From the Mountains, into the River, and to the Sea Again: Letting Go of Autopilot to Welcome Sensibilities Oozing from Within [Suiryu Exploration Program in Kumano & Nachi: Experience Report]
In May 2026, the Suiryu Exploration Program in Kumano & Nachi took place. Guided by Mr. Sato from Elcami Trip—who invites travelers on journeys around life in Kumano and Nachi—and Yasu Kobayashi, representative of Ecological Memes, participants merged with the dynamic connection between the mountains and the sea. Surrendering themselves to the deep, fundamental roots flowing through this land, they explored their internal Suiten (points of convergence).
This article is a guest contribution by Naomi Yoshida, one of the program participants, as she reflects on her journey.The moment I saw the announcement, my heart wouldn't stop racing.
It was a three-day exploration program set in Kumano, Nachi, and Katsuura, centered around natural historian Minakata Kumagusu’s concept of Suiten (points of convergence). It was hosted by Yoshiaki and Yukari Sato—a couple I had met two years ago at elcamino delpoeta in Katsuura—and Yasu from Ecological Memes. Although the participation fee was by no means cheap, I couldn't ignore my intuition. Last year, I dove into a program by Giles Hutchins, author of Regenerative Leadership, in a forest near London, where I gained an indescribably profound bodily awareness. The lingering resonance of that experience was naturally connected to my high expectations for this journey.
Suiten refers to a single point where all kinds of flows converge and intersect. These three days themselves became an experience where the "river" of my own self intersected with numerous other currents, eventually flowing out into the ocean.
Day 1: The Moss Softly Pushes Back
As the previous day's rain cleared into sunny skies, I stepped off the train at Kii-Katsuura Station. Swayed gentle by the microbus, enveloped in the peace of mind that came from trusting our driver completely, we listened to Yoshiaki share stories of Kumano and Yasu explain the local topography. Returning to Kumano for the first time in two years, the joy and sacredness of that previous trip rushed back to me. At the same time, I realized just how much I had changed over these past two years. Above all, the mountains were breathtakingly beautiful.
Wrapped in mist, we headed to Irokawa Shrine. As the sound of the flowing river echoed around us, we stepped onto the grounds of the small shrine. The moss was truly magnificent. Surrounded by water-rich mountains and sheltered by tall trees, the moss sparkled with vibrant life in its own unique way, coexisting with fungi and even smaller microscopic beings. When I placed my foot upon it, the moss softly pushed back. I couldn't help but wonder what the soil and fungi beneath were like. From the moss, I felt a soft, cushiony texture—a feeling of "fluffiness" I had previously only experienced from the forest floor.
The uplifted mountains are a symbol of connection—we were welcomed and became one.
Lying on the ancient bed and breathing in the scent of the land,
A sense of peace spread throughout my entire body.
Warming my core, I melted into unity from there.
The constantly flowing energy streams into my body, and then flows back out.
Every single breath is a continuous exchange.
Revealing its beautiful form to delight us—we are welcomed.
Let us go deeper, deeper, and deeper.
(Accompanied by Suiten Word Cards: "Invisible Violence" and "Agency of Non-Human Beings")
Guided by Yasu, I laid face down on top of the moss. Abandoning myself to the ground while thinking, "I'm going to get wet," I was enveloped in an unexpectedly comforting scent. It wasn't quite a forest scent, nor was it a grass scent. It was an unprecedented beauty woven together by moss, soil, water, and countless living creatures. At the same time, a soft support reached my chest and stomach, and a deep sense of peace gradually expanded within me.
On the other hand, during the first workshop—a short self-introduction after drawing a card—I couldn't simply listen to what was being spoken; I faintly realized that a sense of judgment was rising within me. Including that judgment, the journey had begun.
On the way to Amida-ji Temple, we visited the terraced rice paddies of the Irokawa area. As we climbed higher, the fog grew thicker, and by the time we arrived, we couldn't see more than a few meters ahead. Hearing that on clear days one could see all the way to the ocean, we waited as the mist showed no signs of moving. Yasu blew a conch shell (horagai), its sound echoing across the valley. As if pulling us back just as we gave up and prepared to leave, the mist suddenly cleared away all at once. The terraced paddies, which until then had existed only in our imagination, revealed themselves before our eyes.
A series of terraced rice fields framed by soft, organic curves. Half were filled with water; half were not yet. Our ancestors, rather than seeking efficiency by carving out uniform squares, had opened themselves to the natural order of flowing water. I was deeply moved by that embodied wisdom. The emotion felt precisely because we were teased by the fog—I physically received the meaning of time expressed in the Suiten card phrase, "taking time and effort."
Afterward, we headed toward the Inner Sanctuary (Oku-no-in) of Amida-ji Temple. As I climbed the stone steps, slippery from the recent rain, my feet froze with memories of slipping and falling on my previous visit. Yoshiaki and Yasu gently cared for us, saying, "Let's take it easy without pushing ourselves." Yet, I involuntarily blurted out, "I'm fine!" It was an automatic reaction—the feeling that I shouldn't rely on others or disrupt the group's pace. But softly letting go of that internal voice, I simply adjusted my steps to the rhythm of my breath. Painful, heavy legs, slipping. As I looked up while experiencing those three physical sensations, I realized I was on a beautiful mountain path bathed in sunlight filtering through the trees. There was moss, young saplings, and decaying wood—a truly diverse world.
At the Inner Sanctuary, Yasu guided us through a breathing and meditation exercise. Sitting directly facing the sun, we continued breathing alongside the mountain while sensing sunlight filtering through the leaves. The breath I exhaled returned to the mountain, and fresh air entered naturally. Opening my sensitivity to the farthest sounds first, and then to the closest ones, I felt my ears themselves transform depending on where I directed my awareness.
For dinner, we enjoyed a comforting, nostalgic meal prepared by Sayuri at elcamino delpoeta. Sayuri was born as the daughter of a fresh fishmonger and opened the shop with Yoshiaki after working as a fruit and vegetable broker. Featuring fresh raw tuna landed in Katsuura and local vegetables from Irokawa, it was a time to pour the vibrant energy of Katsuura's food into our bodies through Sayuri's cooking.
Day 2: From the Power of Yin to the Power of Yang
On the second day, after walking the Daimon-zaka slope and visiting Kumano Nachi Taisha Shrine, Seiganto-ji Temple, and Nachi Falls, we headed to the river. Carrying lunch boxes prepared by Sayuri, on our way to another waterfall, we had to cross a fast-flowing river. My body recoiled in fear. Yasu took my hand and guided me forward. I had no choice but to rely on him. If I got injured, I would stall the entire group's flow—realizing this, I forgot everything else and chose to "rely."
Has relying on others always been such a high hurdle? It is fundamentally different from being spoiled or dependent. When moving as a tribe, the vulnerable are protected, and those with strength lend it. Acknowledging one's own powerlessness and actively choosing to accept help—here, perhaps, lies the threshold to a relationship that is neither hierarchical nor strictly horizontal, but diagonal. Diving headfirst into "being helped." That was a monumental step forward for me.
Immersing my feet in the river water, the cold, rapid current washed away my fatigue. The shifting, flowing water appeared to be living vibrantly and delighting in its own existence. Some currents chose right; others chose left. They gracefully accepted that they would never return here nor remain static. I realized my own existence as a constituent of the material cycle—there is nothing fixed or permanent about us at all.
Suiten Words: What to Let Go Of, What to Welcome
By the riverside, and again during journaling on the morning of the third day, I reflected on the present moment through the lens of "What I Want to Let Go Of / What I Want to Welcome" alongside the Suiten Word Cards.
What I felt I wanted to let go of was the ability to automatically search for answers and my high sensitivity toward finding them. Whenever I tried to listen to others, my well-worn mental circuits would activate, driving me to search for a plausible "answer" on the spot. Desires like "meaning well" or "wanting to be helpful" only heightened that sensitivity further.
And what I wanted to welcome was a sensibility oozing from within. The space, breathing room, margin, and stillness to fully experience my own sense of comfort. A grounded feeling. Keeping my ears and my entire body wide open to the reality that I am connected to everything.
"Cherish the faint internal voices." Pain, sadness, anger, emptiness—those faintly audible voices are precisely the ones waiting to be heard. On this journey, the voice inside me that sought "an absolute, reassuring presence to protect my tender self" was finally heard. I felt deeply grateful for this realization.
Day 3: When Tears Merge with the Sea
Before dawn, noticing the area behind the sliding paper doors (shoji) stained in deep orange, I jumped out of bed and rushed to Ojaiura. From the point where deep red merged with the ocean, the sun slowly rose. Even as the world became bathed in light, the sun itself simply ascended in serene detachment.
And finally, to the sea for water floating. "You're wearing a life jacket, so you definitely won't sink"—though my head understood, my body didn't believe it. Words like "You're useless, you're clumsy" echoed from somewhere like a curse. I was scared. I had no choice but to ask for help. When I admitted, "I'm afraid of the sea," Yasu and Yoshiaki prepared to assist, saying, "Understood. We'll go together." While being watched over, taking one step at a time on my own feet allowed a small sense of confidence to build inside me.
Floating on my back. Although the tension in my neck relaxed, the tension in my shoulders and arms proved hard to release. Still, overall, I was floating softly, drifting.
Inside a sea cave, a moment to reconnect with my mother arrived. Surrounded, embraced, and supported by Yasu, Yoshiaki, and my fellow travelers—tears started welling up, accompanied by lingering sadness and loneliness. I simply continued to sit with that helpless feeling. Just before a tear spilled over, an intuitive thought struck me: "The moment my tear merges with the sea, a period will be placed on my childhood experience of separation." That was precisely what happened. As the tear spilled over, all tension drained from my body, and life force began to circulate again.
Water seeps through layers of life that died in the mountains and returned to the soil, becoming rivers and spring water before connecting to the sea, where marine life is nurtured. In the first place, life originated from the sea. My personal connections are included within—and encompass—that grand cycle. There is nothing to fear. Everything has been there from the beginning, flowing and moving—everything resonated inside that cave.
The Cycle Does Not Return to Its Origin
Checking out. And then, time to say goodbye.
I could feel the tremor in Yoshiaki's voice transmission over to me.
"We're all going to see you off, Naomi-chan."
As I was organizing my luggage on the station platform, I heard a voice call out from an unexpected direction: "Naomi-chan~!" Looking back, Yoshiaki, Yasu, Yoko, the children, and even Yukari with her baby were all waving their hands. What a deeply warm send-off. As the train started moving, the older children began running along, and Yoshiaki ran while holding his baby. The oldest boy kept running until his absolute limit. Even as I type these words now, tears overflow.
Flowing water becomes clouds, returning as river water once again. Experiences manifested in this world through people also find their way back to us. However, it is not a cycle that simply returns to its exact point of origin. Uncountable events that would never have occurred without my existence relate to and connect with what is happening elsewhere, gradually altering their form as they circulate.
Letting go of the "self that automatically searches for answers" and welcoming a "sensibility oozing from within." I quietly brought these Suiten Words back to my daily spaces for dialogue—to awaie, the small space for dialogue I created. Relying on others, being heard, and being connected to the whole. What the mountains and waters of Kumano, the Satos, Yasu, and my fellow travelers handed to me continues to flow inside me even now, like a river.
Thank you so much. Until we meet again in those seas and mountains.
Written by: Naomi Yoshida (Founder of awaie / Ecological Memes)
Program Details: May 28–30, 2026 — Suiryu Exploration Program @ Kumano, Nachi & Katsuura
About the "Suiten Words" Project
The Suiten Word Cards were compiled as "practical wisdom and insights for restoring the connection between humans and nature, enabling us to live rooted in vital functions and ecosystems." From new perspectives free from existing values, this card tool draws out the core values and ways of being that each individual holds dear, serving to facilitate dialogue and build relationships within teams and organizations. Please feel free to contact us for consultations regarding workshops or training programs utilizing these cards.
The next Suiten Exploration Program will take place on September 11–12 at Mt. Fuji Seiyo-en!
Suiryu Exploration Program in Mt. Fuji Seiyo-en
feat. Regenerative Leadership
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