When you tweet about an earthquake, the quake usually stops by the time you’ve opened twitter and tweeted about it. This might sound funny to most of you who don’t use twitter or don’t live in Japan, but this is what I do when I feel the earth trembling.

With the earthquake that hit the north part of Japan at 2:46pm on 11 March, 2011, it was different.

By the time I went online and opened twitter, the quake was getting even stronger. I felt as though this earthquake was never going to stop.

Books fell off a book shelf. Plates and cups fell off a cupboard and got smashed into pieces. That’s pretty much the largest damage we got at our place. Compared to what happened in the north east part of Japan, it was nothing. Having said that, however, it was the largest earthquake I ever experienced in my life and strong enough to make me feel terrible.

I felt many, many earthquakes throughout this one year since 11 March, 2011. I believe it is the case that many, many earthquakes hit Japan. At the same time, it’s probably because I’ve been alerted and sensitive about earthquakes. You never know when the next one is going to be, so it makes sense for me to be in this kind of state.

Now that I’m in Sydney, Australia, I don’t have to feel this way. But what’s funny is this makes me aware of how unusual and stressful it can be to feel constantly threatened by the possibility of a big earthquake.

A while ago, I learned about this video clip that makes a visual representation of the earthquakes that happened before and after the 311 earthquake. I started watching it, and when it got to that big earthquake, it was like hundreds of earthquake as well as a big one hit Japan. That visual representation freaked me out and I had to stop watching it. That was new to me–I mean, I never thought I would freak out and have to stop watching that kind of thing. But I had to. I don’t think I can watch it or anything like that.

I’m not even someone who suffered devastatingly from the earthquake or the tsunami, and I’m like that. It must be really, really tough for people who went through these natural disasters. I can only imagine what it’s like for them.

Around my place, everything was quiet and the sky was still beautiful a couple of hours after 2:46pm on 11 March. It made me feel surreal.

It’s beautiful today.

Many of us (i.e. you and I) get to enjoy ordinary things like drinking a cup of coffee, going to a park, and having a great conversation with friends, without feeling threatened by the fact that the nature could destroy us in an instant.

You are alive today and your life goes on. Is today beautiful for you too?