Order exists throughout everyday life. We wake up, wash, eat, and begin the day. Writing has a beginning, something that follows, and an ending. When there is a sequence, even something complicated becomes easier because we can see what to do first. But order does not exist only to restrict us. As the girl discovers while arranging the books, the right sequence can change according to our purpose. We can arrange things by size, by subject, or by the order in which we need them. What matters is not blindly following a sequence. It is understanding what the sequence is meant to help us do. Large tasks work the same way. We cannot do everything at once. We choose one first step. When that is finished, we move to the next. In this sense, 序 can be a path through complexity. When we do not know where to begin, we do not always need to solve everything at once. First, one thing. Then, the next. Perhaps order is simply a way of creating a path that allows us to move forward.

One autumn morning, a cool breeze came across the rice fields and reached the engawa. When the girl returned from the garden, Grandfather had spread a large sheet of paper across the table. Her older brother sat beside him. There were brushes, ink, several books, and a blank sheet of paper. “What are you doing?” “I’m preparing something to read at the village meeting.” “Then why don’t you write it?” Her brother laughed. “That’s what he’s getting ready to do.” But Grandfather did not pick up his brush. He opened one book, compared it with another, and made small notes. The girl waited. “Aren’t you going to write yet?” “Not yet.” “Why?” “I’m deciding what to say and in what order.” The girl tilted her head. “Why not just write whatever you want first?” Grandfather smiled. “What was the first thing you did this morning?” “I came to the garden!” “Before that?” “I ate breakfast.” “Before that?” “I washed my face.” “And before that?” She thought. “…I woke up.” “Exactly. Even a day has an order.” “But we can change the order, can’t we?” “Of course. Many things can be changed.” Grandfather began preparing the ink. “But when we want someone to understand something, choosing a good order can help.” Her brother pointed toward the paper. “First you tell them what the subject is. Then you explain it. Then you bring it together at the end.” “A beginning, a middle, and an end?” “That’s right.” At last, Grandfather lifted his brush. The first line appeared. Then the next. The girl watched quietly. Little by little, the blank paper became a piece of writing. “Does having an order make writing easier?” “It helps the writer,” Grandfather said, “and it can help the reader understand too.” The girl thought about this. Then she picked up several books lying at the edge of the table. She began arranging them from smallest to largest. One. Two. Three. “Is that an order too?” her brother asked. “Yes.” But halfway through, she put the largest book in the middle. “Now they aren’t in size order.” “This one has pretty pictures, so it goes here.” Her brother laughed. Grandfather laughed too. “Order isn’t only something that ties us down,” he said. “Then what is it for?” “It can help us understand things and help us begin.” The girl looked at the books. She could arrange everything however she wished. Or she could follow a fixed rule. But if she knew what she wanted to do, she could choose an order that helped her do it. She looked again at Grandfather’s writing. The first line led to the next. And beyond it waited the part that had not yet been written. Things have beginnings, things that follow, and things that come after. To the girl, an order began to look like a small path leading forward.

Collecting this kanji brings these jukugo closer ✨