So far, we have discussed four topics: water, snow, rice cultivation and fermentation.

Although these four things may appear unrelated at first glance, they are in fact all telling the same story. Water circulates of its own accord. Snow accumulates naturally and, as it melts, nourishes the earth. Rice cultivation has given rise to communities that manage water collectively. Fermentation is a process in which microorganisms bring about transformation of their own accord. None of these rely on anything being poured in from the outside; rather, they are driven by a force that wells up from within.

There is a phrase that sums up this principle in a single word.

The cistern is full, and the spring gushes forth.

You can pour water into a tank. If you pour in plenty, it will fill up. However, if you stop pouring, the water will evaporate and the tank will eventually run dry. A spring is different. It bubbles up of its own accord. Even if no water is poured in, as long as the soil remains alive, the water will never stop flowing.

Aquariums and fountains. Although both involve the act of ‘containing water’, they operate on entirely different principles.

You can manage the tank. You can control everything—how much to put in and when to use it. It is efficient, predictable and easy to manage in numerical terms. The modern economy is built on this ‘tank’ logic.

A spring is something to be nurtured.

All we can do is protect the soil, prepare the environment, and wait patiently.

It is neither efficient nor predictable.

However, as long as the soil remains alive, the spring will never run dry.

Profit margins, productivity and value for money.

We use these indicators to make judgements. There is nothing wrong with that in itself. However, there are some things that cannot be measured by these yardsticks.

Local communities. Rich soil. A culture of fermentation. Values to pass on to future generations.

A ruler from an aquarium cannot measure the value of a spring.

Anything that cannot be measured is put on the back burner when decisions are being made. Once sidelined, the spring gradually dries up. The value of agriculture that cannot be quantified loses out in the price war. The invisible bonds of the community are shattered in the name of efficiency. The environment for fermentation, nurtured over a long period of time, vanishes in the face of cost-cutting.

Urgent matters are not the same as important matters.

Today’s takings and this month’s profits won’t wait.

On the other hand, protecting the soil and passing on our culture to the next generation are things that, even if we do not do them today, will not cause any immediate problems.

That is precisely why the task of nurturing the spring tends to be put on the back burner.

However, it is actually this that we must not lose.

When we are constantly caught up in urgent matters, important things tend to be put on the back burner. The fountain that has been neglected gradually dries up, and by the time we realise it, the very water we pour into the tank has begun to run low.

This distinction applies not only to community development but also to the development of people.

Teaching knowledge is like pouring water into a fish tank. Of course, that is necessary too. But what we really want to nurture is the ability to ask questions and continue learning independently. That is not something that is poured in by someone else; it is something that wells up from within the individual.

This was also true of the education I witnessed at agricultural colleges. The experience of nurturing life stays with you not as knowledge, but as a sense. The questions that arise from that experience never fade, even in adulthood.

The same applies to companies. An organisation that won’t function unless it is constantly being given instructions is much like an aquarium.

Conversely, an organisation in which each individual thinks for themselves and takes the initiative moves closer to becoming a spring.

A water tank stops flowing when you stop pouring water into it. A spring, however, continues to flow as long as the soil remains alive.

Of course, we cannot live without aquariums.

We need profits. We need efficiency. And we need the figures to keep the company going.

However, a fish tank alone is not enough to sustain a community.

Preserving the value of our local community. Nurturing people. Passing on our culture to the next generation. That is the work of nurturing Izumi.

Looking back, this has been the question I have been grappling with ever since I set up my company in this region.

To maintain the aquarium whilst ensuring the spring does not run dry.

We want to preserve the value of our local community. But simply preserving it isn’t enough to ensure its long-term survival. And if it doesn’t survive, we won’t be able to pass it on to future generations.

The sense that I was ‘looking after’ something gradually took root within me as I searched for that answer.

What follows is a record of our struggles to nurture the spring within the confines of the aquarium’s logic.

ATSUSHI KABASAWA

FARM8 Co. Ltd.,

Next chapter: ‘Regions That Become Constellations’ – Chapter 7 : What We Take for Granted Today Is Because Someone Couldn’t Turn a Blind Eye