月曜日 11:00 - 19:00 火曜日 11:00 - 19:00 水曜日 11:00 - 19:00 金曜日 11:00 - 19:00 土曜日 11:00 - 19:00

クリニックＦClinic F, 1-8-12 Hirakawa-cho, Chiyoda-ku (2025)

25/09/2025

New International Conference Travelogue – From Those Who Never Fail to Those Who Rise After Failure

Yesterday, my parents came up from Kure to Tokyo for the first time in seven years, but their flight from Hiroshima was delayed by two hours. Since they don’t use Line or Messenger, the only way to contact them was by phone. Now that they’re over 80, they need various kinds of support, so I had anticipated different scenarios and prepared accordingly. Even something as simple as moving around requires thinking in terms of three times the travel time it would take me.

Although I try to visit Kure as often as possible, I feel their aging every time we meet. They’ll be in Tokyo until the weekend, so I want to spend as much time with them as I can. Yesterday my schedule was packed, so making up for the two-hour delay was tough, and we barely arrived in time for the climax of the day’s agenda—Mao Fujita’s concert at Suntory Hall. But they were truly delighted. At this age, being able to do something filial is something I’m deeply grateful for.

It was the final day of Mao Fujita’s three-day concert series. The first two days were Russian-themed, with Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky, while the last day featured a German program of Beethoven and Brahms. Interestingly, the overture and encore were the same across the three days—but more on that another time.

A Digression
Today, I found myself reflecting on the theme of supporting failure.

When faced with an unpredictable flight delay, how should one act, and what steps should be taken to cope? Over the course of more than 400 international business trips, I’ve learned countless ways of handling such setbacks. Looking back, it seems that many Japanese today are so afraid of failure that they stop trying altogether.

“I don’t make mistakes.”
As a catchphrase in a TV drama, it’s exhilarating. But in real life, things are a bit different. Rather than boasting about never failing, what matters more is how one gets back up after failure and how one makes corrections. True ability resides in that very process.

Failure is not “shame” but “asset”
In both medical research and clinical practice, I have felt firsthand the undeniable reality that failure is unavoidable. Treatment plans don’t always go as expected. Research hypotheses are sometimes contradicted by experimental data. Yet each failure becomes an asset that refines our judgment for the future.

Psychologically, resilience is said to be strengthened not by success experiences but by the recovery that follows failure. In other words, it is failure itself that makes us stronger.

Learning from Management: “Fail Fast, Learn Faster”
In the world of management, the phrase “Fail Fast, Learn Faster” has become established. Sitkin’s research shows that organizations that tolerate failure and transform it into learning are the ones that succeed in the long run. Companies that fear failure and avoid challenges may appear stable in the short term but eventually lose opportunities for growth.

Parallels in Clinical Practice
The same holds true in clinical settings. What matters as a physician is not making 100% correct judgments at all times, but rather, when errors or unexpected reactions occur, responding swiftly and flexibly to steer the outcome toward the best possible result for the patient. That very responsiveness earns the patient’s trust.

In the long run, a person who can recover from failure is far stronger than one who never fails. Success is not found in walking an unscathed path, but in the act of standing up after falling.

When an unexpected question comes during a conference presentation, when a golf ball lands in the water hazard, or when an aria is missed on the opera stage—that very moment is, in fact, the true performance.

24/09/2025

My book has been advertised in several newspapers yesterday and today. Thank you very much!

24/09/2025

New International Conference Travelogue – The Definition of Art and the Future of Eroticism
On the Definition of Art
I have often written on this blog about beauty.
“Beauty” holds a special place among human emotions. It is not merely a sensory perception but is always accompanied by pleasure, shaking the brain’s reward system. The chills or goosebumps we feel when experiencing music or painting can, in neuroscience, be explained as a release of dopamine.
At the same time, beauty is shaped by culture. The Greek golden ratio, Japan’s wabi-sabi, India’s polytheistic ornamentation—change the background, and the standards of beauty change as well. Beauty is both an individual perception and a reflection of society’s memory.
As in the ancient triad of “Truth, Goodness, and Beauty,” beauty is one of humanity’s fundamental paths to understanding the world, an emotion that bridges culture and spirit through pleasure.
So, what then is art?
This question has echoed throughout human history. Plato dismissed art coldly as “mere imitation of the Ideas,” a shadow leading us away from truth. Aristotle, however, regarded art as “the grasping of universals through imitation,” a device for catharsis that purifies human emotions.
In modern times, Kant tied art to “aesthetic judgment free from interest,” while Hegel defined it as “the self-expression of Absolute Spirit.” In any case, art has been seen as a human endeavor to transcend the self and connect with something greater.
Contemporary science now casts new light on this classical debate. Neuroscience shows that the chills and goosebumps we feel before a work of art are not arbitrary whims. When we immerse ourselves in music or painting, the reward system of the limbic “animal brain” (the nucleus accumbens) releases dopamine, while the amygdala judges likes and dislikes. The prefrontal cortex of the “human brain” then assigns emotion and meaning. When expectation and surprise, order and disruption, collide in this process, we experience a powerful sensation.
In short, art can be defined as: that which shakes the human brain and heart, generating pleasure beyond meaning. This may be the timeless core of art.
Eroticism as Art
By this definition, erotic expression can indeed be part of art. In fact, precisely because of its primal force, it has been a central subject of art since antiquity.
Eroticism appears in the sexual imagery on Greek pottery, the sensuous sculptures of India’s Khajuraho temples, and the shunga prints of Japanese ukiyo-e artists. These were tied to notions of the sacred, fertility, or humor, and stood not as mere obscenities but as cultural mainstays. In the West, too, the n**es of Titian or Rubens during the Renaissance, imbued with religious allegory, captivated audiences.
Neuroscience confirms this as well: erotic expression goes beyond raw sexual stimulus. Visual erotic cues activate the hypothalamus and reward circuits, while their presentation as art engages the prefrontal cortex, granting social meaning. When these dual circuits—instinct and interpretation—fire simultaneously, we feel an “artistic thrill” absent in po*******hy.
Eroticism, then, touches the very core of art. When primal human desire is sublimated into form, narrative, or aesthetic order, it becomes a genre of “sensual beauty.” That Japanese shunga fascinated foreign collectors and influenced Western modern art testifies to this.
It is said that in recent years some local exhibitions have removed n**e statues. Yet it is precisely because our “animal brain” emotions are sublimated by the “human brain” into art that such works can be displayed publicly. We must not lose sight of this essence.
Perhaps what modern people truly need is to retrain the animal brain by enriching the five senses.
Toward the Future of Art
Where, then, is art headed?
AI-generated paintings, algorithmic music, bodily expression in VR and the metaverse—these are already realities. Art is shifting from something to observe into something to experience, expanding toward direct stimulation of brain and body.
What is especially fascinating is how art is evolving into “the design of neural stimulation.” Immersive VR already extends beyond sight and hearing into touch and the vestibular sense. With AI, art can now be instantly tailored to each individual’s preferences and emotions. Thus emerges a new form of art, not as “works” but as “neural experiences.”
Eroticism is no exception. VR-based erotic expression and AI-generated erotic visuals hold the potential to stimulate both beauty and pleasure in unprecedented ways. Naturally, this will invite ethical debate and social regulation. Yet if the essence of art is “to generate chills,” then eroticism’s place at the frontier of future art is inevitable.
In the end, art is humanity’s most luxurious form of neural stimulation.
By that definition, eroticism has always been, and will continue to be, part of art—now poised to merge with technology and open new horizons.
Plato’s despised shadows, Aristotle’s catharsis, and today’s neuroscientific “chills”—all of these shape the essence of art.
Future art, through tools like AI and VR, will refine the duet between “instinct” and “meaning” with greater precision.
And we, its witnesses, will not merely observe art—we will experience creation itself, with our own brains and hearts.

24/09/2025

New International Conference Travelogue – Classical Music and the Etiquette of Applause
When attending a classical concert hall, the thing that most often confuses first-time listeners is when to applaud.
There are really only two rules of etiquette worth remembering.
First: do not clap between movements. A symphony or concerto is a single work made up of multiple movements; applauding in the middle interrupts the story.
Second: wait until the conductor has completely lowered the baton. Those few seconds after the final sound has faded, when the hall is filled with silence, are also part of the music. To applaud too soon is disrespectful not only to other listeners but also to the conductor and the orchestra.
The Dilemma of Beethoven’s Fate
Take Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5, the famous Fate Symphony, as a familiar example. After the first movement, with its iconic “da-da-da-DAAAH!” motif, one feels compelled to applaud. But of course, the work is far from over. Even here, the proper etiquette is to remain silent and wait.
The Trap in Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique
Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 6, the Pathétique, is another well-known case. The third movement concludes with a brilliant march, often provoking thunderous applause from the audience. Yet immediately after comes the deeply tragic final movement. Applauding here interrupts the dramatic flow the composer intended. More than once, I have seen conductors dramatically lower their arms to signal: “Not yet—it’s not finished.”
Parsifal and the Ritual of Silence
There are exceptions, however. Wagner’s Parsifal was once performed at the Bayreuth Festival Theatre under a strict ban on applause between acts. The audience would sit in breathless silence until the very end, when applause was finally permitted. The experience resembled a religious ritual more than a concert; the first time I encountered it, I was overwhelmed by the almost suffocating stillness.
An Episode at Suntory Hall
Still, many audience members remain unsure in practice.
Once, at Suntory Hall during a performance of Beethoven’s Fate Symphony, an elderly gentleman beside me burst into hearty applause at the end of the first movement. There was a brief stir in the audience, but his face showed nothing but pure emotion. Far from being annoyed, I found it rather endearing. Even though etiquette says otherwise, his applause was a spontaneous response born of genuine feeling.
That moment made me reflect again on the balance between the power of music and the rules of manners.
Silence as Part of the Music
In the symphonies of Mahler or Bruckner, silence holds an even greater weight.
Sometimes applause breaks out after the Adagietto of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony, but that is like inserting a crude interruption into a vast unfolding narrative.
As for Bruckner, audiences almost never clap between movements. His symphonies are structured like cathedrals, and the silence is itself part of the architecture.
By contrast, in opera, applause and cries of “bravo!” after each aria are expected—and they become part of the interplay with the stage.
In classical music, applause is not merely a matter of courtesy; it is one way of participating in the music itself.
First, remember the basic etiquette: remain still and quiet. Then, let the piece and the atmosphere of the hall guide your response.
To witness those moments—that is one of the small joys I cherish as a traveler visiting concert halls around the world.

24/09/2025

New International Conference Travelogue – A Night of “Resonance” with Mao Fujita’s Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 2
I witnessed an extraordinary performance.
Truly, there’s no other way to put it.
La Scala Philharmonic in Japan and the Maestro’s Baton
On stage was the Philharmonic Orchestra of Teatro alla Scala, the world’s most prestigious opera house.
At the podium stood Maestro Myung-Whun Chung. With his profound knowledge of La Scala’s tradition and his ability to bring infinite expression to the sound, his conducting was nothing short of overwhelming.
The soloist of the evening was Mao Fujita.
Back in 2020, when I conducted the “Music as the Best Doctor” concert, he was not yet world-renowned, but I invited him to perform as a soloist because I immediately sensed his extraordinary talent. That connection has remained ever since.
Looking back on my life, that moment will undoubtedly stand out as one of the great highlights.
Since then, however, his evolution has been nothing short of astonishing.
Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2—already one of the most difficult works even for professional pianists to play strictly as written—Fujita rendered with effortless grace, each note imbued with vivid expression.
From the very opening chords, the sound was different. The instant it resonated, it struck me like a direct hit to the heart.
Unforgettable, above all, was the long silence at the end of the cadenza in the second movement—and the breathtaking beauty of the music’s reawakening that followed.
Surely, this must be among the finest Rachmaninoffs one can hear in the world today.
“Resonance” from the Perspective of Neuroscience
When we listen to music, our brains do more than just process sound.
The prefrontal cortex, the limbic system—the so-called “animal brain”—resonate with each other, extending into emotion and memory. In other words, a concert hall becomes a “field of resonance,” where the audience’s brains synchronize through the medium of sound.
Indeed, neuroscience has shown that during the climax of a concert, the brain activity of audience members synchronizes. That night, Fujita’s performance made me feel this phenomenon in the most visceral way.
The Tradition of La Scala Resonating with the Heart
I was reminded of the atmosphere when you step out of La Scala in Milan, walk through the Galleria, and emerge into the Piazza del Duomo.
The ensemble of the Scala Philharmonic carries within it an operatic sense of color and a tradition of precise coordination passed down through generations. Closing my eyes, I felt I was no longer in Japan. Responding to Chung’s baton, the sound transformed like silk threads, binding the heart of the entire hall into one.
The Program’s Flow and Inspired Encores
The evening opened with Verdi’s La forza del destino overture. By the time Fujita’s Rachmaninoff was over, I was utterly shattered—too dazed even to stand.
The second half brought Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique.
I remembered conductor Ken-ichiro Kobayashi once saying, “After the Pathétique, you cannot play an encore,” and closing his concert in silence. I thought that made perfect sense. But this night was different.
First came the tender intermezzo from Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana.
What a beautiful encore, I thought—until the baton rose once more.
The evening ended with Rossini’s William Tell overture, sweeping away all heaviness and filling the hall with light.
An Unforgettable Experience of Resonance
Mao Fujita’s Rachmaninoff No. 2 went beyond a great performance—it was an experience of “resonance,” uniting the minds and hearts of the audience.
As I recalled his playing when we performed together in 2020, I felt deeply moved by the dimensional leap in his artistry.
Despite ticket prices being around 40,000 yen, every seat was sold out. At first, I thought that was impressive in itself. But afterward, I realized: for only 40,000 yen, I was given an experience beyond measure. I could feel nothing but gratitude.
Considering the value of tickets for his concertos, I am certain they will soon exceed 100,000 yen. That night, I resolved to hear him as many times as I can while it is still possible at this price.
At the intersection of music and neuroscience, I was once again convinced that “art has the power to keep people alive.”
It was a day I will never forget.

23/09/2025

5th “Bach and Britten” Unaccompanied Cello Suites
The final session of cellist Rintaro Kaneko’s “Cello & Wine Gathering”
Held at the Golf Medical Science Institute in Hanzomon
Participation fee: ¥15,000
This weekend, Saturday the 27th, from 3:00 PM.
The Fujimoto family will be attending with parents visiting Tokyo for the first time in six years.

Listening to live cello performances right in front of you while enjoying wine is truly a noble experience.
There are apparently two seats remaining, so if you’d like to join, please feel free to come! If interested, please send a private message.

Program:

Bach: Suite for Solo Cello No. 5 in C minor, BWV1011

Benjamin Britten: Third Suite for Cello, Op. 87

Wine List:

2021 Domaine David Duband Gevrey-Chambertin – ¥17,050 (tax included)

2022 Domaine David Duband Chambolle-Musigny – ¥19,800 (tax included)

23/09/2025

A high school classmate spotted my book at a nearby bookstore and sent me a photo. I’m truly grateful.

“Post-AI Era” — The world today is in the midst of a major social paradigm shift, where most of what people used to achieve through years of rigorous exam preparation can now be performed by computers.

We need to start adjusting our values early. What will truly be needed in the coming era is the discernment to identify shining truths amid vast and diverse information, and a broad, deep cultural literacy.

23/09/2025

Seeing patients at Clinic F. Shine Muscat grapes have also arrived from Okayama. I’m so happy!

23/09/2025

Due to bad weather in Bangkok, we arrived at Haneda 30 minutes late. It was a whirlwind four-night business trip—Tottori Yonago, Okayama, Bangkok, and on the plane—but all tasks were successfully completed. Today, I’ll be seeing patients at Clinic F and will keep going until night.

23/09/2025

Travel Notes from a New International Conference — Where Was the Golden Country of Zipangu?

Having finished a one-night work trip in Bangkok, I am now waiting for my return flight in the airport lounge.

Whenever I visit Bangkok, the golden Buddhist stupas shining against the blue sky always take my breath away. Their dazzling glow, reflecting the sunlight, truly justifies the description of this land as the “Golden Country.”

A passage from Marco Polo’s The Travels of Marco Polo immediately came to mind: the “Golden Country of Zipangu.”

Marco Polo’s Zipangu
At the end of the 13th century, the Venetian merchant Marco Polo described a country called “Cipangu” in his Travels of Marco Polo. He wrote that it was “filled with gold, and the roofs and walls of the palaces were decorated with gold.”

In Chinese at the time, Japan was called “Jipeng,” which later morphed into “Zipangu.” The scholarly consensus is clear: Zipangu = Japan.

So why is there a theory that “Thailand = Zipangu”?
Yet, when standing in the midst of a journey, one can understand the allure of alternative theories.

From northern Thailand to Burma, gold trade flourished for centuries. During the Ayutthaya Kingdom, the region prospered as a city of “golden stupas” and immense wealth.

In the 16th century, merchants from all over the world gathered there, creating a scene truly worthy of being called a “land shining with gold.” Furthermore, historical maps and records often confused the islands of the Far East with the Southeast Asian mainland.

These circumstances likely gave rise to the romantic notion that Zipangu might have been Thailand rather than Japan.

Two Countries Connected by Gold
Historically, the Zipangu = Japan theory remains dominant. However, gazing up at Bangkok’s golden stupas, one can imagine that the “Golden Country” was not only Japan but also the broader image of Asia, including Thailand.

From Kyoto’s Kinkaku-ji to Hiraizumi’s Chūson-ji and the golden palaces of Bangkok, in both East and Southeast Asia, “gold” has continued to shine as a symbol of faith and prosperity.

Perhaps the story told by Marco Polo was, in fact, a “golden thread” connecting the two countries.

The Japanese Who Lived in Ayutthaya — The Era of Yamada Nagamasa
In the 17th century, a Japanese quarter existed in the central Southeast Asian city of Ayutthaya. Samurai and merchants arrived via the Shuinsen trade ships, and Yamada Nagamasa eventually rose to become the mercenary captain of the Ayutthaya court.

To townspeople in Edo, his story was an adventurous tale from the south; to us today, it represents the daring ventures of Japanese people before the era of globalization.

Royal and Imperial Exchanges — Friendship Between Modern States
In the late 19th century, the Siamese kingdom struggled to maintain independence under pressure from Western powers. King Chulalongkorn (Rama V) felt a sense of affinity toward Meiji Japan, which was also rapidly modernizing.

Thailand, the only Asian country to avoid colonization, and Japan, which had asserted itself as a major power after the Sino-Japanese and Russo-Japanese wars, viewed each other as “comrades protecting independence.”

The Bonds of Motorization and Industry
Postwar exchanges evolved into economic collaboration. From the 1970s onward, Japanese automakers expanded into Thailand, shaping today’s “Detroit of Asia.” From the lives of factory workers to logistics infrastructure, the presence of Japanese companies became intertwined with the growth of the Thai economy.

Looking out of a taxi window after the conference, seeing the streets lined with Toyota, Honda, and Nissan signs, I was reminded again how Japanese technology has become part of daily life.

A New Bridge in Medicine and Culture
Today, exchanges also extend to my field: medicine and aesthetics. At conferences in Thailand, I meet doctors eager to learn about Japanese lasers and anti-aging treatments.

While valuing traditional medicine, they are open to adopting cutting-edge technologies. In them, I see the future of collaborative healthcare between Japan and Thailand.

The Smile and the Spirit of Harmony
If Thailand is the “Land of Smiles” and Japan the “Land of Harmony,” then what has linked these two nations has always been a “spirit that values harmony.”

Through the wars of Ayutthaya, the protection of modern independence, and the fostering of contemporary economic and cultural exchanges, there has flowed a sense of heartfelt kinship beyond mere interests.

On the way back from the conference, as I looked back at a stupa illuminated by the setting sun, I reflected:

Zipangu was indeed Japan.
Yet Thailand is also a “Golden Country” in its own right, still captivating the world with its smiles and radiance.

The story connecting these two nations will continue to be woven as a “golden history of exchange.”

23/09/2025

I didn’t notice it while at the conference venue in Bangkok, but 1 baht is 4.64 yen. I remember it used to be roughly three times that, or a little less. Quite a shock.

23/09/2025

Of course. Bringing durians into the hotel is prohibited.

クリニックＦClinic F

25/09/2025

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