Canon's Diary

Around 4 AM this morning, I woke up with a sore throat and itchy eyes. I turned on the light, headed to the bathroom, rubbed my eyes, and took some herbal medicine for colds. After a while, the discomfort subsided, and I managed to get a few more hours of sleep.

Today is March 24th, another day of remote work. Unlike yesterday’s clear skies, today is cloudy. Perhaps thanks to the cold shower I took as a form of icing, I don’t feel much of an impact from the four hours of tennis I played yesterday. After going through my Monday reports, reading the news and industry journals, and responding to a few emails, I found myself with some free time in the afternoon. I spent it simulating tasks for my new department starting in April and reading relevant books.

I started reflecting on some concepts introduced in The Courage to Be Disliked by Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga: denying the need for approval, separating tasks, and achieving true freedom. Everyone, to some extent, seeks recognition from those around them. This mindset stems from perceiving interpersonal relationships in a hierarchical structure—seeking approval in exchange for validation or feeling superior by granting approval to others. Perhaps this is a negative habit ingrained by a competitive society.

However, as times change, it’s possible that people today have already overcome this issue. They might have learned to separate their own tasks from others’ and established a convention of not overstepping into others’ matters. But when I ask myself if I have ever had a need for approval, I must admit—yes, I have.

Wanting to push forward a project of my own initiative, for instance, is ultimately a desire to be recognized by my superiors and to be valued. Aspiring to a higher position in the company may stem from the urge to be surrounded by subordinates who affirm my worth and from a desire to control interpersonal dynamics in my favor. Looking back at my time as a manager, I tried my best to be disciplined and prioritize the organization’s interests. Yet, I can’t deny that I enjoyed being admired and flattered by those around me. I definitely saw relationships through a vertical lens.

I realized this when I left my managerial position upon changing jobs—I was overcome with an indescribable sense of emptiness.

In the world of sports, this hierarchical structure is even more evident. You’re either a winner or a loser—there’s no in-between. Even in tennis schools, players are categorized into “advanced” or “intermediate” classes, reinforcing rankings. When I was younger, I was completely fixated on winning. I pushed myself through intense training and took a strict, disciplined approach to tennis. The very fact that I instinctively referred to sports as “competition” suggests how deeply ingrained this hierarchical mindset was.

Looking back, it seems like many of the people around me wanted to dominate me. My parents, my teachers, my senior teammates, my managers at part-time jobs, my bosses at work, and even my wife. Without realizing it, I grew up in an environment where I was constantly trying to meet others’ expectations, believing that fulfilling them would earn me recognition. Maybe things are different now in the Reiwa era compared to the Showa era I grew up in.

However, in hindsight, I now wonder—wasn’t I the one who created this environment for myself? If people treated me that way, wasn’t it because I, too, sought to position myself above others? In an extreme sense, I existed only in relation to those I could compare myself to.

Adlerian psychology shifts the perspective from causality (“I am this way because of past experiences”) to teleology (“I act this way to achieve a certain goal”). It promotes building a cooperative society that transcends time, distance, life forms, and individuals while simultaneously emphasizing self-awareness—understanding what one can do.

This is a profound philosophy, one I am still far from mastering. But perhaps a simple starting point for me is to practice respect and interact with others with a sense of reverence. If I can shift my perspective from hierarchical relationships to horizontal ones—not just in friendships but also in parent-child relationships, marriage, and even workplace dynamics—I feel like I could expand my worldview significantly.

It now makes perfect sense why sports emphasize etiquette.

After work, I attended a men’s singles tennis lesson. When I first joined, I saw the other members as rivals, and it felt a bit awkward. But recently, I’ve been able to talk to them as friends. We are all practicing to improve, competing against each other, but also helping each other grow. By respecting and encouraging one another, we can build better relationships and even find joy in the process.

Perhaps this is a mindset I should have cultivated during my club days, which makes me feel a little embarrassed. But this is where I find myself now.