二十一世紀の黄金とは何かWhat Is the Gold of the Twenty-First Century?

It is no longer wealth, nor fame, and certainly not follower counts. It is the resource that has become most scarce in modern society, increasingly difficult to find in the external world, and therefore carries the highest value. That resource is "Silence."

As symbolized by the rise of AI and the acceleration of automation—phenomena everyone is already experiencing—technological aspects will drastically transform social structures in the coming era. In this context, the concept that will undoubtedly emerge as the new gold is silence. However, we must not misunderstand: this silence is not a resource buried somewhere in the world, something to be "searched for." The concept of silence itself requires a significant update.

Until now, many people believed that spaces of quietude existed in the outside world, and they traveled to escape the noise of daily life. They believed the answer lay in the external world, thinking that physical movement would solve internal problems. And they were correct. Movement created sources of ideas; those who moved had richer imaginations and exponentially more business opportunities than those who settled and remained static. But that is now a story of the past.

The spread of LCCs and the tide of globalization were, in a sense, attempts to democratize this worldview. But as the explosive penetration of social media became intertwined with this, the tide reversed. It now feels as though people are traveling to exterminate silence from the face of the earth. As someone living in an urban area of Japan, I keenly feel that overtourism has destroyed external silence; modern tourists act like a military police force, destroying silence the moment it is discovered. In other words, it has become critical not to be found by those squirming to destroy quietude, but simultaneously, possessing a place or space of silence in the outside world has itself become a risk.

Through these real-world experiences, while contemplating my next move, I realized something: a wise person can immerse themselves in silence without moving a single step. This is because silence is not something to be discovered, but something to be "created" by one’s own will and technique. If we change our perspective, a suspicion arises: no matter how much we travel seeking silence externally, if there is no silence within our own internal world—that unseen inner realm—aren't we merely engaging in a temporary detox?

In reality, we in the modern age are routinely exposed to a muddy torrent of information via smartphones. In response, palliative treatments like digital detoxing and mindfulness have come into vogue. But no matter what methodologies are proposed, how many people realize that these are, after all, merely symptomatic treatments? They are nothing more than temporary evacuation measures. Just as symptomatic therapy does not have the power to cure the root cause of a disease, throwing money at the problem will not achieve sustainable silence. The fundamental issue is that this digital society we live in is a system structurally designed not to permit silence. Therefore, for humans used by the digital society, silence possesses a strictness: it cannot be tolerated; it must not be allowed.

The point of focus here is settlement. In the common sense of the last few centuries regarding sedentary life, people constructed silence within the places and buildings where they settled. However, due to global environmental changes, social instability, and the massive progression of the digital society, the concept of settlement itself—once the norm—has begun to collapse. Whether we like it or not, we are entering a nomadic century where everyone may suddenly be forced to move. Given the character of this era, constructing silence dependent on a specific location is far too fragile and becomes a risk. If we view the state of "unable to obtain silence unless I go to that place" as dependency, we carry the risk that our own mental and physical stability could easily collapse in this unpredictable modern age where anything can happen. I call this the "Vulnerability of silence."

That is precisely why we must update the concept to fit the times. Modern silence is not something given, nor is it something made by someone else; I redefine it as an invisible fortress that one can construct personally, nomadically, within the chaos, regardless of location or situation. Here, I present the wisdom of ancient Japanese technology: "Kekkai."

To understand the effect of Kekkai, let us first wind back the clock. In the late seventh century, Japan was in an unstable social situation, threatened by successive civil wars, struggles for hegemony, and military pressure from the continent. People of this era knew well that events occurring in the visible world were inevitably caused by mutations in the invisible world. In other words, the invisible world mutates first, and if one does not notice the signs and deal with them, the phenomenon will occur in the visible world with a time lag.

Therefore, the most serious problem for them was not the issues of the visible world. It was the shadow of death: invisible plagues, famines, and the vengeful spirits (Onryo) born of grudges and curses. It was in this disquieting, turbulent era that the 40th Emperor, Tenmu (reign: 673-686), ascended to the throne following a military coup he led himself.

Emperor Tenmu, having taken the throne in a time so unstable that he never knew when he might be assassinated—a time when people had lost themselves and were uncontrollable—swiftly constructed a new-era system adopting the most advanced science of the time to deal with this unprecedented crisis of national survival. That system was called the "Onmyo-ryo."

The Onmyo-ryo was an agency and government post for those who utilized the wisdom known as "Onmyo-do" (The Way of Yin and Yang), which consisted of the "Yin-Yang Theory" and "Five Elements Theory" born and integrated early in ancient China. They were not a superstitious institution performing fortune-telling or magic. To use a modern American administrative analogy, they were a supreme national intelligence and crisis management agency, combining the functions of the Meteorological Agency, the CIA, and the CDC.

In the Onmyo-ryo, Chinese classics such as the Wuxing Dayi (The Great Meaning of the Five Elements) were used as textbooks. Their duties consisted mainly of three pillars: "Onmyo: deciphering disasters through divination and geomancy," "Calendar: deciphering disasters from the calendar," and "Astronomy: deciphering disasters from the movement of celestial bodies." In short, it was wisdom not for "disasters that have happened," but for reading "coming disasters"—predicting future situations and preparing for them.

This was because the true threat to the people of that time was invisible forces such as vengeful spirits and curses. For the rulers—the Imperial family and aristocracy—who viewed these actual harms as problematic, fighting this invisible enemy in earnest was a grave matter directly linked to life and death. Thus, under Emperor Tenmu, the cutting-edge science of the Yin-Yang Five Elements theory, imported from China at the time, was adopted as the state's structural philosophy. And the important thing is, Emperor Tenmu did not merely direct the project; he himself was capable of utilizing Onmyo-do better than anyone else.

With the creation of a national agency to deal with the invisible risks of vengeful spirits and curses, things stabilized for a while after Tenmu. However, the era eventually entered the Nara Period (710-794), which became extremely unstable again, with regime overthrows by vengeful spirits and the downfall of rulers. At this time, it might appear that the influence of those utilizing Onmyo-do had declined. But in fact, that was not the case. In the process of Buddhism—which also had foreign roots—permeating significantly, monks incorporated this wisdom into Buddhism. The reason Buddhist orders of the time came to hold considerable real power in various regions was that monks utilized the political strategy of confronting these invisible risks while incorporating the context of the Onmyo-ryo.

However, no matter what was done, the instability could not be resolved. Finally, the Imperial family abandoned the land of present-day Nara, which had functioned as the capital for a long period since ancient times, and decided to move to present-day Kyoto—a remote, undeveloped land that had been despised by rulers of the time as "not a land for people to live"—to establish a new capital. This was the beginning of the Heian Period in 794.

The crucial point is that in the construction of Heian-kyo to establish this capital in Kyoto, before the capital was built, Kekkai (Sanctuary Architecture) was first constructed in all directions by the Onmyoji (Technologists of the Void), and the capital was built only within those invisible defensive walls. Naturally, the rulers had abandoned their beloved homeland solely to escape vengeful spirits and curses, fleeing to a land dotted with tribes they considered remote and barbaric; they wanted to avoid being tormented by the same anxieties as before in this new land. Inevitably, people possessing the professional skills to meet that demand approached the rulers and began to hold immense power. These were the professionals called Onmyoji in the Heian period. Their roots lie in the aforementioned Onmyo-ryo. By eliminating invisible risks through Kekkai and guarding the lives of the rulers, the Onmyoji became entities akin to exclusive attaches to the rulers, gradually increasing their political voice. Among these Onmyoji, the one who appeared as a charismatic figure was Abe Seimei (921-1005).

The Onmyoji were not chanting magic spells. They were engaging in extremely logical "System Engineering of the invisible world," stretching intricate Kekkai (an energetic perimeter) across the capital (Microcosmos), maintaining it day and night, and protecting internal order from external chaos. They used the code known as "Shu" (呪) to implement software for protecting the sanctuary onto the hardware of the city. Through this, Heian-kyo gained the power to break free from conventional fragility, reviving time and again despite facing turbulent eras. I believe this is actually the greatest factor that has allowed Kyoto to maintain its history to this day. Even now, invisible Kekkai are stretched across every corner of Kyoto. Therefore, when I visit Kyoto, I move based on those Kekkai and never step outside of them.

Now, with this in mind, let us return our perspective to the modern age. At a glance, it seems as if science has won a complete victory in our world. However, my assessment is that the essential situation has not changed at all since the Heian period; in fact, it has worsened. We are now besieged by constant surveillance via algorithms, the anonymous malice of the unspecified masses swirling on social media, the pandemic of information known as fake news, and the vengeful spirits of nameless anxiety eating away at the mind. The current situation, where the younger generation in developed nations—who are directly affected by this—are collectively falling into the abyss of mental illness, honestly feels like nothing other than the price paid for believing too much in science. That is precisely why we must correct our attitude of leaning solely on science at the individual level, set up Kekkai around our defenseless selves against the invisible world, and protect our own bodies. And this has nothing to do with whether one is rich or not. Unlike science, which requires vast research funds, this is not a budget issue.

If one is rich, one can invest huge sums in physical security, but that is merely defense of the external world; one cannot outsource a firewall to prevent intrusion into one's own sphere of consciousness. In other words, if we position the firewall of one’s own consciousness as Kekkai, social status is irrelevant. Yet strangely, modern people are all like naked figures standing trembling at the intersection of a Heian-kyo without Kekkai. There could be nothing more dangerous, yet on the other hand, this domain is constantly infested with vast amounts of frivolous spiritualism. That is why I argue for constructing Kekkai yourself, rather than delegating it to others. That way, there is no risk of being co-opted by frivolous spiritualism.

Since invisible risks exist in reality and threaten our survival, it is a fact that countermeasures must also exist in reality. Rather than resigning ourselves to the current state of being used by the giant forces of algorithms and social systems, the new era demands that we become modern Onmyoji and set up Kekkai with our own hands. What becomes important here is the modern reinterpretation of the "Five Elements Theory (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water)," the fundamental theory of Onmyo-do. Many are mistaken, but this is not about drawing magic circles; it is a framework for circulating the energy of the self as a Microcosmos and building the strongest defense system. This becomes the basic theory, concluding in the advanced "Yin-Yang Five Elements Theory." So, this time, I will utilize this wisdom to reinterpret it for the modern age.

Before handling the materials of the Five Elements, we must first understand the basic operation of the higher concept that supervises them: the logic of In-Yo (Yin and Yang). Many modern people misunderstand In-Yo as merely a story of balance, like "light and shadow" or "good and evil," but that is a major mistake.

"Yang" is the transmission mode for you to function on the battlefield of external society. It is the aspect of yourself that acts as an external interface—doing work, broadcasting on social media, negotiating with others. It can be called an avatar of yourself that you create, necessary for survival in society.

Conversely, "In" (Yin) is the latency mode, completely disconnected from the world. It is the core self that touches no one's eyes, requires no evaluation, and simply strategizes and sharpens intuition within pure silence.

The fatal pathology held by modern society lies in the fact that society and others—the "external"—force the "Yang (Connection)" state upon us 24 hours a day, and have physically exterminated "In (Silence)." In the original In-Yo theory, the two are not separated but are effective in non-separation. In other words, it is crucial to understand that In and Yang are not two different parts. This is easily understood if you think of the relationship between "inhaling" and "exhaling" in breathing. Because you exhale deeply, you can inhale anew. The state where these two circulate without interruption, becoming one great swell, is the form of healthy life.

However, modern life is excessively biased solely toward "inhaling (Yang)." It is a self-evident truth that if one keeps trying to inhale, one will eventually suffocate. In fact, it is known that modern people have shallow breathing, but this is because consciousness has not reached the act of exhaling before inhaling. Actually, the key to meditation that focuses on breath is not inhaling, but exhaling. By exhaling deeply, one can inhale deeply. Therefore, an easy way to know which side of In-Yo you are biased toward is to look at your HRV (Heart Rate Variability).

Thus, modern life strengthens the tendency to be excessively biased toward one side, resulting in separation because non-separation cannot be maintained. Consequently, we fall into a situation where we engage in digital detox or mindfulness to correct the separated part. Why is the effect not maximized? Because we do not perceive the state of being separated itself. Therefore, it degrades into symptomatic treatment, becoming nothing more than temporary comfort. The reason is that trendy methods like digital detox and mindfulness are like hurriedly inhaling oxygen when on the verge of suffocation; they are not fundamental solutions. They are a typical lineage of palliative care. This is because they are merely temporary measures taken without noticing the unnaturalness of oneself "having stopped breathing." No matter how much rest you take in a state where circulation is dead, it will not lead to true regeneration.

The Onmyoji of the past used Kekkai to protect this rhythm of life. During the day, they were intensely active in the light of the "Yang" of politics, but when night came, they closed the Kekkai and dove into the deep darkness of "In," where no one's eyes could reach. There, they sharpened the "Shu" (Code) of words and reconstructed their internal worlds.

What we moderns need is this range of oscillation. We do not need the half-hearted balance often spoken of in the world. In and Yang are not things to be mixed, but opposite poles to be traversed deeply. When in the light, behave thoroughly as light; when sinking into darkness, become silent like the deep sea. In a healthy state of non-separation, this sustainability will not collapse. The power to draw this borderline vividly with one's own will and sever oneself from the world is the essence of Onmyo-do, and it becomes the absolute foundation for making the following five manners of the "Five Elements" function. This is strictly my own modern reinterpretation.

First, the nature of "Metal." This is "Cold Severance." Since it is the action of physically cutting off noise with the sharpness possessed by metal, this is a clear expression of refusal against things that threaten the silence inside your Kekkai—such as turning off your smartphone or organizing unnecessary human relationships. Making decisions like a sharp blade; this is the first step of the Kekkai.

Next, the nature of "Wood." This is "Flexible Architecture." If you only protect, the Kekkai will eventually become suffocating. Like a tree that spreads roots in the earth while stretching branches to the sky, design capability to build a system is required. At this time, extend the antenna of intuition high, reading the winds of the times, yet possessing a suppleness (Resilience) that never breaks. The key is to build a structure within yourself that continues to grow organically, rather than becoming rigid.

Then, the nature of "Earth." This is the "Immovable Center." No matter how much the world becomes fluid or liquefied, this is the creation of an axis by driving an absolute anchor into yourself. It must never be something that wavers due to trends or the evaluations of others; it is something powerful formed by your unique aesthetics and gravity. Simultaneously, even in an unstable era, this becomes the power to constantly clarify the coordinates of where you stand, defining that spot as your home ground. Therefore, no matter how the world fluctuates, you do not waver.

Next, the nature of "Fire." This is the "Combustion of Consciousness." Silence is not a dead quiet; in its center, there exists a high-density concentration burning pale blue. Fire burns away impurities; this is realized by throwing distractions like fear and hesitation into the furnace of passion, turning them into fuel. The heat of consciousness, concentrated on a single point like a laser, becomes the energy source maintaining the strength of the Kekkai.

Finally, the nature of "Water." This is "Flow and Purification." Stagnation is the source of impurity (Kegare). Therefore, it is vital to have a metabolic system that does not let thoughts solidify, constantly incorporating new knowledge while simultaneously washing away past success experiences and even pride. Just as water constantly changes shape while maintaining its essence, you maintain a state that is flexible yet pristine.

Positioning these as the modern interpretation of the Five Elements theory, the trigger that integrates and adjusts them all—not separating them, but under the "I"—and activates them anytime, anywhere, is "Shu" (Code), or in other words, "Definition by Words." Here, I position the "I" as the entity that integrates and adjusts In-Yo in non-separation; this refers to the "Taiji" (Supreme Polarity), the esoteric secret of Onmyo-do. Since Taiji is the source from which In and Yang are generated in non-separation, it is, in short, the "I" (though this "I" is not the subject in the modern sense).

Since ancient times in Japan, words have been considered to possess spiritual power as "Kotodama" (Spirit of Words). Interpreting this modernly, words are the most effective technology for living in an impossible reality, shifting from a reality created by someone else. If you reach this state, simply declaring "This is my sanctuary," regulating your breath, and correcting your posture will have an effect. The moment that sequence of ritualistic behavior is executed, the quality of the space transforms, transcending physical laws.

Thus, while "setting up a Kekkai" has a spiritual ring to it, it is not spiritual escapism. It is an extremely active and rebellious act of thrusting a "NO" at the world's noise and creating the order of pure silence inside yourself, anytime, anywhere. However, the basic rule of this modern survival method is to do it quietly, without telling anyone. If you tell someone, noise will immediately intrude upon the peace of your silence. In the past and present, the inner secrets of Kotodama and Shinto are "Tagon-muyo" (strictly confidential); they are never leaked to the outside.

Whether we like it or not, we must survive this chaotic era. No one will protect you. That is precisely why you must manipulate the Five Elements with your own hands and build the strongest fortress on the front lines of consciousness.