One of the many amazing places I visited in Japan was a collection of shrines and temples on Mt. Misen on the island of Miyajima. As we hiked up the mountain trail it seemed as though every curve held another elaborate wooden temple, an ancient well tended shrine, or a stone statue lovingly adorned in knitted hat, sunglasses, or even once, a pair of headphones. At the mountain top the structures were nestled between giant rounded boulders and wind twisted evergreen trees. The place hosted a constant stream of humanity, coming to pray, coming to be thankful, or coming to draw breath at the top of the world. People carried cameras, water bottles, folded paper prayers, and tiny clay statues to be left as offerings or intentions. Not for the first time in my Japan visit, I marveled at the apparent social contract to protect and preserve public spaces. There is very little of the territory marking that so many Americans seem compelled to do. I did not see tagging, senseless damage, or strewn garbage. Instead, I was overcome by the countless small acts of beautification and intention. It would be a mistake to pretend I understand the complex workings of Japanese society, but my short time there left me with a sense of lightness. My spirit was bouyed to spend time in a culture that seems so profoundly aware of the notion of the collective, the opportunity to care for each other through self restraint and ownership of one's actions, and the incredible power of many.