistently for twenty years. With a growing sense of unease, I searched his name online, and among the search results, I saw the phrase, "In memory of Mr. Fujita." He had passed away a year and a half earlier.

When I think back to my interactions with him twenty years ago and the occasional exchanges over the following two decades, one word comes to mind: "Encouragement." In Japanese, 激励 goes beyond just "encouragement"; it conveys a powerful and heartfelt form of encouragement, urging someone forward with deep sincerity and strength. I believe the subject line of one of his email replies was even titled "激励."

Twenty years ago, I was applying for the "JPO programme" that placed staff in international organisations. I went to the island nation with the earnest hope of gaining field experience in development aid to increase my chances of success. The interview took place in Geneva, Switzerland. I traveled there on a "round-the-world ticket," transferring between multiple flights.

Yet, during the interview, I already felt things weren’t going well. At the time, I was so determined to pass this programme that I felt it was my only path forward. Returning to the island, I was deeply disheartened.

When the results came, I was listed as an alternate candidate. I thought, "Of course… as an alternate, I’ll likely have to reapply next year and start over. Another year feels so long…" My spirits were low.

The first time I met Mr Fujita, I was struck by his approachable demeanour. Despite his distinguished career, he never made me feel as though I had to tread carefully or treat him with formality. His openness encouraged me, and within moments, I found myself asking, "May I consult you on something personal?"—a bold request for someone I had just met.

Not only did he encourage me to visit him anytime, but he also said, "It would be an honour." I was deeply moved by his words.

Ten days later, I visited him and received invaluable advice. A month after that, he was the first to inform me that I had been promoted from alternate to a successful candidate.

Feeling as though I was on top of the world, I wrote in my journal that day:

"Meeting Mr. Fujita, and experiencing his sincere engagement with me, is something I will cherish and carry in my heart forever. I will never forget this day. I aspire to be someone who, no matter how small the person before me, treats them with unwavering sincerity. I vow to magnify this opportunity a hundredfold and pay it forward."

The advice and words he shared with me are recorded in detail in my journal from that time. Reading them now, I feel a nostalgic sense of gratitude for his wisdom.

But more than his words or advice, what has stayed with me over these twenty years is his warmth, his genuine care, and the way he stood beside me with kindness. Whenever I exchanged messages with him or thought of him, I felt enveloped by his compassion.

Learning of his passing and reflecting on his memory, I’ve come to realise that his very existence was a source of "powerful encouragement" for me.

Looking back at my journal from twenty years ago, I am reminded of the value of treating everyone, no matter how small, with sincere care. I also recognise the difficulty of living up to that standard. As I reflect on these past two decades, I find myself disappointed by the times when I fell short of this aspiration.

Still, I am grateful for the chance to revisit my mentor’s legacy and to internalise the immense encouragement he gave me. There are many days and years ahead of me yet.

I want to live my life chasing the bright, warm encouragement my mentor embodied—like following the sun’s warmth.

Thank you very much, Mr. Fujita.

[While the article has been translated from the original Japanese into English with the help of AI, its message, energy, and nuances have been carefully preserved.]