A Well to Pour Things Into
A guest wrote about the morning we spent together — and it’s one of the loveliest things anyone has said about what I do.
I’m SJF, living in Kyoto and sharing the sounds and small details of this city — from rivers and temple gardens to local festivals. These letters follow my life here, my podcast Kyoto, in Sound, and the Sound Walks I guide, all with the hope of noticing what might otherwise be missed.
A few weeks back I took a guest named Elena Cheah on a sound walk through Chion-in and Shōren-in. She was mid-tour with the Camerata Salzburg orchestra. They were in Asia to play Mozart, and she’d arrived in Kyoto carrying a bit more than most people carry into a working trip. And no, I’m not talking about the cello.
We talked about some of it as we walked. She’d been ill. She’d lost her mother not long before. This was her first tour in a long time. What I didn’t fully grasp until I read her letter was just how much had been riding on it — how close she’d come to not getting on the plane at all, and how the trip turned out to be part of a return for her, to music, to performing, to a version of herself she felt she’d lost somewhere along the way. But that’s her story, and she tells it far better than I could.
She’s written about the morning we spent together, and it’s one of the loveliest things anyone has said about what I do. I urge you to go and read it. It’s genuinely beautiful.
Here’s the link: Nothing is Required of You
I don’t want to quote the whole thing. But a few lines made me pause, because I think they describe the sound walks better than I ever have.
On the recording gear:
“I am wearing binaural earphones that both record and amplify the sounds around me. I hear my breathing, but I also hear the faraway ringing of the bell from the neighbouring Shōren-in temple, the bamboo leaves rustling in the wind, the occasional splash of a fish.”
And on what these walks deliberately leave out:
“Simon lets me set the pace and choose where I want to go and what I want to record. There is, blessedly, no Wikipedia pontification about the history of the temple or its material constitution, and this is exactly what I want.”
That second one made me smile; it’s exactly the thing I try to do and never quite know how to say. I’m not there to tell guests exactly when a temple was built or by whom or who they were warring with at the time (Kyoto’s history is so bloody!). I’m there to hand you good equipment, walk slowly, and point out the things you might otherwise miss. The rest of the morning goes how and where you want it to go.
She called the experience “a well into which to pour the thoughts, emotions, and memories.” I’ve never heard it put better. I’ll be borrowing that one, if you don’t mind Elena!
So this is mostly a thank you. To Elena, for her kindness, and for writing something so beautiful. Please go and read the rest of her letter. She writes about a lot more than just the walk, and all of it is worth your time.
And if you’re ever in Kyoto and fancy a morning like the one she describes, that’s the thing I do. You can find it here: kyotoinsound.com. Come and find me there if you’re curious.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for noticing.
🍃 SJF
Thank you for reading. If something here struck a chord, reply by email — I read every one, and it's the closest this little site has to a comments section. You can also follow along by RSS.