In Japanese, the word teikan (諦観) encapsulates a quiet acceptance of reality—embracing life as it is and releasing the grip on what we cannot change.
This isn’t simply about “giving up”; it’s a lens of clarity and resilience.
Across time and cultures, the Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius arrived at a similar insight in his Meditations: focus on what lies within your control and let go of the rest.
Today, as we relentlessly pursue success, these ancient ideas feel both timeless and urgently relevant.
For Japan’s 就職氷河期世代 (shūshoku hyōgaki sedai)—the generation shaped by the post-bubble job crisis—blending teikan with Stoicism is more than mere philosophy; it is a strategy for survival.
Teikan: Beyond Giving Up
Imagine a cherry blossom tree gently shedding its petals in spring.
Teikan is like that moment when you stop hoping the petals will cling to the branch, and instead, you watch them drift away—trusting that nature will always renew itself.
Rooted in Buddhist views of impermanence, teikan isn’t about despair; it is wisdom.
You don’t curse the rain—you simply wait out the storm.
Marcus Aurelius echoed this sentiment when he wrote, “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”
Both teikan and Stoicism encourage us to shift our energy from futile resistance to cultivating inner calm.
Japan’s Lost Generation
Recent discussions in Japan have highlighted the struggles of the shūshoku hyōgaki sedai—those who came of age during the 1990s and early 2000s when the economy faltered and stable jobs disappeared.
Often dubbed the “lost generation,” they faced relentless rejection, underemployment, and a society quick to assign blame for their hardships.
I, myself, am also a representative of this generation.
I vividly recall the days of rejection as I stepped into the working world.
I see my friends and colleagues, even now, the scars remain: lower wages, fractured career paths, and a lingering sense of having been left behind.
As an NHK report noted, base pay increases vary dramatically with age, underscoring the harsh reality that no one can turn back time or rewrite the past.
This is precisely where teikan comes in.
While we cannot undo the economic collapse or the indifference we endured, railing against it only deepens our fatigue.
As Marcus Aurelius put it, “What need is there to weep over parts of life? The whole of it calls for tears.”
The struggle may be inherently unfair, but fairness is never guaranteed.
Teikan offers a way forward: release what can’t be controlled and find strength in what remains.
A Modern Struggle
This philosophy resonates far beyond Japan.
We all encounter moments when life refuses to bend to our will—whether it’s losing a job, facing shattered plans, or enduring global upheavals.
In today’s culture, where the mantra is to “fight harder,” one might ask: what if fighting only drains our energy?
We’ve all been there. Perhaps you’ve found yourself stranded at an airport with a canceled flight or shouldering the blame for a failed project at work.
Sometimes, the best path forward is to pause—to stop fighting—and simply allow yourself to be.
For me, that quiet “okay” was teikan: bearing patiently with whatever comes.
It isn’t weakness; it’s a deliberate strategy.
For Japan’s lost generation, letting go can mean releasing the resentment toward a system that once failed them.
It isn’t about excusing neglect; it’s about refusing to be defined by past hardships.
We cannot rewrite history, but we can choose how we respond—whether that means forging a new path, finding meaning elsewhere, or simply enduring with dignity.
The Strength in Acceptance
Both teikan and Stoicism demand courage.
Picture a river: you can’t stop its current, but you can learn to swim with it.
Marcus Aurelius advised, “Be tolerant with others and strict with yourself.”
In our relationships—strained by economic pressures or unmet expectations—this wisdom is especially crucial.
Japan’s lost generation might feel misunderstood by younger peers or judged by older generations, but letting go of the need to constantly prove oneself can open the door to genuine connection.
Learning to See
How do we practice teikan?
It’s a gradual process.
For those who have weathered significant challenges, it involves reflecting on what has been endured and recognizing the resilience, perspective, and stories that have emerged as a result.
Marcus urged, “Ask yourself—what am I doing with my soul?”
Teikan grows when we pause to observe reality not as we wish it to be, but as it truly is.
It’s about taking time to feel life’s presence—a small, deliberate nod to the flow of existence.
A Quiet Invitation
Teikan and Stoicism, like old friends meeting from different eras—one under a pagoda, the other in a Roman forum—remind us that life’s beauty lies in its limits.
Japan’s lost generation knows this truth well. They didn’t choose their struggles, but they can choose how to face them. And so can we all.
Next time the world feels unyielding, try this: breathe deeply, observe, and ask, “What can I do with this?”
That simple act of letting go isn’t just acceptance—it’s truly living. ■
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The Art of Letting Go: Teikan and Japan’s Lost Generation by Fabio Caipirinha
