Tag: The Phone of the Wind

In general, healing is often something we receive passively from others—through therapy, massage, or similar means. However, the healing experienced through the “Wind Phone” is different. It is gained through an active act: picking up the receiver oneself and speaking from the heart.

Modern forms of healing tend to be passive—something done to us by someone else. The Wind Phone, however, is not like that. One must go there in person, pick up the receiver, and engage in a dialogue of the heart—a kind of self-reflection. This is not about being healed by others, but about regaining oneself through an active process. In that process, one awakens one’s own innate capacity to heal and, through this awareness, reconnects with one’s original vitality. It is not a place where one is “healed” by others, but a place where one “heals oneself.”

For example, when we become ill or injured, we go to a hospital, receive a doctor’s diagnosis, and undergo treatment or hospitalization. In such cases, patients naturally wish to recover their health and return to their former lives, and they follow the doctor’s instructions carefully. But what happens when someone loses a loved one and is overcome by grief? Just as with illness, they strongly wish to return to their previous emotional state and everyday life. It is only natural to want to be released from sorrow and suffering.

Yet, what is the reality? Many people are able, over time, to move forward in life while carrying their grief. At the same time, there are those who, despite their wishes, find it difficult to break free from the weight of that sorrow. Even so, many eventually come to realize that they cannot remain as they are forever and begin to seek a way out of their suffering. There are also those who, while holding onto their grief, may become isolated and fall into depression.

While illness and injury are physical conditions, grief is a state in which the heart has been wounded. Unlike physical ailments, it cannot be cured through surgery or medication. There are therapists, of course, but for those experiencing grief, it is even more important than in the case of physical illness to have a strong desire to return to oneself. Without that inner will, it is difficult to move beyond grief.

The Wind Phone offers a place where those who have lost someone dear, and who are immersed in deep sorrow, can engage in a dialogue with themselves. Through this process, they can begin to organize their confused thoughts. It encourages individuals to take active steps in reclaiming their own vitality. In this sense, it is a form of therapy without a therapist. In other words, it is a process in which people experiencing grief come to trust that they possess the capacity for self-recovery and carry out that healing themselves.

After all, we know ourselves better than anyone else. It is said that depending on how our own hearts perceive our current situation, both mind and body can be guided accordingly. Our actions and our words are controlled by our own hearts. The Wind Phone can be seen as a form of therapy that helps people become aware that they themselves must take the initiative to act.

As scheduled, I was admitted to Iwate Medical University Hospital on February 16. During the nine days leading up to the operation, I underwent various tests and preoperative rehabilitation before finally going into surgery.

Because I was under both epidural and general anesthesia, I have no memory of what happened during the operation. When I regained consciousness, I found that I had eight or nine tubes attached to my body and was unable to move. Even so, I was fortunate that my arms and legs were not restrained; I later heard that in some cases patients are restrained to prevent them from pulling out the tubes themselves.

Afterward, my family told me that the cut surface of the lung after resection looked “as if it had been stapled—many times.” I wish I could have seen it myself, but of course that was impossible under general anesthesia.

My postoperative course was smooth. After spending the standard two nights and three days in the intensive care unit, I was transferred to a general ward. The following day (the 27th), all the tubes were removed, and on the 28th, the doctor told me that I could be discharged the next day. I felt no pain or discomfort at that time and even thought to myself, “I must be made of iron,” as I left the hospital.

However, starting the very next day, I began to feel pain—whether from the wound or my lung—and even a single cough became quite painful. Although I took the prescribed medication, I could not sleep at night and have been spending my days enduring discomfort and being unable to do much of anything. Looking back, I realize that the comfort I felt in the hospital was largely due to the intravenous drip I had in my arm. Whether I like it or not, it seems I will need to take things slowly for a while.

In the grief care activities of the “Wind Phone,” we often say that each person has an innate ability to heal themselves, and that it is important to recognize and trust this ability and live one’s life fully. Even in surgery, once a certain level of medical treatment is completed, recovery ultimately depends on the body’s natural healing power through the immune system. Through this experience, I have come to understand that such recovery is inevitably accompanied by a certain amount of pain and suffering.

In cases of grief as well, there must be a pain and suffering that only the person experiencing it can truly understand. And perhaps the only thing that can ease that pain is the kindness of those around them.

Information about the “Association to Protect the Wind Phone” is available on our website. We would greatly appreciate your support.

First of all, please accept my sincere apologies for being away from the website for such a long time.

In December of last year, I was hospitalized and underwent surgery for the second time (following a procedure in June) due to biliary stricture (a blockage of the bile duct). During examinations at that time, a new diagnosis of lung cancer was made. After careful consultation with my doctors regarding treatment options, we concluded that surgery would be the best course of action. I will be admitted to the hospital on February 16, and on the 24th I will undergo surgery to remove approximately half of my left lung.

Due to these circumstances, we are now facing a serious challenge regarding the continued maintenance and operation of the Wind Telephone. For the past 15 years, I have managed it personally, relying largely on my physical strength and dedication. However, with advancing age (81) and increasing health issues, it has become difficult to sustain this effort as an individual undertaking.

In order to ensure the future preservation of the Wind Telephone and its surrounding environment, we must consider outsourcing certain aspects of maintenance and management. To that end, I am proposing the establishment of a voluntary association at first, through which I would respectfully ask for your support. In the near future, we hope to develop this into a registered non-profit organization (NPO) and pursue public support as part of our ongoing activities.

Today, there are more than 600 Wind Telephones around the world. As the birthplace of the Wind Telephone, we sincerely ask for your cooperation so that it may continue to be preserved and sustained here.

Further details regarding the proposal to establish the “Association to Preserve the Wind Telephone” are currently under consideration and will be announced on this website at a later date.

P.S.

The Wind Telephone was originally created before the Great East Japan Earthquake as a personal project to maintain a sense of connection (“kizuna”) with my cousin, who passed away from cancer, and with his family. However, following the devastating earthquake and tsunami, it became a place where bereaved families and many others could convey their feelings to loved ones who had passed away.

Since then, it has become a symbolic presence for those confronting grief, offering emotional support to people both in Japan and around the world. This development has been deeply influenced by the historical context of the time — in particular, the profound societal need for healing in the aftermath of the disaster. In this sense, the Wind Telephone is not merely a personal memorial site; it has become a symbol of social grief care born out of a specific era and shaped by the experience of disaster.

Over the 16 years since its establishment, witnessing individuals burdened with grief find healing, shift their awareness “from loss to renewal,” and move forward toward new lives has been a deeply moving and irreplaceable joy.

From a perspective beyond its original concept, the Wind Telephone has also received recognition. In 2017, it was awarded the Miyazawa Kenji Ihatov Encouragement Prize in recognition of its embodiment of Miyazawa Kenji’s spirit of altruism. In 2018, it received the 71st Iwate Nippo Cultural Award (Social Category) for contributing to the cultural development of Iwate Prefecture. In 2019, the Wind Telephone and its surrounding environment were honored with the 4th International Public Art Award for presenting a new model of public art that demonstrates the potential of art in public spaces and its contribution to addressing social issues. Recognized under the themes of “loss and renewal” and “dialogue and empathy,” it has been acknowledged as a symbolic presence offering healing and hope on both personal and societal levels.

These recognitions have encouraged me in continuing the activities of the Wind Telephone and in maintaining and caring for its surrounding environment. I believe that an essential element of healing lies in engaging the five human senses — seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, and touching. The preparation and maintenance of the environment are carried out with this philosophy in mind.

I have always regarded the Wind Telephone and its surrounding environment as a work of art, and have maintained it accordingly. I sincerely ask for your understanding and support.

When a person who usually thinks in a rational and logical way loses someone they love, or when they carry grief caused by some form of loss, their vitality often declines. In such moments, they may begin to perceive the world more through emotion than through reason, and tend to act based on feelings rather than strict logic.

This may be because there is little sense of “salvation” or emotional relief within a system built entirely on flawless logic.
The Wind Phone evokes ideas such as “seeing what cannot be seen,” “hearing what cannot be heard,” and “being able to connect anywhere because the line is not actually connected.” These are not logical concepts, yet they allow people to feel that perhaps something impossible could still be true, or that something unrealistic might still be wished for. In this vagueness, people find dreams, hope, and comfort.

However, this time, I would like to deliberately consider the sorrow of loss in a logical way, and explore a path toward renewal.

The death of a loved one naturally brings sadness, because emotionally we do not want them to be gone. Between two people, there exists the idea of “relational existence”—the sense that one’s own self is supported by the presence of the other.

From a logical perspective, to lose a loved one means that the meaning of one’s “self-existence” is diminished, because human beings are, in many ways, sustained by others. Therefore, in order to heal grief, it may be necessary to build new forms of “relational existence”—relationships in which one’s own presence is acknowledged and understood by others.

Of course, replacing a loved one with another person is extremely difficult, and it will not be easy. Yet, I believe there is no other path toward one’s own recovery except to devote energy to forming new relationships.

We do not live alone from the moment we are born. We live within relationships—between people, and between ourselves and nature. How we create these relationships will determine what the next stage of life will look like.

I believe that the severing of relationships may become the turning point between falling into depression and choosing to live a new life. Once we emotionally grasp, accept, and come to terms with what has happened, we must shift our thinking logically and connect it to the next step forward in life.

A woman visited the “Wind Phone” every day for six consecutive days starting in early September. She is currently studying at a Japanese university from Germany and shared that her mother had passed away from cancer.

Each time she came to the “Wind Phone,” she cried. She shed many tears…

People often visit the “Wind Phone” when their hearts are heavy with loss or grief, unable to process their feelings. While some initially find it difficult to express emotions that are hard to put into words, they often feel their hearts grow lighter with each visit, allowing them to heal at their own pace.

Speaking into the receiver helps organize and lessen inner emotions, bringing a sense of relief and liberation from having conveyed what they couldn’t say before.

Users can ease their loneliness and heartache by safely talking about the sadness and regret they had been carrying alone in the space provided by Kaze no Denwa for dialogue with the deceased.

Through the Kaze no Denwa experience, “conveying feelings that could not be communicated to the other person” provides closure and a sense of relief, encouraging a process of regaining a positive outlook and hope for life.

This psychological change has attracted professional attention as a form of grief care, and many users say that the Wind Phone reduces their psychological burden and provides an opportunity to form new emotional connections.

In this way, the Wind Phone is a place where visitors can visualize the invisible connections in their hearts, and it has become an important place that promotes the process of healing and regeneration of the heart.