One summer, I joined a group tour to Japan. Our guide, Tanaka, took us to the beach in Hokkaido at low tide. There, many people were busy picking up stranded fish. Intrigued, we joined them, catching salmon and tuna and filling a whole bucket.
Choosing compassion over convenience
Sitting and resting, we discussed cooking the fish into a delicious meal. Suddenly, Tanaka interrupted, saying: “Do you think these fish are like the ones on a restaurant menu? These fish weren’t caught because of their appetite; the tide stranded them. Do you have the heart to eat them? Why not let them return to the sea?”
I looked at Tanaka, puzzled. “Aren’t all fish just fish? What’s the difference?” Tanaka sighed and explained: “The receding tide left these fish behind — they are lives suffering hardship. To eat them would be to take advantage of their suffering. Returning them to the ocean is an act of kindness and compassion.”
Realizing that to consume these stranded fish would mean exploiting their misfortune, we all picked up the bucket and carefully returned each fish to the sea. Watching them swim away joyfully, a deep sense of happiness arose in each of us.
That evening, Tanaka came to us with a request. A friend’s store was closing the next day, and he hoped we could visit and help by buying some items. Thinking there would be closing sales, we agreed, expecting to find bargains. As we chatted about our experiences with discount shopping back home, someone asked Tanaka about the store’s merchandise. Everyone became excited when he mentioned it sold local products, cosmetics, electronics, and jewelry.
Giving more than we receive
The store was packed with people, and many carts were ready for checkout. We managed to squeeze our way inside, but soon noticed no discounts — prices were the same as elsewhere. Disappointment set in, and we each bought just one or two small items before leaving. Half an hour later, Tanaka came out with two large bags of purchases. We couldn’t hide our frustration: “Why weren’t there any discounts here?”
Tanaka looked at us blankly and replied, “Everything here is genuine. Why should they be discounted?” Unsure how to respond, we shifted the question to: “If prices are the same as elsewhere, why did you and others come here and buy so much?”
Tanaka smiled and said: “We came to let the store owner know he is suited to run a business. Maybe, with some support, he’ll find the confidence to try again somewhere else.” We exchanged looks, finally understanding that rather than waiting for a clearance sale, we should have bought more to offer the owner comfort, encouragement, warmth, and hope.
The receding tide leaves fish struggling to survive; a store closing down marks a business owner in difficulty. When encountering people suffering hardship, do we take advantage or extend a helping hand? By releasing the stranded fish back to the ocean and supporting the store owner in need, Tanaka taught us the power of compassion and reminded us that during the “low tides” of life, when there is nothing left to hide, our true humanity shines through — let us strive to do even better in these moments.
Translated by Katy Liu and edited by Tatiana Denning
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