Winter in Hakone

Journal entry — January, hinoki steam

I remember the steam rising from the onsen — warm against the mountain air, carrying the scent of hinoki. It was the purest thing I had smelled.

Hakone in winter is quiet in a way that feels sacred. Snow on stone. Cypress on skin. A bowl of hot tea in your hands. There’s no rush, only return.

Bathing becomes ritual. Scent becomes grounding.

That winter, I stopped trying to fill the silence.

Winter in Hakone

I think of hinoki often when I light incense now. Not just for scent, but for stillness. For the feeling of returning to yourself