How a simple “arigatou” can change the way we see the world
“I was dreaming that we were walking together through a beautiful Japanese garden in Kyoto. I watched you move beneath an arch of cherry blossoms, dressed in a kimono, and just as you reached out to pick a flower from the branch of a cherry tree… you woke me up,” Andreas said.
Il ponte vermiglio, Chapter 12
Index
Japan has become one of the most beloved destinations of the past few years. Some arrive in spring for the cherry blossoms, others follow the paths of their favourite manga characters. Many come for the timeless temples, or to experience a cuisine unlike any other. Tourism has risen dramatically in the last five years, and it would be easy for me to list all the reasons I fell in love with the country too. But if I had to choose one, a single essential thread, it would be this: gratitude.
The daily mantra of arigatou
Any traveller notices it almost immediately. Throughout a single day, you hear arigatou gozaimasu dozens of times: “thank you” in its gentlest, most respectful, almost devotional form.
It becomes a mantra.
Every interaction, even the simplest – stepping into a lift, placing an empty cup on a counter, collecting a train ticket – ends with at least one thank you, often two or three, accompanied by a slight bow of the head. It is not an empty formality. It is woven into the Japanese social fabric, into the way people perceive the world.
Japanese offers an entire “lexicon of gratitude”. Between honourifics, casual forms and ritual expressions, there are thirty or forty different ways to say “thank you”. An emotional alphabet. A grammar of mutual recognition.
A moment in Himeji
In Himeji, a small group of schoolchildren, no more than five or six years old, stood waiting to cross the street. All dressed in matching uniforms and identical hats, carrying that bright, bubbling excitement only children have when they are about to visit a legendary place like Himeji Castle.
When the pedestrian light turned from red to green, accompanied by the familiar melody of the guiding bird song you hear all over Japan, something extraordinary happened in its simplicity. Without a single instruction from their teachers, a spontaneous chorus rose from the group. Throughout the entire crossing the children repeated arigatou gozaimasu over and over again, thanking the little green man who was allowing them to walk safely to the other side. They kept going until their feet reached the pavement.
Awareness and inner practices
Meditation teaches us that gratitude is not a decorative thought, but a mental orientation that changes how we relate to the world. The same is true of other interior practices: yoga, prayer, contemplative rituals. They all share a common element. They shift our attention from what is missing to what is already present in our lives.
When we cultivate this perspective, even the smallest gestures begin to feel different, fuller, more deeply rooted.
What science tells us
In recent years, neuroscience and psychology have started to measure what ancient traditions – from meditation to yoga to prayer – have always known: gratitude reshapes the brain and our psychological well-being in ways that are both profound and measurable.
Whether one meditates, practises yoga or prays, the underlying thread is the same: a slow return to oneself, a gentle realignment of breath, body and presence.
Today, thanks to neuroimaging, we can observe this movement from the inside. Gratitude activates deep regions such as the ventral striatum and the medial prefrontal cortex, areas involved in emotion, personal value and empathy. One of the most fascinating studies showed that writing a simple letter of gratitude is enough to alter the brain’s neural response to gratitude itself, even weeks after the act (Kini et al., 2016). It is as though the brain learns to recognise more clearly what brings light into our lives.
The effects extend far beyond emotion. Early experimental research showed that noting what we are grateful for, even for a few minutes a day, increases energy, psychological vitality and a sense of connection to life (Emmons & McCullough, 2003). Gratitude, when practised consistently, becomes a lens. It does not change what we experience, but it changes the way we experience it.
And the body responds. Evidence from psychoneuroimmunology shows that positive emotional states and mind–body practices can modulate deep biological processes, reducing inflammation and markers associated with stress (Bower et al., 2013). It is a delicate bridge between emotion and physiology. What we think and feel is never confined to the mind, but flows into the chemistry that sustains us.
One of the most influential reviews in the field concluded that gratitude is among the strongest predictors of subjective well-being, resilience and quality of relationships (Wood, Froh & Geraghty, 2010). Not a spiritual accessory, then, but an emotional skill that shapes how we inhabit the world.
In short, science confirms what every traveller senses instinctively while walking through Japan: gratitude is not merely an emotion, but a state of mind that transforms the way we live.
Beyond beauty: the true reason for my love of Japan
The temples are exquisite, and the moss gardens and stone paths seem to exist in a suspended space between two dimensions. The white castles catch the light with a grace that steals your breath. Maple leaves in autumn, the golden blaze of ginkgo trees, the springtime unfolding of sakura (cherry blossoms): each colour passes through your eyes and goes straight to the heart.
Yet beyond all this, what lingers most deeply is a phrase whispered everywhere, a phrase that accompanies each day and stays with you long after you return home: arigatou gozaimasu.
That gentle word enters the body like a new breath and slowly shapes the way you see the world. It settles into your gestures, your pauses, the way you look at others.
And while Andreas, in his dream, watches Carol in her indigo kimono moving with the wind, he begins to understand that gratitude is not a gesture, nor a polite formula. It is an inner orientation, a way of walking through the world, a quiet willingness to welcome whatever comes.
Gratitude is a soft return to reality, and perhaps its most luminous form.
Suggested reading
Naikan: Gratitude, Grace, and the Japanese Art of Self-Reflection
Gregg Krech, 2001
Naikan introduces a Japanese introspective discipline rooted in Shin Buddhism and built around three simple yet transformative questions. It invites us to examine our relationships over time, what we have received from others, what we have offered in return, and the weight of our omissions.
Naikan does not judge, interpret or force. It simply opens the gaze. Through this process we come to recognise how often we take daily gestures for granted: the care we have received, the silent help that has carried us forward. Gratitude emerges naturally, not as a fleeting emotion, but as a way of inhabiting the world with greater awareness and kindness.
For those who love Japan, or who are curious about the inner landscape of gratitude, this book offers a precious perspective. It blends spirituality, introspection and simplicity, becoming a quiet companion for anyone wishing to reflect on their own life with clarity and depth.
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References
Kini, P., Wong, J., McInnis, M., Gabana, N., & Brown, J. W. (2016). The effects of gratitude expression on neural activity. NeuroImage, 128, 1–10.
Emmons, R. A., & McCullough, M. E. (2003). Counting Blessings Versus Burdens: An Experimental Investigation of Gratitude and Subjective Well-Being in Daily Life. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 84(2), 377–389.
Bower, J. E., Crosswell, A. D., & Slavich, G. M. (2013). Mind–body interventions and immune system functioning: A systematic review. Brain, Behavior, and Immunity, 30, S51–S52.
Wood, A. M., Froh, J. J., & Geraghty, A. W. A. (2010). Gratitude and well-being: A review and theoretical
