Risshun—Spring’s Arrival

Update for Readers

The Beginning of Spring

How was your past month? For me, while overall there was a lot I was grateful for, there were many moments when it felt hard, long, and lonely. If the New Year felt overwhelming or the past month hard for you too, let me introduce you to a much quieter way of thinking about beginnings.

Risshun (立春), meaning beginning of spring, marks the first day of spring in the traditional Japanese calendar. While much of Japan—and the northern hemisphere—remains cold, risshun, which falls today (February 3), acknowledges the earliest, almost imperceptible signs of spring. From this point forward, the days will gradually grow warmer and lighter. Today, at the 5:00 p.m. evening bell, I noticed that the sky was still blue, no longer completely dark. The days are getting longer!

Dusting of snow over rice terraces

Unlike the widely used Gregorian calendar, which divides the year into 12 months, the traditional Japanese calendar follows 24 solar terms (二十四節気, nijūshi sekki)—equal divisions of the year based on seasonal changes. This means that roughly every two weeks, there is a moment to pause and observe nature’s quiet transitions. In the past, many considered risshun the true start of the new year, rather than January 1.

Yesterday, we celebrated setsubun (節分), a day marking the boundary between two seasons. Traditionally, people throw roasted soybeans (mamemaki) to drive away bad luck, but it feels like a bit of a waste of perfectly good soybeans. So we opted out of this tradition and instead made sushi rolls called ehomaki on this day.

As we step into risshun, perhaps it’s a gentle invitation to notice the smallest signs of change—the first bud, a shift in the air, or just a bit more light in the morning.

Hello little bud!!

Update for Readers

I started this Substack newsletter in 2021—back when the platform was still relatively unknown. Since then, I’ve witnessed and experienced so many shifts: new features, new tools, and a huge growing number of writers. It’s been both exciting and, at times, a little overwhelming (how many subscriptions are too many?)

For the past four years, I’ve intentionally kept these writings free. Writing wasn’t (and still isn’t) my job—it was something I did purely for joy: to remember, to share, to reflect. I never wanted money to complicate that, because I’ve never quite figured out how to balance creative passions with making a living. To those who have, I deeply admire and respect you.

My very first post in 2021!

For me, it never felt necessary to monetize my writing, and I wanted anyone to be able to read whatever they wanted. I understand the frustration of hitting a paywall—but I also know that paid subscriptions allow people to write as a career, which genuinely makes me sooo happy.

My Substack feature in 2022!

What to Read: Kana Lauren Chan is sending postcards from a waste-free life in rural Japan

The internet and social media landscape is always changing (most would argue for the worse). Yet, I like to think this newsletter may serve as a small antidote—something quieter, more thoughtful, a little retreat from all the noise.

All that to say… I think you know where this is going. I’m opening up paid subscriptions. A kind message from a reader recently made me realize… it’s time. Most of my writing will remain free, and upgrading is entirely optional. Please consider if these posts:

• resonate with you in some way

• if they bring you joy

• make you think or reflect

• give you insight into rural Japan

• feel like a small, meaningful part of your day

If you’d like to support my writing, this is a way to do that.

Postcards for Paid Subscribers

Those who decide to move to a paid subscription, can receive seasonal postcards (spring edition) featuring photos taken by me and (mostly) my partner.

🌷 Offering a small risshun spring sale 25% off from now until April 1, 2025 🌷 If you want a spring-themed postcard, please join me before April 1!

I’ve always struggled with accepting kindness—whether in words or gestures—because some part of me never feels like I deserve it. But I’m growing and the encouragement and warmth you’ve shared here in the comments or messages are a true gift, and I’m endlessly grateful for your generosity.

Hugs,

Kana