The Japanese Art of Apology and Healing Through Gratitude

Among the many dazzling customs I've been immersing myself in here in Japan, the constant use of the words for "I'm sorry" and "thank you" has taught me so much. When everything was new, strange, and fascinating, I found myself involuntarily copying the mannerisms I observed around me, including saying "thank you" all the time. At first, it felt strange to say it so often, but I quickly realized how much I liked the way it made me feel. It was as though my days were literally filled with appreciation. Just as it’s common to say "thank you," it’s equally common to say "I’m sorry," which can also mean "excuse my intrusion." The degree of the apology varies depending on the situation, from a simple "sorry for your trouble" to a deeper "I sincerely apologize and promise never to make that mistake again."

My first experience with the nuanced layers of a Japanese apology was on my JAL (Japanese Airlines) flight from New York to Tokyo over three years ago. I had neglected to order a vegan meal and couldn’t eat the food I was served, so I politely declined. Honestly, I was just exhausted and desperate to sleep, but the flight attendants were determined to see me eat something, forcing me to stay awake and engage with them.

After what felt like an endless series of confusing back-and-forths, I suddenly realized I needed to say, "I'm sorry." At first, it was confusing because, according to American standards, I hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, by those standards, I was saving the airline money by not eating their food! But there I was, sitting in my aisle seat, huddled among three flight attendants, who were genuinely concerned about my well-being. This was Japanese hospitality at its finest, but it also felt like an unwanted burden. Apologizing was a way to acknowledge all they were doing for me, to recognize that I was making them work harder and causing them additional worry and stress. And as soon as I said "I'm sorry," the woman I was speaking to visibly relaxed. Her face shifted from overcast to sunny, and we even shared a small laugh, like instant friends. It was as if a conflict had not only been resolved but had been transformed.

This was a tiny window into what lay ahead as my journey from West to East officially began. To an American, it can be exhausting and even oppressive to consider everyone else’s feelings and well-being before our own, but to the Japanese, this is normal and customary. This kind of seriousness creates an energy of gratitude and respect that permeates every interaction. Can you imagine a world where everyone automatically felt gratitude and respect for each other?

Instead of idle chatter among bored and underpaid coworkers, there’s a quiet focus on the work at hand, with extreme attention to detail that makes any experience positive and delightful for customers. Even a visit to a convenience store feels refreshing and uplifting.

I wondered if this life philosophy would even "work" in a place like NYC. I'm doubtful. The environment there is just too cutthroat. But here in Japan, there’s a social fabric that has been fine-tuned, nurtured, and perfected over time.

There’s also an art to correctly receiving an apology or a thank you. Until it’s properly received, the transaction remains incomplete.

To understand where and when an apology is needed, the exact degree required, and then to give and receive it is a practice of sacred emotional mastery that can be both exhausting and exhilarating for those willing to learn something new.

At its core, it all comes down to responsibility.

Being responsible for ourselves and ensuring that those around us are taken care of is a testament to our strength. No responsibility is too big or too grave.

Every time I said "thank you" or "I’m sorry," I felt myself taking a new kind of responsibility for my actions. This act of service to those who received it and to myself brought joy, leaving nothing to complain about.

Taking it deeper into the supercosmic metaphysical (as one does!), I began to give intention to my words. For example, not apologizing just to placate, but apologizing with the intention to transform something. Offering an apology for whatever is in need of one, and using the moment as a doorway.

This is what I’ll call a healing apology, so strong in its intention that it reaches into the heart of the receiver. Much like the Hawaiian Hoʻoponopono Prayer, the apology goes to where all memory lives and brings its medicine of reconciliation.

In a moment, an apology can transform an entire life—my life, her life, their lives, even the spirit of the land. As an American in Japan, specifically in Okinawa, there’s also a unique responsibility to make things right. So, as is customary here, I say "I’m sorry" as much as I can. Even when I don’t need to, I say it with sincerity and love. I remove myself completely; it has nothing to do with me. I only offer my voice and sincerity, and through me, an apology is given. This apology is a peace offering, and somehow, in some way, I feel lighter, happier, and even healed in my own heart. I’m not sure how it all works, but resolution is given—even to me, the messenger—perhaps from those whose apology I so desperately need and have been waiting for, for a very long time.

In my healing sessions with people from all over the world, I can attest to the fact that too many are waiting for their apology—waiting for generations, centuries, millions, and millions of years. And those who need to give it won’t, either because they don’t know how or simply because they don’t know.

The power of "I’m sorry" is profound. While the words are simple, they carry an exquisite medicine for the receiver.

When the flight attendant’s demeanor eased tremendously after I apologized for not ordering my meal in advance and for inconveniencing her, I realized that with understanding, reconciliation can come easily. And when it does, something warm, unconditionally accepting, loving, and free—like friendship—can take root.