"Wedding Song," which describes the mindset needed for a couple to live in harmony, is the work of poet Hiroshi Yoshino (aged 87 at death). Now, a year after his passing, it has been featured on NHK's "Close-up Gendai," and his poetry collection "Yoshino Hiroshi Shishū" (Haruki Bunko, 1999) has become an unexpected hit, selling over 150,000 copies in February alone, bringing renewed attention to his work.
His works, which capture the ordinary, easily overlooked moments of daily life from various angles and express them skillfully in simple language, have provided me with countless insights and inspirations. Each time I revisit them, they deliver a sharp mental jolt.
His masterpieces "Wedding Song" and "I was born" are must-reads, of course, but I also highly recommend "Sunset," "In the Refrigerator," "Kanji Joyful Melody," "In Korean," and "To Nanako." Please give them a read.
Many of Yoshino's poems feature actual "episodes" he encountered. They express what he saw, felt, experienced, and contemplated, allowing readers to visualize the scenes, spark their imagination, and truly feel the world within the words.
We've all made the mistake of relying on simplistic words when trying to convey something important, only to fail to get the message across. To prevent this, developing the habit of "telling through episodes" in everyday life improves communication skills and even helps reshape how your mind works.
■Communicate through what you've experienced, seen, and heard
It was unmistakably a job-hunting student in a tracksuit.
In my experience, I've never seen another student show up for job hunting dressed in sweatpants instead of a formal suit.
As I stared wide-eyed, she explained, "Actually, I had an accident before coming here and was rushed dealing with it. I didn't have time to go home and change. I debated what to do, but I thought being late would be more rude, so I came as I was. I'm truly sorry," and bowed deeply.
She seemed to be the vice-captain of her university's lacrosse club. That day, as usual, there was morning practice, and during a scrimmage, a junior player got injured. Since the captain was absent, she, as the responsible person, accompanied the junior to the hospital. Her teammates urged her to prioritize her job hunting, but she felt that would betray the friends she had cherished until now. So, after taking the junior to the hospital, she came straight here.
Bowing repeatedly, she straightened her back and declared with a bright, resolute smile, "I was able to come here with peace of mind after learning the injured junior would be fine. I don't regret it—I'm not late, and you're listening to me now."
This exchange alone made me want to work with her.
Leadership, compassion for others, judgment, strength of conviction, communication skills. None of these qualities were ever explicitly stated in her own words.
Yet, in the conversation that followed, through specific "episodes"—her experiences in the athletic club and events during her university life—I could sense these qualities as part of her charm. She was conveying who she was and what kind of will she possessed through these stories.
I've met many job seekers over the years, and I often hear self-introductions filled with phrases straight out of a manual.
"I'm highly curious and have actively challenged myself in everything. In my university seminar, I demonstrated leadership by guiding everyone, and I believe I have a strong sense of responsibility. I'm also very particular about things, so people rely on me as a go-to source of wisdom..." That sort of thing.
What sets her apart from the girl in the tracksuit? It's not about how well she speaks, her choice of words, the breadth of her topics, or whether she has unique experiences. She didn't express her strengths and value with clichés. Instead, she sought out "episodes" from her own experiences and observations, and conveyed them through those stories. That's what made her completely different.
■Simply saying "delicious" or "cool" doesn't convey it
These episodes don't have to be things others might praise or things that make you seem superior. They can be everyday, ordinary little things. What's important is recalling what you felt and how you acted in that moment. As that becomes clear, your own strengths and value naturally emerge.
In other words, an episode isn't just a summary of facts; it's a package that includes your emotions and specific actions tied to that event.
This principle can also be applied to everyday communication.
When you want to share how moved you were by a beautiful sunset seen while traveling, simply saying "It was beautiful" or "I was moved" often fails to resonate.
For example, saying something like, "I, who never take landscape photos, pressed the shutter dozens of times," or "I wondered how many more times I'd see a sunset like this before I die, and for the first time in my life, I became conscious of death," conveys how profoundly beautiful it felt to you.
Rather than relying on clichés and speaking carelessly, it's important to pause, recall what you felt and did at that moment, and convey it as an anecdote.
When a single adjective like "cute," "cool," "funny," "amazing," or "delicious" spontaneously pops into your head, that's your cue to turn it into an anecdote.
When advertising aims to convey a product's appeal, the same principle applies.
Simply stating "this candy is delicious" or "this car is cool" won't resonate. Instead, concretely imagine what someone might feel or do when eating that candy or owning that car. From the many episodes that surface, choose the one that best conveys the product's quality and value. If it still feels lacking, imagine further and search for another episode. Repeating this process multiple times allows the concept to expand.
If you cultivate the habit of thinking in terms of relatable stories in your daily life, it won't just help your work communication. When you need to come up with ideas or plans, you'll also be able to imagine what will resonate with others and be easy for them to understand.