Anne Thomas

Even though the initial intensity of the March 11 disaster has subsided, many people still feel a deep tugging to help Japanese disaster victims. Since that subtle pull is strong and persistent, people are finding very creative ways to bring hope and healing to this part of the world.

Three efforts in particular have found their way to me. The first is an offer by a caring individual and his family. The second is an Australian concern called Wishes on Wings. And the third is an American project named 500 Frogs.   Read more...

Although my main job is in a university, I also teach privately. My favorite of those lessons is an advanced English class for adults. I have been teaching them for many years, so we have become good friends. Since they are well educated and talkative, I always try to introduce topics that will enable them to think deeply and to express themselves freely.

Recently I found the following story by Pema Chödrön in a lovely magazine called Fellowship in Prayer. It is a clear, seemingly simple tale about life as seen from a Buddhist perspective. I added questions (in red), which the students were to discuss one by one as they worked their way through the story. I was curious to hear their thoughts because this piece was written by an American Buddhist for a western audience. And sure enough, I learned a lot from my class the day we studied this tale.   Read more...

My friend Imai Sensei is a Baptist preacher who runs a homeless center here in Sendai. He has been helping victims of the recent earthquake and tsunami. He is my hero through and through. Recently he asked me to edit an article he was sending out to his friends in various countries. He gave me permission to share it here. It gives a very vivid picture of what has been going on here and his very admirable work for those severely affected by the recent disasters.   Read more...

The other day my friend Junko came rushing into my apartment. She was all excited and said, “Listen to what happened to me. I just went to get a massage. You know how much trouble I have been having ever since I started washing all those jars and cans after the tsunami. I have had to do that sort of hard work for my company for about a month now and it is awful! And my body is a real mess. When I was there getting a massage, they put glass ball suction cups on me to try and get the blood moving in certain very painful parts of my body. But when they did that, the whole area because grossly purple. The purple part is normal but mine was almost black it was so purple. Sasaki Sensei went to get ‘Papa’ (the boss) to ask for his advice.”   Read more...

I am very fortunate in that work had not yet begun whilst I was involved in the significant task of moving, so I could give myself over fully to that enjoyable, but demanding task of evolving this place into a home. Actually, I realized I had never really done this before. At least not in this way. I have moved often, but each time I resettled, I was given hand-me-down furniture and furnishings. So my homes have been hodgepodge at best, very dumpy at worst. But this time the rumbling, jerking earth did an amazing amount of damage to my furniture; or maybe everything was so old that one piece after another succumbed to its own inner rot and pre-earthquake brokenness. Whichever, I find I have had to refurbish my home with new things this time. Mostly shelves, lots of them. But also a table and a chair, and various other odds and ends that hold a home together. This process of thinking about what would make pleasant living space and going out to find it has been an interesting involvement and observation for me.   Read more...

It has been well over a month since I have been in touch. Much has happened in that time, both in Japan and in my personal life. Of course, the world’s attention has mostly sifted away from the disasters here, but even so, there is a lot still going on. This country has been slowly and steadily getting back on her feet. Progress is uneven, but it is happening everywhere. Extremely devastated areas are still struggling with clean up and rebuilding, but much effort has been made to get Sendai proper functioning as normally as possible. We still have ongoing daily earthquakes, huge cracks in the roads, shattered buildings and walls, and protective blue mats everywhere, but reconstruction work is evident wherever you look. Supermarkets are open normal hours now and are well stocked, although some items are still unavailable or rationed. Almost everyone is intensely focused on remaking their lives. Those who were seriously hit have had to start almost from scratch, but even those who suffered little physical loss are trying to reassess their attitudes, values, and ways of being in the world.   Read more...

I thought my last letter would be my final one until after my move. But some people have asked me to kindly keep up these epistles. So since I will be off line for about a month starting Sunday, I realized I should get one more out before then. And very fortunately a friend sent me an email, which expresses how many of us are feeling these days.

Steve and I used to work in the same university in Sendai. It was called Shokei. He hoped for full-time employment there, but the administration had other ideas. It was planning on eliminating the English Department completely, so not only would Steve not get a position, but I would soon lose my job there, too.   Read more...

Last night Izumi came home and told us frogs were all over the road below her mother’s house. They usually appear in the heat of summer and croak they joyous songs all night. But there they were in mid-April and on a rather cool night at that. "The world is all confused now," said Izumi. "I think another big quake will soon come. I remember seeing snakes come out of their holes when I was a child and soon after we had a big quake. Maybe the animals know sooner than we do."   Read more...

Recently I have been writing a lot, using words to put a circumference around my experiences here in tsunami-damaged Japan. In doing so, I realize how much words do create the world we choose to live in. Just as the Talmud says, “We do not see the world as it is, but as we are.” And thanks to writing my perceptions and feeling of these days in Japan, I have learned that we live in the world we create in our hearts, no matter what events are happening in the outer world.   Read more...

I thought my most recent letter would be one of the last. But I am finding that writing my impressions and feelings allows me to put small frames around the enormity of life now. A story here, an image there, a sign of hope and courage elsewhere. All those teeny pieces, when held together, allow a crucial sense of equilibrium. Things seemed to be getting settled more or less, but then the second major quake arrived a few days ago, stirring everything up once again. Part of me would like this to stop. Others feel the same. There are signs around town now saying, "We have had enough, please stop shaking, Mother Earth." Or "How much longer?" But those queries are next to ones saying, "Gambatte Sendai," "We believe in you, Japan," or "Our combined inner strength will see us through this."   Read more...

The following letter was written before last night’s strong earthquake. But even so, much of it still applies. Last night’s quake was very forceful. We either dove under tables or braced ourselves in door frames until the major trembling had ceased. The shaking continued on much longer, and tremors are still with us, as are non-stop sirens of ambulances and police cars. Yet, this quake was within "normal limits" for a strong one. Plus it did not last long. And the tsunami afterwards was "manageable." Even so, it did cause more damage. Walls are falling a bit more predominately, cracks are a lot wider, houses sway more easily. After the major quake of March we were told to expect another forceful one within a month. And sure enough, just shy of four weeks, this one came along. The last of this cycle? I doubt it. But hopefully the next ones will not be as strong, will bring less havoc.   Read more...

“The world is one”. It seems that is becoming more and more true these days. Everywhere. And during this time in Sendai, I see it very clearly on so many levels. First of all, everyone here, and all over the country in differing degrees, is still feeling very shaken by the events that are still evolving here day by day. Actually this uneasy feeling is happening worldwide, too, as people continue to hear news of the nuclear power plant’s ongoing problems.

But there are other more subtle ways in which “one world” is being felt. This region of Japan has predominately farmers and fishermen. In order to make ends meet, many folks started small businesses. So this area had many small factories dotted across the landscape. In fact, many large companies in Tokyo used those enterprises to make parts for machinery or other necessary goods. It was convenient for everyone since the small towns had easy access to train lines or ports, making it efficient to get things to Tokyo without problems.   Read more...

Many people overseas keep asking me about the nuclear situation here. In these letters I have not been addressing that issue for several reasons. One is that the international press seems to be mainly focused on that problem, so people are surfeited with that news. Also the situation changes by the minute, so it is hard to keep pace with the latest developments. But more deeply, I have not dealt with that intensely emotional topic because my purpose in writing these letters is a bit different. I wish to show the beautiful dignity of the Japanese people through these traumatic times. For me this experience is on the level of the soul and of the heart. And despite the worldwide concern and fears over the nuclear spillage, I wish to consistently focus on the inner strength and courage that are being manifested all around me and that might not be presented in regular coverage.   Read more...

Last night we watched the Emperor and Empress visit an evacuation shelter. This way of expressing care is a first ever for the royal family. As I mentioned in a previous letter, by long tradition they live in a world apart from the rest of us. Their public appearances, and their existence itself, are symbolic of a Cosmic order that manifests in perfect precision and harmony. Happily this far-reaching tragedy is allowing them to open their hearts and to express their concern on a very human level.

In the shelter, the Emperor actually squatted down to be on the same level as the evacuees. He also looked at them directly as he spoke to them. His gracious wife stood, but bowed down very low in order to talk closely and warmly to the people there. She extended her hand and held those of others in hers. That sort of behavior is unprecedented here. And it was indeed very symbolic, but on an entirely different dimension than the usual meaning of the royal family’s behavior. It brought so much hope and encouragement to everyone who experienced it in actually and who watched in on TV.   Read more...

My friend Izumi is a remarkable person. She naturally embodies values that I wish I could incorporate in my own attitude and being. Because of what she is and does, I find it a real privilege to be able to spend this personal "evacuation time" at her mother’s home, where she also is staying. Her husband works in the neighboring prefecture, Yamagata, and because of the gasoline shortage, comes here on weekends only. This is an unsettling period for everyone, so her mother is glad not to be alone. Therefore, both of us taking up lodging at her home works out well for all of us.   Read more...

Yesterday I went with a former student to volunteer at Imai Sensei’s program for the homeless and evacuees. It had snowed the night before, so it was cold and very windy. But everyone arrived at the park on time. We were there to serve food and hand out clothing. For the homeless this has been an ongoing haven for several years, but for the evacuees it is still something rather new.

Since this program has been going on for a while, the people involved were very organized. Homeless men had been congregating for hours before a small truck arrived filled with supplies. Each man had a special task assigned to him, so the process of unloading the truck, putting down big blue mats, sorting used and donated clothes, and preparing the food tables went surprisingly smoothly. In fact, it ran like clockwork.   Read more...

Today marks two weeks since the great quake and tsunami. We still are shaking. In fact, just before I began this letter, I had to run out of my home because it rumbled and rattled too much for comfort. But even so, somehow it seems as if a shift has begun. Intensity is being replaced by resolution, along with the long hard work of both grieving and rebuilding our lives.

Since the highly concentrated stress of the past two weeks is slowly dissipating, these letters will probably become fewer as I, too, move into the next phase of my life: looking for a new home and then moving into it. Today I began that search. Old houses now, which have the most “kokoro” (heart, feeling) are too dangerous to live in now, and not worth repairing to make them safe. Rent on a new house would be much too expensive for me. So, do I consider an apartment? Would I be able to shift into that more restricted kind of mentality? Could my heart still sing if I lived in a box?   Read more...

Today was very bright and sunny. The winds were high, which somehow made it be a perfect March day. It snowed a bit, too, adding to the dramatic flavor of this new season. Also a few plum trees in sheltered areas were bravely shivering their pink blossoms, giving us promise of greater beauty ahead.

Yesterday was a rather nose-to-nose-with-this-reality sort of day. The water pipe to my shack finally gave way completely after days of slowly seeping water. My yard was a lake and then piles of mud and men, lucky to be found when other places are in much greater need, trampled through trying to stop the flood and repair the plumbing. They did just enough to keep me going until I find a place and can finally set up a new home. This shack has been my heart and haven for the past 15 years. Hard to say good-bye, but it is indeed time to move on. Not only from here physically, but also to another dimension of my inner life. It is time for change on so many levels.   Read more...

All of the letters I have sent so far have been my own. Recently I received the following email from a former student, who is now an adult and friend. She give things from a Japanese perspective, so I would like to share her words with you. She gave me permission to do this and told me she was grateful if she might be able to help foreigners understand the Japanese mind a bit better. I am sending her letter exactly as she wrote it to me.   Read more...

This morning on TV we watched a baby being born. The mother was an evacuee in a shelter, but miraculously had been able to get to a hospital when labor began. It was so joyous to watch this teeny girl emerging into the world and to hear her first loud, healthy wail. The camera shifted from the infant to the smiling face of the nurse and on the rather stunned, but please expression of the father. Life goes on. And everywhere there are efforts to remind us of that reality, even in these times of great disaster and tragedy.

Signs of hope continue to flood in from all sides. Today an 80 year-old woman and her 16 year-old grandson were dug out of the rubble of their home, nine days after the tsumani hit. They had been trapped in their kitchen, so were able to survive on the bit of food they could squeeze out of their refrigerator.   Read more...

First I would like to thank all of your for your kind emails to me. I appreciate them very much. It gives me a lot of energy and courage knowing there is so much love and support. I would also like to thank all of you who want to send me things, such as food or batteries, warm clothes or blankets. I myself am fine. I have only lost my home. Everything in it is intact. I have everything I need, thanks to Izumi and her wonderful family. We are eating less than normal, but we are eating twice a day, sometimes more. So, please do not worry about me.

If you want to help, please consider donating to the Japanese Red Cross. They are doing an outstanding job, stretched to the limit, but soldiering on. The same can be said of the army, the police, firefighters, volunteer doctors from all over the country and abroad, and of course, average citizens. This intense focus on a single purpose is getting things done. Slowly, but things are moving forward day-by-day.   Read more...

Last night the moon was full and very bright. Temple bells echoed through this city at 9:00 p.m. sharp, just as they always do. Saturday was the spring equinox. For Japanese people the spring and autumn equinox are times when the divide between “the other side” and here is a bit thinner. So, ancestors’ spirits come very close to earth to bless the living and to be blessed by them. This year is a particularly poignant time for such a crossover between worlds because of so many who have recently lost their physical lives.   Read more...

Another day has passed in northeast Japan. It was sunny and the wind was strong. It was also warmer. So people’s spirits were better. We are learning from direct experience how many gifts we have given to us constantly: sunshine, air, water. And now in many places electricity, although gas for cooking will take about another month, or so they say. We have heard that some gas stations are open for a few hours a day. The lines waiting to get a few liters begin at 8:00 p.m. The stations open at 10:00 a.m. the following day. But now there is a bit of gasoline available. And that is so very hopeful.   Read more...

This letter is different from others I have been sending recently. It is more about me than about the remarkable Japanese people. Please forgive this side tracking and indulgence.

Yesterday I was given the chance to leave Sendai via buses arranged by the USA government for American citizens. I was told about this option well past midnight and the bus was to leave across town from where I was at around 9:00 a.m. If I went, I would be allowed one bag. I would be taken by bus to Narita Airport, where literally thousands of frantic foreigners were struggling to leave the country. From there I would be sent to a nearby Asian country and then left to fend for myself. I would be charged for the bus fare from Sendai to Narita later.   Read more...

I am writing this as I make the decision whether to leave Sendai or not. I have just heard that a bus will be available to evacuate American citizens from Sendai tomorrow morning. I have not yet made up my mind what I will do. I have been in this city for twenty-two years. My life is here.

Earlier this evening I wrote the following essay about my experiences during the day.   Read more...

Once again I want to write to you about what is happening here. The TV news is frightening beyond belief. In fact, this entire phenomenon seems totally surreal. Beyond the edges of one’s wildest imagination. But I continue picking through the rubble of this experience to find flickers of hope and powerful experiences of beauty.   Read more...

Things here in Sendai have been rather surreal. But I am very blessed to have wonderful friends who are helping me a lot. Since my shack is even more worthy of that name, I am now staying at a friend's home. We share supplies like water, food and a kerosene heater. We sleep lined up in one room, eat by candlelight, share stories. It is warm, friendly, and beautiful.

During the day we help each other clean up the mess in our homes. People sit in their cars, looking at news on their navigation screens, or line up to get drinking water when a source is open. If someone has water running in their home, they put out a sign so people can come to fill up their jugs and buckets.   Read more...

Beautiful people doing beautiful things. Not necessarily with a lot of funds, but surely with tremendous idealism and dreams. Those are the kinds of people Ode is all about.

Here is another such person with great dreams. These are very down to earth: toilets in Laos.   Read more...

Japan has wonderful festivals throughout the year. Some are huge and world renown. Others are so small only locals attend. But no matter the size, all of them are filled with great enthusiasm and merrymaking as people give their all to make these events memorable.

February is a challenging month in northeastern Japan. Winter still has its pernicious hold on the weather and spirits. Yet, ever so subtly there are hints of change. Days are longer; and temperatures can be a bit higher. This tension between the fierce grip of the old and the nudging of the new is a perfect time for "Oni" (Japanese naughty spirits, not fully evil and rather dumb) to emerge out of hiding, approach human settlements, and gleefully raise havoc. Since "Oni" can cause so much damage, something must be done. And what better way to push them back, deep into the mountains, than by holding a festival?   Read more...

Sendai, where I live in Japan, has quite a good music scene. There are many choral groups, jazz ensembles, pop music revenues, classical music concerts, and traditional Japanese music performances. All these are supported and highly respected.

Let me give a few examples. I will start with young people. They love music. Most often it is an easy avenue for them to join with like-minded people and fully express themselves outside the usual binds of this very controlled society. At night they set up impromptu music groups in parks or on street corners. And in class students eagerly learn English through songs. Of course, karaoke is an integral part of life here, too, not only for the young. Likewise, it is not uncommon to hear people in the city humming or singing to themselves as they ride their bicycles or walk along the street.   Read more...

In the culture I grew up in compliments came naturally and abundantly. If someone looked nice, we told them so. If clothes were attractive, we let people know. If someone bought a new car or house, we all sang our praises. That sort of positive, encouraging behavior was part of the fabric of everyday life. And of course, the person receiving the praise felt good, too. Not in an egotistical way - usually. Rather, the positive feeling enhanced self-esteem and interpersonal relationships for everyone involved.

As my world expanded beyond my childhood environment, however, I soon learned that giving and receiving compliments could be a bit more complicated than the purity of intention I was accustomed to.   Read more...

As I watch the many fundamental changes sweeping the world, I find that the young people I teach are either completely taken up with them, or pretty overwhelmed. And I have found among my university students that most often their focus on change lies in the material. Cell phones are like their mother’s tits; fashion creates a sense of identity; music provides a means to wail out feelings; club activities allow for a bonding experience between friends; and part-time jobs provide a temporary structure and training within the context of society at large.

Everyone is very busy, of course, but among my students who are 18 to 20 years old, many have dreams, but not enough focus or drive to work towards them. Or they aspire for a job in an established arena, mostly in an airline, a beauty parlor, a shop or a bank. But with the bad economy and the end of lifetime employment here, many have no career hopes, so tend to live from one pleasure to another.   Read more...

The other night I had the privilege of attending a party of Middle Easterners. It was a farewell get-together for an Iranian friend. He and his wife were heading to the U.S. to work at a university. Of course, everyone was happy for them, so the merrymaking was lively and fun.

I spoke to everyone there (of course). One was doing research on the brain and aging, another was majoring in physics, another was involved in communication technology, and yet another was concerned about the influence of Russia on its surrounding countries. The students - all of them were in doctoral or post-doctoral programs - were intelligent, interesting, enthusiastic and a joy to talk to.   Read more...

Ode is about (extra)ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Alice Herz-Sommer is one such person. At 107 years old she is the oldest living survivor of a Nazi concentration camp. Despite the many tragedies of her past, Alice’s positive, loving, music-filled attitude is uplifting in every way. Although she is not on the cutting edge of new creations, she graciously manifests things eternal. Therefore, she speaks to all of us, within and beyond time. In fact, she speaks for eternity.   Read more...

The environmental crisis is indeed alarming, but it is also an opportunity to bring visualization skills, teamwork, and creativity to the fore. In Japan rubbish bins for paper, plastic bottles and tin cans are ubiquitously lined up in front of supermarkets, convenience stores and in train stations. For household trash every week there are days for burnable rubbish, days for plastics and days for bottles, glass and cans. Twice a year there are "Big Garbage Days," which means large amounts of newspapers, cardboard boxes, and old clothes are collected. But you can buy special stickers anytime and have someone from the city come to collect more bulky items that need discarding. And there are private trucks that go round collecting paper and large throwaways, too. Recycling is an integral part of everyday life here.

Now many of the police uniforms and furoshiki (cloth folded and tied as a carry bag: a very old tradition) are now made from recycled plastic bottles. Buses go by with signs proudly saying that they are run on salad oil. In buildings main windows face east to catch the warmth of the rising sun. And traditionally only one room of a home was, and often still is, heated in winter.   Read more...

Igarashi Asayo San (Mrs. Asayo Igarashi, in English) is an 82-year-old widow. She wears kimonos everyday and spends a lot of time attending to them. I first heard about Igarashi San from one of my adult students, who is a speech therapist. Igarashi San had a stroke about 10 years ago, and even now gets weekly speech training, although her other therapy has stopped.

"Igarashi San is really a super grandma," my students said. "She has stories to tell and is an amazing woman." So of course, I wanted to meet her.   Read more...

My friend Izumi loves machines. She has about six watches, three or four cameras, several TVs, two computers, a mobile phone, and a Ka-Nabi. A "Ka-Nabi," for those of you who do not know, is Jap-lish (Japanese-English) for "car navigator."

Izumi is constantly playing with her many gadgets. And she feels very connected to the world because of them. "Oh, Anne, you should try this. Look at what it can do!" she always says to me, looking deeply concerned that I am so dysfunctional when it comes to machines.   Read more...

The Bartlett Pear Inn in Easton, Maryland is a rather posh place. It is in a large brick house that was built over 200 years ago. The outside is impressive and emits an aura of history, wealth, and sophistication. Yet, surprisingly the current owners are young. They are a husband and wife team, both in their early thirties.

Jordan Lloyd and his wife Alice both grew up in Easton. “We used to ride by this building on our bicycles when we were kids,” Jordan told me. “We loved it, but never, ever dreamed we could ever own a place like this. It was completely out of our circumference at that time.”   Read more...

Several years ago some friends and I went to a small town north of where I live. We wanted to see the old "kura" that had been converted into shops. "Kura" are thick-walled store houses once used for important family items. They usually held kimonos, documents, and other family treasures. They are magnificent in their own right, so are often converted into use for modern times. And sure enough, we were delighted to discover how tastefully the renovations had been executed in that small rural town. The goods for sale inside were equally impressive. We started on the free food samples and ended up buying gifts of all sorts: pickles and sweets, jams and jellies, cakes and sticky rice balls.

From there we wandered our way through the antiques. I was in awe over the well-polished wooden chests called "tansu," the long-stemmed tobacco pipes (The likes of which my friend’s grandmother had used), porcelain dolls, and exquisite kimonos.   Read more...

Iku has been my student for several years. Her open mind and curiosity about other cultures have always impressed me. She sincerely wants to know how other people live, think and behave. And there is always helpfulness there, too. I readily see that in her gentle eagerness to assist other class members as we all stumble along through our lessons.

Once someone told me Iku assisted foreigners living in her town. Knowing that, I became more interested in her and wanted to learn more. That is when I asked her for an interview. “What! So much attention on me!” she said in embarrassed astonishment. But with a shy smile she agreed.   Read more...

Ono Muneo San is an old tailor. I used to live in his neighborhood and whenever I passed his home, I would see him crouched over his sewing machine, head down, fully focused on the detailed task before him. Occasionally I would pop in and ask him to make a blouse or a jacket for me. I was always impressed by the precision of his work and wore any outfit made by him with great pride.

Eventually I moved away and seldom ventured back to that vast labyrinth of winding streets, teeny houses, and lovingly tended gardens. Then last year a friend gave me one of her mother’s old kimonos. “Here, take this,” she said. “Your shack must be freezing in winter. Maybe this will help keep you warm. It is not a good kimono, just an everyday one, so it will suit your purposes perfectly.”   Read more...

Last year my best friend here, Ichinohe, died. He was young, 57, but had spent a horrendous year wresting with and finally succumbing to cancer. Following Buddhist tradition and Japanese law, his body was cremated within twenty-four hours of his demise. But unlike most families, his opted to wait for the funeral. Even the type of memorial service was unusual, but chosen by my friend himself.

Long before he had become ill, he and I had talked about death in general, and our own individual deaths in particular. We also discussed what to do with our ashes after cremation. Even though I love the peace and beauty of graveyards here and spend many a Sunday afternoon strolling through a tree-filled one near my home, I do not want to be remembered in that way. Rather, I would prefer to have my ashes scattered over rice paddies. The Japanese earth is deep and long; it carries the history and souls of this ancient land. I want to surrender to that profundity and rock there for eternity. I would like those paddies with my ashes to be at the foot of a mountain. Japanese mountains form a majestic necklace that adorns this country with ongoing seasonal splendor. So, of course, I wish to be near them now and when I step out of this physical existence.   Read more...

Recently a friend sent a generic e-mail to her many acquaintances. She was wondering if any of us might read a book that a friend of hers had written. She wanted to see what we thought, of course, and also if we might introduce it to a wider audience. I love to learn about other people and their take on the world, so readily agreed.

Fransje de Waard, the author, has studied both ecological science and transpersonal psychology. In her own words she explained to me what ecological science meant: “My sense of the value of that study would be more an ecological understanding of things, and this, to me, is akin to understanding the mind - the inner landscape. So you could even say 'life sciences'.”   Read more...

One of the many delights of Japan is how the modern and traditional coexist. Sometimes smoothly, most often surprisingly, but coexist they indeed do.

I get a chuckle when I see a really tough guy whip out a folding hand fan and flutteringly cool himself down. And what a jolt I get when I see a pretty young lass in a gorgeous kimono sitting on a stool with her legs crossed, using her mobile phone, and chewing gum. I also get a real kick out of seeing priests in full clerical robe perched before computers in Internet cafes, Zen-absorbed by images flashing on the screen. I often see Kyudo (Japanese archery) student carrying their long bow cases on subways, buses or trains. Usually they are in traditional garb, too, so are obviously on their way to a lesson.   Read more...

I grew up during the Cold War. And much to my shame, that meant I knew next to nothing about the vast nation now called Russia. The stories I heard about the then Soviet Union were all government propaganda, so my understanding was distorted, fear-filled, and negative.

Yet now as I grow into my later years, I find myself wanting to go back and retrieve parts of my self that were left incomplete or dismissed. One way of doing that is my tendency to blend outer journeys with ceaseless emotional adjustments and inner explorations.   Read more...

The longer I live, the more I appreciate the profound wonder of the Yin/Yang exchange of energy. Initially I interpreted it solely as obvious contrasts needing each other to manifest: hot needs cold, light needs darkness, male needs female, and vice versa, for example. That perspective still holds, of course. Yet as I continue living and looking, I see a myriad of dancing opposites everywhere and on every dimension.   Read more...

Taniguchi Akira Sensei is an oceanographer. He was born in central Hokkaido, the most northern of Japan’s four main islands. Taniguchi Sensei never saw the sea before age eleven. But his hometown was near the Hokkaido zoo, so the call of the wild was implanted early and deeply into his soul.

He had many other interesting childhood memories, too. He remembered the Ainu Bear Ceremonies in autumn. At that time bears were still sacrificed to pray for protection and good hunting. Now that practice has become illegal. But the power of those ceremonies still remains as a poignant memory for him.   Read more...

Japanese culture and way of thought are in many ways quite special. And when other outlooks come in contact with things Japanese, some interesting and sometimes amusing results can emerge.

Here, for example, it is considered extremely insensitive and impolite to praise yourself or those connected to you. Personal identity is far more than one’s ego and being. It includes all those connected to you, whether that be family, colleagues, schoolmates, or club members. Here in Asia the fundamental awareness is, “You are, therefore I am.” In fact, the character for “person” consists of two slanting lines, one resting on the other, making a sort of upside down “Y”. This is a small everyday reminder that a person is not an isolated individual, but rather part of a larger network. You are because of all those who hold you up and support you. A true culture of dependence.   Read more...

The Japanese are famous for their board games. And an adult student of mine is an avid Go player. He joins games several times a week, and has become so skilled at it that he has become an instructor.

I hunger to learn all I can about different cultures, particularly the one I am in. So, when he invited me to one of his Go classes, of course I went.

That particular group consisted of older folks, who had the time to take their hobby seriously. A few members would come in, concentrate intensely as they played a game or two, and leave. Then others would arrive. This went on all day. This relaxed, friendly atmosphere was as important, or more so, than the games themselves.   Read more...

Fire engines with their bright colors, whining sirens, rush and roar always seem to captivate a corner in everyone’s psyche. The entire heightened experience lends a sense of danger, of thrill, and of reassurance that there are folks brave enough to protect the most vulnerable in times of extreme emergency.

In Japan with its wooden houses and open-flame heaters, along with the reality of earthquakes, fires are a looming possibility at anytime. People live with a subtle, almost unconscious sense of insecurity. So, every evening, fire trucks periodically clang through the neighborhoods, providing a sense of vigilance and safety. Because they are so needed, firefighters are very highly respected in this sensitive archipelago. And every year in January, there is a day set aside to honor the fire departments and all those who serve in them.   Read more...

Mrs. Yoshiko Kato was a nurse. And she was for almost fifty years. All in mental health.

“When I first started, having psychiatric problems was considered shameful. So, people hid any relatives – or themselves – if they had difficulties. Now things are really different. It’s more open. And also there are many more facilities. It’s so much better now than it was in the past,” reminisced Mrs. Kato.   Read more...

I first met Umetsu Toshiro San (the word order of his name is Japanese. That is, with the family name first. “San” is a polite form of address) when he worked for a local TV company as an interviewer. His warmth and sensitive eyes, plus his gentleness endeared him to me immediately. I was soon to learn that Umetsu San’s history extended far wider and deeper then the context in which I had met him.

In fact, for years he was a war correspondent, covering such bitterly ravaged areas as Afghanistan, Pakistan, then Yugoslavia, and Iraq. He also went to various countries in Africa. And on less dangerous assignments, he found himself in South America. “I’ve been to South America over twenty times,” he said. “I speak very little Spanish, but I know how to communicate. I’ve been doing it all over the world.”   Read more...

Japanese bread, at least where I live, cannot really be called bread. It is made with bleached white flour and is so airy and fluffy that it has no substance at all. It reminds me of the Wonder Bread I grew up with in Father-Knows-Best America way back when.

However, despite the bleached white flour base, there are hundreds of imaginative inventions that go with the label of “bread” here. An old standard is “melon bread,” which is mildly chartreuse green and has granulated sugar on top. There is also “corn bread.” Here that means a white, feathery, bodiless roll with kernels of corn sprinkled sparsely throughout. Many of these “bread” concoctions are fried, greasy affairs, which often have ham, sausage, or cheese in chunks either on top or in the middle. There are also doughy croissants and thick purple or pink spheres, depending on the flavor, that try to pass for bagels.   Read more...

There is a small hamlet in Northeastern Japan called Kaminojiri. That translates as the “Upper Field’s Rear End.” The neighboring town is called Shimonojiri, which means the “Lower Field’s Rear End.” Everyone laughs at those unusual names, but even so the inhabitants are very proud of their settlements.

Kaminojiri has a few streets lined with old wooden houses, now mostly covered in tin to protect them from winters’ challenges and typhoons’ ragings. One street does have newer houses, though. That is where “the younger folks” live. Or so I was told.   Read more...

The first time I met Sawano Motohiro Sensei (1) I was deeply impressed by his gentle nature and open mind. We met in a rather unusual way, so let me explain.

Early in the day I had been introduced to a young American exchange student, Evan. He was a jazz major, but also loved Japanese. So, he came to Japan to learn the language. As we chatted that day, I realized his real love was music. So, I told him I would like to hear him play. As luck would have it, we were near a Kawai Music shop. My new friend had the brilliant idea of going there and pretending to buy a piano. That way he could perform using the very best instruments they had.   Read more...

Recently a friend told me about his best friend, Igari Yuji Sensei. (1) He told me how special his friend was. When I asked why, he told me he would send me his YouTube channel.

It turns out that Igari Sensei is a music therapist. He has his own business called The Igari Music Therapy Research Center. He works with people who have developmental disabilities. He does this in several dimensions. One is via individual and group sessions or lessons. The other is through a big band. The big band has both non-disabled and disabled persons, creating a smooth blending of worlds.   Read more...

I have a Dutch brother named Willem. In America he goes by Bill. He went to the USA with the American Field Service (AFS) and lived with my family for a year. He fit in perfectly in every way. For example, age-wise he was a bit older than my siblings and me. His English was excellent. Plus his open mind and friendly personality won him popularity wherever he went. He and my father got along particularly well. My father appreciated the intellectual discussions that went on well into the night, spilling over into weekends and other times off. Bill called him “Daddy”, feeling that was truly American.

At age eighteen Bill had no idea what he wanted to become. But he carefully observed my father and his father before him, my grandfather. Both were country doctors. Both adored their profession and devoted their entire lives to it. My grandfather lived between my home and Bill’s high school. So, often en route home in the afternoon Bill would stop by to say hello and end up staying for dinner. At those times, too, he listened and learned about the life of a general practitioner.

Bill returned to The Netherlands after a marvelous year in the States. He suffered terrific reverse culture shock. So much so that his Dutch parents summoned his American parents to The Netherlands to discuss what to do with this very unsettled young man. After an all night discussion, with the American side emphasizing that they did not want to take Willem-Bill away from his Dutch parents, they all agreed that the best course of action would be for Willem-Bill to complete his studies in The Netherlands and then he himself could choose where he wanted to live.

Life unfolded naturally. Willem entered university and decided to become a doctor, not surprisingly. “Daddy had more influence on my life than anyone else I have ever known. That is true not only of his profession, but also of the way he devoted his entire life to his patients and his commitments. Because of him I have become who I am today.” Then he added that had he not known Daddy, he probably would not have become a doctor. Being as open minded as he is, if the circumstances had been different, his life’s direction would probably have taken a different path. But once he made up his mind, he did not waver. And now forty-five years later, he has absolutely no regrets about his choice.

Willem’s specialty is neonatal care. He selected that field for several reasons. Towards the end of his medical education he worked as an assistant in an intensive care unit. He treated people of all ages, but was particularly touched by the babies struggling for life. At that time neonatal care was in its infancy (!) in The Netherlands. So he knew he would be in a wide-open field offering tremendous potential for learning and growth.

Along with focusing on his career, Willem married and had two children, thankfully both healthy. He said that the blend of neonatal care and having his own offspring enabled him to be a better father and a more compassionate and understanding doctor. However, for Willem his profession was the center of his life. “Nowadays”, he told me, “many doctors work fewer hours to spend more time with their families. But back then we did not do that. If there is one regret in my life, it is that I did not spend enough time with my family. But we have a good relationship. And now that I have stopped clinical work, I have more time to be with my wife. And for my kids we, their parents, are their best friends.”

Willem served over thirty-five years doing clinical work. That was in the Children’s Hospital in Rotterdam and the Neonatal Department of the general hospital in Zwolle.

“The work was challenging, exciting, fun. Working with the team of doctors, nurses, social workers, and parents was very rewarding. I had such a good time. Everyone worked together, trying so hard to make the best decisions for the babies and their parents. The first ten years in the field felt like a playground. It was new, exciting, thrilling. We were relatively independent. And at that time anything we did was better than nothing. That allowed a tremendous sense of purpose in my work.

“Now the situation is changing, however. Medicine has become more of a science and less of an art. Hospitals are becoming more focused on the business aspect. There is more organizational responsibility, a greater demand for efficiency. It’s not the same. Also as I aged, I felt I was losing my grip. I felt I would lose the adrenalin high that carried me through the early years. I feared losing my sharpness, making mistakes. So at age sixty-three, I stopped clinical practice.

“But that does not mean I have stopped working. Far from it! I plan never to retire. I can’t imagine myself not working. My work is such an integral part of my life and of who I am. In fact, I am now part of a research project at Utrecht University Medical Center in the Department of Neonatal Care. I have a small part in a large project. My focus is on oxygen supply to the brain in newborn babies.”

Willem also loves teaching. And he still does it. Since he is a senior in his department, he is often asked for advice. And also to his delight, he has taught over half of the neo-natalogists in the Utrecht University Medical Department. Since the field is so small, Willem is known all over the country. And in 2008 he was awarded a prize from the Dutch Society of Pediatricians for his years of devoted service.

“My job is from the heart. Almost everyday my team and I dealt with tremendous moral issues. Larger even than life and death, our concerns were about the quality of life for the babies and their parents in our care. Wrestling with these issues, working together with the team, watching the vulnerability of premature or very ill infants, dealing with the very heart of what matters most in life, all these things were the core of my work. Not many people have that privilege. But I have, and I am truly blessed.”

Now Willem’s work takes him to other countries, too. Recently he has gone to Russia several times to give advice on their budding neonatal care. He lectures and goes to conferences in the USA and in other parts of Europe. So, Willem is still very much involved in the cutting edge of his field.

“But I am not all work!” he adds with a smile. “I have hobbies, too. I love mechanics. So I am fascinated by old cars and trains. Someday I want to take the Siberian Express from one end to the other. I am also concerned about the environment, especially from the angle of how the problems will affect future generations.

“I like being involved. I want to enjoy life and to continue contributing as much as I can until the day I die. Life has so much to offer. And there is always so much work to do, so many ways I can be of service to others.”

And after forty-five years Bill’s relationship with his American father is still as strong as ever. He calls often, visits when he can. “Daddy is still the man I look up to in a very special way.”

In fact, when Willem wrote his thesis in medical school, he dedicated it like this:

To my Dutch parents, who started my way,
To my wife, who accompanies me along the way,
And to my American daddy, who showed me which way

Recently I came across a very interesting article. It was about forgiveness. I always wrestle with that virtue, sometimes more poignantly than others. I often find it very challenging to forgive, especially if I feel I have been deeply betrayed or wounded. But for me it can be equally as difficult, or more so, to humble myself enough to ask for forgiveness when I have hurt another, intentionally or unintentionally.   Read more...

Ode's mission is very inspiring for me. I love the idea of news that uplifts. And I am equally taken by the vast beauty of ordinary people living extraordinary lives. Ever since my first brush with Ode, I have felt my world expanding, precisely because my eyes and heart are opening wider and more deeply to recognize the awesome task of being human.

And of course, as my self opens inwardly, people and events come to me outwardly. So, I am living the privilege of discovery, one human being at a time.   Read more...

Eun Sunyoung¹ is a dancer. She comes from South Korea, but she lives in Japan now. She has been here for twenty-one years and plans on staying longer. She has a lot of work to do here.

I first saw Eun Sunyoung when she was dancing at an open-air performance. Her movements, along with the music, were slow, dramatic and deeply haunting. I knew then that I wanted to learn more about her and the mysterious world her dancing evoked.   Read more...

Many people these days keep referring to the Mayan predictions for the year 2012. It promises a spiritual shift in the world’s energy fields, changing our universe and consciousness for the better and forever.

A friend sent me these sites about these year-2012 predictions. They are stunningly beautiful, so I wish to share them with a larger audience.   Read more...

The subtly of Japanese behavior can be very complex. A quick glance or the hint of a frown can be pregnant with meaning. But much of that is often lost to those not brought up here. Japanese laughter, too, is one of the ongoing mysteries of this fascinating culture. What outsider can know for sure what a Japanese smile or laugh really means?   Read more...

Often when my students hand write a paper, they confuse "h" and "n", "d" and "a", or "l" and "e" because of not paying attention to the differing length (of one line) between the two letters. They always act surprised when I point out this error. And sure enough the next time they inevitably make the same mistake. I have almost given up on "l" and "r" differences, knowing my own inability to distinguish short and long vowels in Japanese.

Once after a long and trying day I was thinking about the stresses at work and also wondering what I could do about my chronic dry-eye problem. My poor eyes are constantly irritated and red. I use drops and creams and go to a doctor for treatment, but am always looking for better relief in some way. Winter is a nightmare with the dry heating systems; and summer is not much better with its allergy-causing grasses and flowers. In other words, I am in year-round discomfort.   Read more...

I have a friend who loves mountains. I do, too. So, sometimes I contact him and ask when we can go hiking. Since he knows almost every mountain in Northeastern Japan, I leave it up to him where we will go.

The other day we had a plan for a hike, but since it was raining we ended up going for a long drive instead. Of course, we headed directly for the mountains, which this time meant Yamagata Prefecture.   Read more...

Sometimes when you meet a seemingly ordinary person, you sense they have a story to tell. Masanobu Abe is that kind of person. He is quiet, but deep. A student, but not young. He studies massage at night and works in a massage clinic during the day. He is obviously a very busy, motivated man.

There are from three to five people who work in the same clinic. Most are young and are students. Some have already graduated. Masanobu stands out because he is a good ten years older than the others. Here in Japan it is very unusual for someone his age, 37, especially a man, to be starting a new field. Although it is changing a bit, usually people here are locked into a particular job track long before their late thirties.   Read more...

Several years ago when I first came to Japan, I took an Ikebana class from an older woman named Senoue Sensei. She had studied English in the school where I was working at the time, but had found verbs and grammar too tedious to learn. Needless to say, she soon quit.

However, she had a very keen interest in foreigners, so in order to be in touch with them, she started giving Ikebana lessons. “Flowers are universal. They speak to everyone the world over. So, my medium for international communication is through these magnificent creations of nature,” she said.   Read more...

In my childhood home, we had two items that my mother put on display every spring. They were a pair of trees. The stems were made of twisted silver fibers, while the blossoms were of transparent pink glass. The light shimmering through those weeping branches created an aura of mystery and magical beauty. My mother explained they came from far away Japan, which made them all the more special for us small-town children in that era before Internet and easy world travel.

Years later, I ended up living in that Far Eastern culture, whose seeds had been planted in my psyche at such an early age. And every spring when I see the gracious weeping cherries here, I remember my family’s lovely glass trees.   Read more...

Several years ago, I wrote about my friend Ichinohe, the healer. Since that essay appeared, my beloved friend has gone through many profound changes. One time, when I went for a massage, he said, “I know my body very well. There is something wrong with me. I must go for a check-up.” And sure enough, that investigation revealed a beautiful, perfectly formed spiral pattern of teeny cells spread out across the lining of his intestines. Cancer. When he told me about it, he said, “The doctor was amazed. He had never seen anything like it. And indeed, it was magnificent. It looked like the galaxies. It formed a perfect, balanced arrangement.”

I personally felt that orderliness came from Ichinohe’s years of meditation and deep spiritual attunement. But why cancer? Why something so lethal for someone who had devoted his life to healing others?   Read more...

Jin Aizawa is a very jolly man. He has short trimmed hair and a bright smile. His energy pops. He never walks, rather he dashes, always with a purpose to please. Jin is the third-generation owner of a noodle shop. His grandparents began this family enterprise in 1927. At that time it consisted of a box on the side of the main shopping street. They would whip up noodle dishes to passers-by who wanted a quick pick-me-up on their day in town. His grandfather died before his grandmother, but she loved her customers and her shop, so she kept the place open on her own. She was successful, so in 1957, she was able to buy the building behind her small stall. That enabled her to expand her business considerably.

The shop’s name is “Sen”, which was his grandmother’s name. I asked about the Chinese character for “Sen”, but Jin told me that in those days women’s names did not use Chinese characters. They used either the hiragana or katakana phonetic scripts. So, even to this day, the restaurant’s name, “Sen,” is in hiragana.   Read more...

I heard Father Pierce before I met him. He has a loud ooogaaah horn that bays out his presence as he coasts down country lanes or town streets. He also has a deep, uninhibited belly laugh that shudders happily out of him. That laugh always brings a startled response to all in earshot. He himself cuts a commanding presence with his abundant beard and imaginative attire, replete with wide suspenders. Why hide in the shadows when there is a message to proclaim? And part of that message comes through the man himself, through actions as much as words.

Nathaniel Pierce is an Episcopal priest in a rural area of Maryland, USA. However, he did not start out wanting to be in the clergy. “When I was in high school,” he explained, “it was post Sputnik and the push was towards science. It was seen as the be-all-end-all.”

Yutaka Miyazaki is a special person. He is a doctor in a small town in northern Japan. Even though his home life is rural, his heart is as wide as the earth, and his heart is as deep as compassion will allow.

Dr. M could have opened his own clinic and served his community’s colds, flus, hay fevers, and general ailments, as many with his training do here. But instead of following that conventional route, Dr. M decided to devote his life to promoting the welfare of people who are physically and mentally challenged.   Read more...

There is an interesting medical company here in Japan. It is called Fujiyaki, which means Fuji Medicines. It was started after World War II by a man named Mr. Takayanagi. He realized that many people still were undernourished after the near starvation levels they had to maintain during the war. He knew they desperately needed vitamins and minerals. He also realized transport was minimal at best, especially in the rural areas. Of course, poor transportation added to the problem of proper nutrition. But he was a man of ingenuity. So, for him the difficult situation was a challenge that he eagerly embraced.

He collected a few people to help him and sent them out into the surrounding areas on foot. They carried their supplies on their backs and went from town to town, village to village, farm house to farm house selling their wares. All the ingredients were natural and affordable. At that time, they all came from Japan.   Read more...

All throughout Japanese history, and up until recently, most people here lived in flimsy wooden houses that were packed closely together. Small fires were used for heating and cooking. Times have changed, of course, but even now most homes have kerosene heaters, which allow one room at a time to glow with precious warmth. The other rooms remain icy cold. In fact, in the region where I live most people sleep with no heat. In this day and age that is quite remarkable considering how cold Japan becomes in winter.

Since Japan is a country that trembles readily with frequent earthquakes, this heating arrangement of kerosene heaters is extremely dangerous. To keep vigilant watch, small fire trucks roam the streets on a regular basis, clanging their reassuring bell as they pass.   Read more...

Recently I went hiking with three other people. When we were at the summit, one of the men, whom I had just met that day, mentioned his grandson. This child was born very prematurely, weighing 690 grams at birth. He was in an incubator for months and even now, over a year later, he breathes with tubes up his nose because his lungs are too weak and underdeveloped to support him. Even though this youngster is not yet able to walk, he is growing, is alert, and seems quite bright.

“I’m waiting for the day when my grandson will be well enough and old enough to go hiking with me. I want to share with him the important things of life, the things I love.”   Read more...

Going to the bank can be tedious anywhere. But when you are in a foreign country with limited language skills, it can be very challenging indeed. Despite having lived here for years, I am ashamed to say that my Japanese feebly stumbles along. I can shop and get about, talk to doctors and converse on the phone if the vocabulary is simple and the pronunciation clear. I can even manage interviews for odemagazine.com. My grammar is atrocious, but I can get my ideas across. Mostly. When it comes to precision and technical terms, I am in deep water, barely able to stay afloat. Such is a constant challenge, but a great chance to stretch beyond my current limits.

Periodically I send money overseas. When I travel, I make friends. And I often end up helping send kids to school, assisting with medical expenses, or even sponsoring small business ventures. I am delighted to do this within my humble means. But the process of getting funds from here to there can be a true test of patience. There are millions of forms, of course, with specific ways to be completed. Inevitably I make mistakes, so often have to redo everything from the beginning. Several times. The poor man helping me is a saint, explaining and re-explaining, pointing and re-pointing how I must give information. But my brain does not fit into precise little boxes. So, the entire process can take hours.   Read more...

Lynne and I met many years ago. We taught in the same language school in Indonesia. Our desks were next to each other’s in the teachers’ room, so it was easy for us to become good friends. In fact, it was a joy going to work and having long yarns with her between lessons.

Living overseas is always challenging. And the ins and outs and complexity of Southeast Asia were tough for many of us middle class westerners. Plus soon after Lynne arrived in Indonesia, there was a huge devaluation of the rupia. So after only one year, Lynne and her then spouse, Ed, returned to Japan, where they had previously worked. I, on the other hand, stayed on for quite a while longer. However, Lynne and I remained friends and always kept in touch.   Read more...

One aspect of everyday Japanese culture that has always fascinated me is how the folks here seem to have a built in sense of trust that life will take care of them. I first noticed this by observing how people cross the street. When the green walk sign lights up, without even looking to either side, people step off the curb and head confidently into the road. Pedestrians know that drivers have a responsibility to keep them safe, so they proceed without a care in the world.

When I think of the many experiences I have had in other parts of the world, where cars fly around corners at top speed, the drivers only concerned with getting to their destinations and having no concern whatsoever for anyone else, I am doubly amazed by the utter trust of pedestrians here and by the caution and courtesy of Japanese drivers.   Read more...

Poverty is such a pregnant term. Probably the first image that comes to mind is physical. We can so easily visualize people alive, but virtually skeletons. Sadly, thousands today are burdened with malnutrition and the anguish of not knowing where their next meal will come from. In the mind’s eye it is easy to envisage beggars, shantytowns, inner city slums, and refugee camps. Associated with those come images of crime, violence, and danger. In fact, who anywhere can say they live in safety?

But there are other less apparent dimensions of poverty, too. Emotional, for example. How many people live in the abyss of emotional starvation? How many cover up their echoing hollowness with excessive drug use, selfish sex, constant stimulus, violence, or greedy relationships? How many live in the grip of existential loneliness and despair?   Read more...

Whenever I read the articles sent into www.odemagazine.com, I am always struck by several things. The first, of course, is the hopefulness. Also there is creativity and imagination. The focus is not on greed or grabbing, but rather on openness, generosity, and trust. Plus the diversity of expressions, projects, and happenings are very titillating. And like icing on the cake, there is often a touch of humor and fun, too. Just the fact that so many souls from so many backgrounds and outlooks contribute is very exciting indeed.

The prism of perspectives, creativity, and hope-filled endeavors are magnificent, but there is a deeper dimension, too. And that is an underlying theme or pattern that holds them all together. That unifying principle might be compared to a white light that bursts forth into a spectrum of many colors, or the reverse, where the many return to their common source, the light. From the Buddhist perspective it could be seen as the integral relationship between emptiness and form.   Read more...

Steve and I met on a subway. He was sitting across from me and looked just like my childhood playmate grown up. So when he got off, I followed him and started a conversation. It turned out Steve and I were kindred spirits: both loving to travel, both open to adventures, both consciously trying to learn and grow, both wandering souls, if you will.

Despite our twenty-year age difference, we got along well, so I did some wheeling and dealing to get him a part-time job at my college. That way we could meet several times a week and talk to our hearts’ content. Of course, our friendship deepened.   Read more...

When I was in my early twenties, Simon and Garfunkel were immensely popular. We would play their tunes night and day, and revel in the idea of being part of the culture they, and others like them, were ushering into the world. One song in particular that stuck like glue was “A Bridge Over Troubled Waters”. It is still with me. Round and round and round it has played in my head and heart over these many years.

* * * * *   Read more...

Sasaya is a small rural village in Northeastern Japan. It consists of one street with houses on both sides. Behind these long narrow homes runs a river, which considerately divides itself to flow on both sides of the street. The water is crisp and cool, coming straight off the mountain. Locals use it as is for drinking and cooking. And since it never freezes, despite the rugged winters in that area, it is appreciatively used year round.

Behind this small fast-flowing river are huge vegetable patches bursting with summer produce that bring tomatoes and cucumbers, onions and squash, daikon and potatoes to the family table. Since the one and only supermarket is a long drive away, homegrown food is a fact of life, as it has been for centuries.   Read more...

In Asia the Goddess of Mercy and Compassion is an integral part of daily life. Most often she is called Kwan-Yin in China, Avalokitesvara in India, or Kannon in Japanese, but there are other names as well. Sometimes, too, this divine being takes on masculine expression. But no matter the form, this beloved entity always shows deep, unconditional love for all manifestations of life.

She comes in many images, the most captivating of which has a halo of 1000 arms fanning out from around her body. This multitude of appendages makes a perfect circle of all embracing Love radiating out from the Heart center of the divine. No one or nothing is ever left out, no matter how imperfect they may be.   Read more...

Do you know the difference between a harper and a harpist? How about a fiddler and a violinist? If you did not know before, you have probably figured it out already. A harper and fiddler play traditional tunes, whereas a harpist and violinist play orchestral music.

Such interesting tidbits I learn from my friend Markio, who is an Irish harper. She is only in her early 30’s, but is finding herself in a budding career that she never dreamed of.   Read more...

For the most part Japanese people are focused on new things. They are hooked by the latest gadgets, the most recent conveniences, up-to-the-minute fashions, modernized homes, and the newest model cars. The latest. The best. Image. Identity.

On rare occasions, however, I get to meet someone outside that focused desire for material newness. The other day I was invited to a young couple’s home in the country. The husband, Ken, grew up in Tokyo. He was always fascinated by Spain, so after high school headed there for a stint to learn about life and himself. About other cultures, too. And in the process how to cook Iberian dishes. Later he returned to Japan and worked in various offices, even for a local government. But his heart was always in the countryside. He had loved animals and the out-of-doors since he was a child. And the longer he worked in offices, the more he longed for the country.   Read more...

Japan has a reputation of holding women back. But women here have a way of holding their own. Despite their demure manners and deferring behavior, they can be astonishingly strong. For the most part they are hardworking, unafraid of making decisions and of sticking by them. Also most often they will be enthusiastically contributing members of any group they belong to. “We do our best in whatever we are called upon to do,” they will tell you.

Many strong, focused women of ambition choose to start their own enterprises, rather than be trapped in the often limiting, ritual-strangling, demeaning jobs that a regular company has to offer. One such person, Miyoko, is a perfect example. She started low, observed, learned, held onto her dream, and worked her way up to where she is now, the owner of a fine study-abroad company.   Read more...

Ted has been my friend for well over thirty years. But curiously, I have never met him. I get a very gentle magazine called “Fellowship in Prayer”, and once long ago they asked if subscribers would like to correspond with prisoners. Of course, I said yes. And that is how Ted and I got connected.

I have never asked my friend what he did to land himself in prison. I felt it was not important unless he wanted to tell me. He never has. And I respect his privacy and dignity in this matter. So, Ted and I relate on more hope-filled dimensions than the mistakes of the past.   Read more...

This is the final section of this series honoring my father. The reason I chose to write about him in the first place was because many of the values he espoused might do well being reinstated. They could possibly blend happily into today’s world, which in many ways is seeking a new identity and connection to its emerging soul.   Read more...

Another touching story that shows my father

My father, an old fashion country doctor, used to make house calls to farms near our town. On days when we kids were not in school, we were allowed to accompany him. Farms are terrific places for youngsters to wear off excess energy. So, we would run and play in the fields, peer at animals in the barn, scramble up haystacks, climb fences, and swim in the creeks. We city kids rode cows and rubbed horses

Even though Ode