In Japan, September 1 is 防災の日 (Disaster Preparedness Day)—a date chosen in remembrance of the 1923 Great Kanto Earthquake. It’s a day when families across the country check emergency supplies, revisit evacuation plans, and reflect on how prepared they are for the unexpected.

But in truth, this sense of preparedness—this 備え—is part of life in Japan year-round.

Living with Nature’s Power

Japan is a country blessed—and burdened—by natural beauty and natural danger.

We grow up with it:

• Earthquakes that can shake us awake
• Typhoons that lash the coasts each summer
• Tsunamis, landslides, floods, volcanic eruptions

We don’t live in denial of these threats. Instead, we live with them. And so we prepare.

Most households have a 防災バッグ (disaster preparedness bag): a simple backpack with food, water, flashlight, batteries, medical supplies, documents—just in case. It’s as ordinary as having an umbrella. Children learn about it at school. Community centers hold drills. Local governments distribute handbooks on what to do and where to go.

This is not panic. It’s 習慣 (shūkan)—habit. Culture. Care.

Sonae Reflects a Deeper Truth: Nothing Is Permanent

At the heart of 備え lies a very Japanese understanding:

Nothing lasts forever. Everything changes.

This idea has a name: 諸行無常 (shogyō mujō)—the impermanence of all things. It’s one of the fundamental Buddhist teachings, and it echoes throughout Japanese culture.

You see it in the architecture: light wooden structures that can flex and sway, built to be repaired, rebuilt, or sometimes surrendered to time.

You see it in seasonal traditions: the cherry blossom festivals that celebrate beauty in full bloom, because it fades so quickly.

You see it in the wabi sabi way of life: embracing imperfection, weathering, and time.

When we prepare—not out of fear, but with quiet awareness—we are practicing sonae.

And we are accepting mujō.

Preparedness in Everyday Life

備え isn’t only for major disasters. It shows up in quiet moments:

• Carrying an umbrella on a cloudy day.
• Buying extra rice, not to hoard—but to share.
• Choosing durable, repairable tools that age with grace.
• Leaving early for an appointment—not from anxiety, but courtesy.

It’s a kind of foresight that lets you move through life with calm.

Not trying to control everything.

Not pretending bad things won’t happen.

But being ready to respond when they do—with dignity, with grace.

A Gentle Prompt

This week, as 防災の日 approaches, take a moment.

• Is there something you could quietly prepare today—not just for emergencies, but for everyday life?

• Could 備え be less about fear, and more about care—for yourself, your family, your neighbors?

• What would it look like to live each day knowing that nothing is permanent—and still finding peace in that?

We’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to leave a comment and share what 備え means to you.