Day: October 19, 2026

Discovering different ways to live a rich and meaningful life

I met two people who lived very different lives, and their current lifestyles could hardly be more different.

One lives in Tokyo, surrounded by people, opportunities, and constant activity.

He continues working as a physician while maintaining relationships with people from many different fields. He writes books, appears in the media, and enjoys exchanging ideas with others.

His world seems to expand through people, conversations, and new connections.

The other lives in a quiet rural area, surrounded by beautiful nature.

There are few people nearby, and he works at a small local clinic. Outside his clinical work, he enjoys exploring history, classical music, and other subjects that capture his curiosity.

He does not need a busy social schedule or a large professional network to find meaning.

His world expands through learning, reflection, and the pursuit of understanding.

What impressed me most was not how different their lives were.

It was how much they had in common.

Both remain intellectually curious, active, and genuinely interested in life.

Both seem to follow their interests naturally, without needing to impress others or pursue conventional measures of success.

Meeting them made me realize something important.

The size of our landscape is not determined by how far we travel, but by how deeply and broadly we remain engaged with life.

This realization has become especially meaningful as I think about aging and retirement.

We often imagine that an exciting life requires constant activity, travel, new experiences, or social engagement.

These can certainly enrich our lives.

But they are not the only pathways to growth.

Some people expand their worlds through relationships and collaboration.

Others expand through reading, music, art, nature, or quiet reflection.

And many of us may need both.

There are worlds I had barely explored during my busy professional years.

The more I learn, the more I realize how much remains undiscovered.

As we grow older, we can continue creating meaningful goals and exploring new possibilities, but we no longer need to pursue everything.

We can choose what genuinely interests us and develop our own ways of growing.

Some periods of life may involve outward exploration—traveling, meeting people, and discovering unfamiliar environments.

Other periods may involve inward exploration—reading, writing, listening, and reflecting.

Neither is necessarily more valuable.

What matters is remaining open to discovery.

My two mentors reminded me that there is no single correct way to live the second half of life.

One finds richness through connections with people across society.

The other finds richness through intellectual exploration in a quiet rural environment.

Both have created lives that continue to grow.

And perhaps that is the real meaning of a large landscape.

It is not about how much space we occupy in the world.

It is about how much room we continue creating within ourselves for curiosity, understanding, beauty, and growth.

Our physical world may become smaller as we age.

But our inner landscape can continue expanding throughout life.

Discovering a new source of meaning as we grow older

Recently, I met one of my former mentors, who had retired after a long and challenging professional career.

He had experienced difficult institutional conflicts, yet he seemed to have maintained his intellectual curiosity and commitment to understanding the world.

What impressed me most was how he described his life after stepping away from professional responsibilities.

He had developed a deep interest in history, classical music, and other subjects. He enjoyed reading, exploring questions, and gradually developing his understanding.

He was not studying to earn another degree, publish a paper, or gain recognition.

He simply wanted to know more.

And he described this pursuit of knowledge as one of his greatest sources of enjoyment and stress relief.

Our conversation made me realize something important.

Learning does not have to serve an external purpose to be meaningful.

For much of my life, learning was closely connected to achievement.

As a surgeon and researcher, I studied to improve my skills, solve problems, develop new techniques, and contribute to scientific progress.

Curiosity was essential, but it usually led toward a practical goal.

There was always something to accomplish.

Yet there is another form of learning that I am only beginning to appreciate.

I call it self-directed intellectual growth.

It begins with a simple question: What would I like to understand more deeply?

The answer does not have to relate to my profession.

It might be a historical event, a piece of classical music, a work of art, or a question about human nature.

I can follow my curiosity, read, listen, reflect, and gradually discover something new.

There is no examination, deadline, competition, or expectation of achievement.

The reward is understanding itself.

These interests open doors to worlds that have always existed around me but that I had rarely taken time to explore.

And something interesting happens when I become absorbed in learning.

My attention moves away from daily concerns and toward something larger than myself.

The problems may not disappear, but they no longer occupy my entire mental landscape.

Sometimes the best way to make a problem smaller is not to solve it, but to discover something larger around it.

This connects with the idea of selective expansion.

As we grow older, we gradually learn what matters to us. We no longer need to pursue every opportunity or seek recognition for everything we do.

But that does not mean we should stop expanding.

We can continue choosing new subjects, creating personal learning goals, and exploring unfamiliar intellectual worlds.

Unlike professional achievement, self-directed learning allows us to determine our own pace.

We can study deeply when something captures our imagination, change direction when our interests evolve, or simply enjoy the process without needing a final result.

We can create our own challenges, guided by curiosity rather than obligation.

And much of this growth can happen in solitude, with nothing more than a book, a piece of music, or a quiet place to think.

I am beginning to understand that feeling alive does not always require doing something extraordinary.

Sometimes it comes from discovering a new idea, understanding a familiar subject more deeply, or experiencing beauty that I had previously overlooked.

Perhaps one of the greatest freedoms of growing older is the opportunity to learn without needing to prove anything.

When we are young, we often learn in order to become someone.

As we grow older, we can learn simply because the world is worth understanding.

And the more we discover, the more we realize how much remains unexplored.

Our professional careers may eventually end. Our physical abilities may gradually change.

But curiosity can continue opening new doors.

A lifetime may not be long enough to understand everything that interests us. And perhaps that is one of the most exciting reasons to keep learning.