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This week’s writing stayed close to a familiar thread for me. The way perspective shifts depending on context, and how that quietly changes what we notice and how we respond. On Monday, I wrote about hydrangeas. Growing up in Belgium, they felt fragile. They needed attention, the soil had to be right, and even their color felt like feedback on how well they were being cared for. Then Japan changed that entirely. There, hydrangeas arrive with the rainy season and grow everywhere. The concern is not how to keep them alive, but how to keep them in check. What once felt delicate suddenly required boundaries. That contrast stayed with me. Not because one is right and the other wrong, but because both are shaped by environment. When something is rare, we protect it. When it is abundant, we manage it. The plant does not change, but our relationship to it does. On Wednesday, I noticed a similar shift in a work context. There are so many events happening in the Japan space that being physically present everywhere is simply not possible. And yet, there is still a desire to contribute. For one forum, that meant participating through a pre-recorded session together with my colleague Kasia. We focused on how global teams can collaborate more effectively. Aligning communication, creating shared expectations, and making collaboration feel more natural. Delivering the session in Japanese made a real difference, allowing us to meet the audience in their own context. It was also a reminder that presence is not only physical. With the right approach, contribution can take different forms and still be meaningful. You can still join the July 2nd event, scroll down and click on the blog post for more information. To end the week, I returned to something small. A koban in Ginza 1‑chome. Koban are an everyday part of life in Japan, easy to overlook. But this one stands out, with its rounded window and curved roof, quietly marking a busy intersection. What I like most is how it becomes a natural landmark. “Meet at the round koban” is suddenly enough. It is practical, approachable, and part of daily life, yet it adds a bit of character to the street. All three pieces come back to the same thread. Perspective. How something ordinary can take on a different meaning depending on where you stand. A flower, a way of working, or a small building. There is something grounding in noticing that shift. It creates space to adjust. To know when something needs care, when it needs limits, or when it simply needs to be seen differently. There is no perfect balance. But there is value in noticing it a little earlier, and working with it instead of against it. Thank you, as always, for reading. Warmly,
Saskia
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