Ikigai Spotlight Series: Hibiki Iha, Dancer and Choreographer from Okinawa
- Emma Launder
- Jun 30
- 9 min read
Updated: Jul 1
Movement is an Art
Ikigai is a concept that is very much integral to Japanese culture. The word 'Ikigai' can be roughly translated to your 'reason for being', or purpose and is not confined to the ‘Venn Diagram’. More on its authentic definition can be explored here.
While Ikigai is essential to one's well-being, the true beauty is that it does not have a fixed equation and can change over time.
At Mogami, we would like to highlight this nuance with our 'Ikigai Spotlight Series'.
This month's featured guest is Hibiki Iha, Dancer and Choreographer from Okinawa, Japan.
Could you start by telling us freely about your journey so far — in life and dance?
My name is Hibiki. I’m currently based in Tokyo, working as a dancer, but I was born and raised in Okinawa. I’d say the origins of my dance journey start back there. My mum loved Michael Jackson and EXILE (a Japanese boy band), so I grew up watching dance and really enjoying it from a young age.
That said, I was a super shy kid. I never imagined I’d be the one dancing. I wasn’t great at talking to people, including girls. Just the idea of it would make me nervous. But I was also lucky to be naturally athletic, probably thanks to my parents, and that became a big part of my identity. Being good at sports made you kind of a “hero” in school. I was shy, but I liked the attention. I guess I wanted to stand out. So all through school, I was obsessed with sports — athletics, soccer, tennis.
In high school, I got really serious about athletics and aimed to go pro. I planned to keep training at university, but then I suffered a major injury in my final year and had to give up that path. Around that time, I also felt a strong desire to leave Okinawa, so I ended up moving to Tokyo to attend Rikkyo University.
After moving, a friend invited me to check out a welcome event for one of the university’s dance circles. Watching it, I just thought, “Whoa, this is cool.” I’d always liked watching dance anyway, so I figured I’d give it a try. That was my first real encounter with dancing.
From there, I completely fell in love with it. I danced throughout all four years of university. Normally, people start job hunting around their third year, but I had this strong feeling that I didn’t want to stop dancing to do something else. So, without really realising it, I just started down the path of becoming a dancer.
How has your sense of "ikigai" — your reason for being — evolved over time?
Right now, my ikigai is definitely dance. But when I was around 18 and still in Okinawa, I’d say it was sports. So for me, whatever I’m most passionate about at the time becomes my ikigai.
If I’m being honest, I’ve always had a strong desire to be seen and recognised. It wasn’t so much about doing things for others — it was about feeling fulfilled and accomplished myself. It used to be athletics, now it’s dance. I’ve always had something that I can pour myself into.
But lately, things have shifted a bit. I’ve come to realise that dance isn’t something you can do completely alone. You need an audience. And when I dance with friends, the dance becomes for them, too. Even with video work, it’s for whoever is watching on the other side of the screen.
I used to dance purely for my own happiness. Now, I feel like it’s just as meaningful when I can share that feeling with others. These days, I’m in a position where I get to create with my peers or invite people I love and appreciate into projects. That gives me a new kind of joy, and I’ve started to feel like maybe I can use my ikigai for others, too.
I don’t need to say something grand like “I want to make everyone across the world happy.” But if I can make the people around me feel a little bit of happiness — that’s more than enough. And dance feels like a tool that might actually make that possible.
In what ways do your current lifestyle and work reflect your values and priorities?
For me, there’s really no clear line between “work” and “life.” Dance has become part of my every day. I think this is different for every dancer, but in my case, how my dancing is going directly impacts my mood. If I danced well that day, I feel like, “Yeah, today was a good day.” If things aren’t going well, it kind of colours everything else a little negatively.
That’s why I find it really hard to separate my personal life from my work. I’m not good at taking breaks either. Even on my days off, I’m thinking, “Maybe I should be working on choreography,” or “I should plan the next video project.” My mind is always running — even if my body’s not moving.
Growing up in rural Okinawa, I’ve realised that spending time in nature is something that helps keep me grounded. So when I have free time, I’ll go to a nearby park or bike out to the riverside in Futako-Tamagawa and just walk barefoot, doing nothing. Being in nature clears my head.
Lately, I’ve also started to think: maybe I don’t have to keep going full force all the time. It’s okay to take small steps — or even pause and stand still. I’ve been focusing on tiny daily actions, like “just 10 minutes of core training today.” It might seem small, but when I do it consistently, I can tell myself, “I did something today,” and that genuinely makes me happy. I’m trying to live at a pace that feels right for me.
Can you walk us through a time in your life when you felt lost? What ideas or tools helped you overcome this period?
Honestly, I’ve had a lot of moments of doubt — especially when it comes to dance and work. I’m always questioning things like, “Would this style be better?” or “Actually, maybe I prefer this direction.”
I’m naturally curious and not just about dance. Within dance, I love all kinds of genres: hip-hop, reggae, jazz, contemporary... So I haven’t locked into one particular style yet. That can be a positive thing, but it also causes internal conflict.
Even back in university, I struggled over whether to continue athletics or switch to dance. I chose dance in the end, but that decision didn’t come easily. Still, I think all those moments of indecision shaped who I am today.
That said, I’ve never once thought about quitting dance. There were definitely tough times — I was broke and working part-time jobs — I’d think “Full-time dancers spend 24/7 on dance, and I’m spending hours at a job that’s not even related.” I felt that the gap was widening, and I didn’t want to do things halfway. So I quit the part-time job and went all in. Of course, things didn’t change overnight, but that core belief — to never quit something I love — has carried me through.
I still compare myself to others and feel down sometimes, but comparison won’t change anything. I just have to keep moving forward, even slowly. I don’t believe that hard work always gets rewarded — but it’s never a waste. Because I’ve kept going, I’ve had opportunities I never imagined, and that’s something I’m really grateful for. I genuinely believe there’s still so much more ahead, and I’m excited about what’s to come.
What would be your advice to anyone struggling to live a life of Ikigai?
I’m really lucky in that I’ve never felt like I don’t know what my ikigai is. So maybe I can’t fully understand what that feels like. But I do believe that everyone has something they love — even if they don’t think they’re good at it, or they’ve convinced themselves it’s not worth pursuing. Sometimes we shut things down in our minds before we even try.
Whenever I start thinking like that, I try to let go of the logic and just say, “Even if this totally doesn’t work out, let’s just give it a go.” A lot of the time, the things we think we should quit are actually the things we secretly want to do.
So if I had to give advice, it would be this: If you’re even a little curious about something, jump in. You don’t need it to become your career or your life’s purpose. It’s okay if it doesn’t lead anywhere. Just the act of trying — that willingness to explore — is really powerful. And I think that’s what eventually can connect us to our ikigai anyway.
What does living as a dancer/choreographer mean to you?
What I feel strongly about my work is that dance is a form of expression. It’s art. Sure, there are competitive, sports-like aspects in contests and battles, but at its core, dance is about expressing something personal.
That’s why, in a way, it’s very self-indulgent. I dance for myself. I create for myself. But then, that thing I made for me somehow reached someone else. It moves them. It brings them joy. And on top of that, I get paid for it — and that’s such an incredible thing. I honestly believe there’s no better job in the world.
There are other professions that involve sharing your expression — like singers, videographers, and so on — and I think dancers are part of that same group. That’s why I want to put out work that feels true to me, without any pretences. Dance has the power to influence people, and because of that, I think the quality really matters. I want to keep pushing that standard.
More than anything, I want to fully commit to this path — as a dancer, as a choreographer — in my own way.
What does ikigai mean to you?
When I hear the word ikigai, dance is the first thing that comes to mind — but not because it’s always fun or easy. For me, dance is something that gives me both joy and struggle.
I don’t think something can truly feel like an ikigai unless it also comes with challenges. When you love something, there are always doubts, frustrations, and moments of uncertainty. That’s just part of it.
But it’s because I love it that I’m willing to go through the hard parts. And in return, it gives me so much joy and a deep sense of fulfilment. I think that only happens when you’re facing something seriously — when you’re really showing up for it.
Reflection by Emma Launder, Guest Contributor
Hibiki shows up in the world exactly as he is—creative, bold, and driven by his love for movement. For him, dance isn’t just a form of expression; it’s a way to connect, communicate, and share his energy with others.
His journey—from Okinawa to Tokyo, from athletics to dance—has been built on going all in and following what he’s passionate about. Along the way, he stays grounded by returning to nature —riversides, barefoot moments of stillness—and reminds himself that it’s okay to move slowly, to take things step by step, and sometimes, to simply stand still.
He reminds us that the things we love aren’t always easy—but they’re always worth chasing. And Hibiki doesn’t just say that. He lives it.
About Emma: Emma hails from the land of the rising sun and of the long white cloud (otherwise known as Japan and New Zealand). She’s often asked “Why?” and “What are we here for?”, and this has culminated in a deep desire to learn more about the big questions in life, especially surrounding purpose and ikigai. She’s currently based in Tokyo and works in PR and communications.
Reflection by Saori Okada, Mogami Founder
What moved me most in Hibiki’s interview was the way he spoke about movement as a way of expressing the inner world — and the courage it takes to let that expression be seen, to invite others into it.
I was especially struck by the part where he shared that he was incredibly shy growing up. It’s hard to believe when you watch him dance now — bold, expansive, expressive. I spent the afternoon watching some of his videos after reading the interview, and I found myself feeling the energy he carries through movement. It’s not just performance. It’s something felt.
His ikigai isn’t simply about doing what he loves — it’s about showing up fully for that love, even when it’s not easy. I appreciated his honesty in saying that ikigai comes with both joy and struggle. That resonated deeply. It’s easy to speak of purpose in light-filled terms, but he reminds us that it also includes doubt, frustration, and the quiet work of continuing anyway.
His words — “You don’t always have to keep running” — stayed with me. Whether we’re creating, building, or simply trying to keep up, it’s easy to feel like we’re never doing enough. But sometimes, the most powerful kind of movement is a pause. A breath. A small step that simply says, “I’m still here.”
Hibiki’s story reminded me that how we move matters just as much as that we move. And that expression, when it comes from a real place, has the power to connect — beyond words.
Do you want to learn more?
You can find out more about Hibiki Iha's work here
What did this story bring up for you? Comment below.
Comments