SHŌGUN: 4 TAKEAWAYS FROM THE SHOW TO ELEVATE YOUR SOUL

“Flowers are only flowers because they fall.”

Straight to the verdict—it touched my soul. How could it not, with poetry like the above woven in so effortlessly? Ten episodes depicted Japan’s culture and traditions (set mainly in Osaka) that we still experience today, though somewhat toned down.

Living here as foreigners, Lana and I nodded, shook our heads, rolled our eyes, and watched in awe. We followed every expression, every artistic turn, every bad decision, and every internal struggle the characters faced.

Uncovering these pieces of history makes you understand why they act the way they do (and why they refrain from doing the things they don’t). Shōgun’s cultural depictions are portrayed so realistically that I even agreed with how they highlighted the East-West clashes, misunderstandings, and barriers.

The storyline follows various plots: from religion to feudal Japan’s chase for power, to a foreigner’s fight for survival in a strange land. But I have no synopsis for you—only the takeaways I gained from the lines that struck me most.

"Accepting death isn’t surrender. Flowers are only flowers because they fall."

I’m always amazed at how they approach death and their fate. They have a profound understanding of life’s transience. Flowers are only flowers because they fall—life is only perceived as life because of death’s presence.

You can either be afraid of its inevitability and live with resistance, or accept it and make the most of your time ‘touching grass’—as the kids say. I would very much prefer the latter. This ties in with another line that captures the beauty of impermanence: “We live and we die. We control nothing beyond that.”

Almost all of the characters in the show embodied this mindset. You see them willingly fighting and dying for their lord, mission, and country.

“All life is a struggle."

Failure, pain, rejection, and struggle—they are universal. No human is spared from internal or external suffering. My favorite author coined his wise words from this: "Happiness requires struggle."

One cannot simply run away from suffering, because chasing a life without suffering is a form of suffering. Not wanting to struggle is a form of struggle. Trying to escape failure is a failure. Everything—and I mean everything—about living is a struggle. There is no point in trying to avoid it.

The best we can do is choose our struggle. Choose your suffering. Take the suffering you enjoy most and run with it. Any route you take involves setbacks and failures—tread the one that allows you to endure and keep going.

”Patience is the companion of wisdom."

Patience is a non-negotiable part of true wisdom. But modern times prove the lack of it in almost every circumstance. This is reflected in both the mundane and the grand.

Think about every huge goal. We know things don’t happen overnight, yet we resort to get-rich-quick schemes or shortcuts to the top. The easiest way to freedom.

That’s why we also know countless stories of those who walked away, those who succumbed to bitterness and helplessness. They are the ones who never understood patience—the ones who never saw the magic in efforts that compound over time.

Yes, great things take time. There’s planning and re-planning, pivoting and re-evaluating, letting go and trying once more.

It isn’t for everyone—only the patient and the wise emerge in the end.

This brings me to my final takeaway, beautifully captured in this poem by Mariko and Ochiba:

“While the snow remains,

veiled in the haze of cold evening,

a leafless branch

…thankfully, the wind.”

The contrast and conflicting perspectives in this poem feel timely. I received news today that makes me feel like the first half of the poem—still, frozen in time, where the coldness blurs my clarity. It leaves me vulnerable to the pain of yet another rejection.

An earlier version of me would have stubbornly clung to the cold, left stifled by the moment. But no. From where I am now, I welcome the wind—for even with its disruptive nature, it offers change and movement.

The wind lends us relief and hope for a new beginning. A life of true freedom—something bigger than we ever could have imagined.

As I reflect on these lessons, I hope this newsletter inspires you to watch the critically acclaimed Shōgun.

And even if you don’t, I hope these takeaways stay with you, ready to resurface when you need them most.

Stay Soulful,
Jopaz