I loved what I was doing, but we had borrowed an awful lot of money and had to sweat to pay it back. Some of our debt was owed to the bank, and some to our friends. We paid the friends back in just a few years, with interest—what else could we do? But to do that, we had to work from morning until night and skimp on food. We （“we” being my wife and myself） lived a very frugal, Spartan life in those days. We had no TV or radio—not even an alarm clock. Nor was there any real way to heat our room, so when the nights were cold, we slept huddled together, clinging to our cats. The cats clung desperately to us as well.
One night my wife and I were trudging home with our heads down, too broke to make the bank payment that was due the next day, when we stumbled upon a crumpled wad of bills lying in the street. Whether it was synchronicity or some kind of sign, I don’t know, but strange to say, it was exactly the amount we needed. It really saved us, since otherwise our check would have bounced. （For some reason, strange things like this happen from time to time in my life.） We should have turned the money in to the police, but we were strapped, so we kept it. There isn’t much point in apologizing now. I guess I’ll have to repay my debt to society through other means.
I don’t mean to go on and on about how hard we had it, only to stress that life wasn’t easy when I was in my twenties. Certainly there were others who were far worse off than me. From their vantage point, the way I lived would hardly qualify as “rough.” I can’t disagree with that; yet even so, it was plenty harsh enough for me. That’s all I want to say.
Still, it was fun. No doubt there. I was young and strong, and able to listen to the music that I loved all day as the ruler of my own little domain. I didn’t have to commute to work on packed rush-hour trains or attend boring meetings or suck up to a boss I disliked. And I was blessed with the chance to meet some really fascinating people.
I learned a lot about the world during those years too. “Learning about the world” sounds rather presumptuous, but what I mean is that I grew up. It was a perilous time, spent banging my head against the wall and fighting my way through. Terrible things were said and done to me, things that often left me frustrated and bitter. In those days, working in the entertainment industry—the “water trade,” as it’s called in Japan—meant putting up with a good deal of social prejudice. I worked myself to the bone and held my tongue about lots of things. I had to learn how to toss angry drunks out of the café and how to keep my head down when an ill wind blew. All I had time to think about was paying back what we owed and keeping the business afloat.
This desperate frame of mind helped get me through the hard years without major injury until, somehow, I came out on the other side into a space that was slightly more open and relaxed. When I stopped to rest and looked around, I discovered—to put it as plainly as I can—a landscape I had never seen before stretching before my eyes, and a new me standing there looking at it. I was slightly tougher than before, I realized, and a （very little） bit wiser.
Now I am not suggesting that the more hardship you endure the better off you will be. If you manage to get through this life without suffering, so much the better. I know there is nothing at all pleasant about hardship—it can drive you so low you can’t get up again. Nevertheless, if you are dealing with adverse conditions and the painful thoughts that come in their wake, you should take it from me that what you’re going through now may bear fruit down the road. I don’t know if this will help or not, but you should try to bear it in mind and keep moving forward.
* * *
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Looking back, I think I was just an “average boy” until I started working. I grew up in a quiet suburb in the Kobe and Osaka district without either causing or experiencing any special problems, and managed to do so-so in school without working very hard. One thing I always loved, though, was reading. I doubt any of my peers in junior high and high school read as many books as I did. I was also absorbed in listening to all kinds of music. As a result, I spent little time studying. I was an only child, well looked after （in other words, spoiled）， who had led a protected life. In short, I was hopelessly ignorant of the world.
I entered Waseda University in Tokyo in the late 1960s at the peak of the student protests; the university was shut down and the gates closed for long stretches while I was there. At first, the cause was a massive student strike; later, it was the university that locked us out. Almost all classes were suspended during this time, which meant that （luckily?） my college days were a pretty haphazard affair.