AI 번아웃을 극복하는 일본 요리 철학

Hey, what's up? It's Takuya . I've been thinking about how to live well in this AI era as a developer, content creator, and artist. By “living well,” I mean enjoying the act of creating while maintaining good mental health. I imagine many of my readers are also wondering how to survive — and even thrive — amid the rapid changes brought by recent AI advancements. I don’t have all the answers. No one can predict the future precisely. But I believe it’s more a matter of direction than strategy — rather than trying to build some kind of moat around your life as a software-oriented artist. Where do you want to go? What do you want to see? That's what matters. Strategies/moats can be flexibly changed along with the situations. In this article, I’d like to explore a few life principles from Japanese culture. I recently read a book called "一汁一菜でよいという提案" (The Proposal for One Soup, One Dish) by traditional food expert Yoshiharu Doi (土井善晴), and found it very interesting for keeping the pace of your life healthy. We are currently in the midst of "AI fatigue." New services emerge every day, and big company releases change workflows weekly. Chasing every hype doesn't make us more secure; it just fogs up the crucial skills we need to foster. It’s easy to fall into the trap of trying too hard to keep up, only to end up exhausted. Traditional Japanese culture offers a different perspective — one that helps us stay grounded and resilient in the face of uncertainty. Let's dive into it. Video version: Create a rhythm of life where you can return to your own heart's place, a comfortable place Doi-san's book emphasizes that by stripping away the unnecessary, we find our "comfortable place." As he puts it: What is important in life is to create a rhythm of life where you can return to your own heart's place, a comfortable place. 暮らしにおいて大切なことは、自分自身の心の置き場、心地よい場所に帰ってくる生活のリズムを作ること It's easy to get your wishlist or to-do list flooded if you don't have any clear rules, policy, or direction in your life. Let's think about it. For example, on social media, the algorithms try to grab and hold your attention as long as possible by displaying so much gossip and drama depending on your interests. But you have full control of not willingly seeing them. I'm always careful not to spend time tracking gossip or drama on the internet. It lets me keep calm and avoid comparing myself with others, causing me to feel miserable. Learn from Ichiju Issai: One-soup, one-dish To form a rhythm of life, you have to decide what NOT to do in your daily life. In terms of cooking, Doi-san proposes a system called " One-soup One-dish (一汁一菜)", which helped a lot of people who cook for their family every day. This is a style of meal centered around rice, with one soup and one side dish. Eating is an essential part of living. Yet, keeping it simple is surprisingly hard. There are endless food products, recipes, and health tips — and TV shows constantly push us to make beautiful, varied meals for our families every day. Oh, it looks very similar to today's tech industry, doesn't it? People are unconsciously exhausted by all of this, feeling as if they have to create something great every single day. Doi-san saw through this — and freed them by saying: By simplifying meals to Ichiju Issai, cooking becomes free of stress . That alone can make you feel much more at ease. And beyond that, it helps you create time to relax and enjoy your life freely. With that, you rediscover simple pleasures, and a sense of calm and spaciousness returns to your mind. 食事を一汁一菜にすることで、食事作りにストレスはなくなります。それだけで精神的にも随分とらくになるはずですが、その上で、自由にのびのびできる余暇という時間を作ることです。それによって楽しみができて、心に余裕が生まれてきます。 Software developers can't live without software. It is literally an essential part of our lives, and keeping it simple is surprisingly hard. Let's learn from his philosophy behind his principle. Find things that you never get bored with Why does cooking matter so much? Because it is something you do every day, which makes you or someone you love feel really comfortable, as he puts it: As she changed out of her school uniform, she must have heard the sounds of her mother cooking for her right there in the kitchen. She must have caught the smell, too. She could sense her mother’s presence—busy, preparing a meal. Cooking, truly, is an expression of love. How comforting it must have felt to come home. How safe she must have felt. She was feeling, with her whole being, that she was loved. That’s why a parent’s cooking is something special to a child. 妻がその場で娘のために作る料理の音を、娘は制服を着替えるあいだに聞いたでしょう。 匂いを 嗅いだでしょう。母親が台所で料理をする気配を感じているのです。まさに料理は愛情です。どれだけ家に帰ってきてホッとしていることでしょうか。どれだけ安心できたことでしょうか。愛されていることを全身で感じているのです。だから子どもにとって、親の料理は特別なものなのです。 I was deeply moved by this. I cook for my family every evening. It helps me shift from work to home—a transition I don’t get naturally, since I don’t have a commute. My 4-year-old daughter sometimes says, “I can smell something good.” It makes me happy, too. What’s important is having something you do every day that makes you feel safe, comfortable, and happy. It could be anything, such as playing an instrument, going for a walk in the morning, painting, singing, swimming, reading before bed, or meditating. It should be something you never get bored with. Something you’ve truly enjoyed in the past. Something that doesn’t make you compare yourself to others, but instead helps you be mindful. If you don't have it yet, step away from your computer and go outside to experience new things. I feel like it’s important that this habit doesn’t involve a screen, as he suggests: The amazing thing about rice and miso soup is that you never get tired of eating them every day. (...) Generally speaking, processed foods are seasoned to taste delicious the moment you eat them. With such side dishes seasoned by humans, you soon find yourself wanting something with a different flavor again. ご飯と味噌汁のすごいところは、毎日食べても食べ飽きないことです。 (...) だいたい人工的なものというのは、食べてすぐにおいしいと感じるほどに味がつけられています。そういった、人間が味つけをしたおかずというのは、またすぐに違う味つけのものを食べたくなります。 What matters is finding something you can return to every day — something you never tire of, like rice and miso soup, rather than something instantly stimulating but quickly exhausting, like Netflix or doom-scrolling on social media. Cultivating community and ideas like fermentation The more I adapt to algorithms and AI, the more I value organic connections – both with people and with ideas. In his book, Doi-san explains that the things we never tire of are often the things humans didn't "engineer" to be perfect: The rice, miso soup, and pickles that you never tire of are not flavors created by human intent. Rice is simply washed, measured with water, and boiled. Miso, made in Japan since ancient times, is created by microorganisms; it is a different kind of deliciousness than that synthesized by human technology. It is not a human feat. We look at natural scenery and find it beautiful, and we never tire of it, no matter how many times we see it. We are moved by its dynamic changes. Nature blends naturally with nature—and we find this comfortable. By following that comfort, we have nurtured life. 食べ飽きないご飯とお味噌汁、漬物は、どれも人間が意図してつけた味ではありません。ご飯は、米を研いで、水加減して炊いただけ。日本で古くから作られてきた味噌は微生物が作り出したもので、人間の技術で合成したおいしさとは別物です。人間業 ではないのです。 自然の景色を見て美しいと感じ、それは何度見ても見飽きることはありません。そのダイナミックな変化に感動することもあるでしょう。自然は自然とよくなじむ、このことを心地よいと感じます。その心地よさに従って、命を 育んできたのです。 This concept of "not a human feat" (or rather, not a calculated feat) is exactly what’s missing from our digital lives. Algorithms are the "processed seasoning" of the internet — designed to give you an instant hit of dopamine, but leaving you feeling empty and "tired of the flavor" an hour later. I’ve realized that my most resilient moments don't come from a perfectly optimized prompt or a viral post. They come from the "fermentation" of daily life — the slow, messy, unscripted interactions that haven't been optimized for engagement. For example, when I have a quick, casual chat with the barista at Starbucks, or when