cherry blossoms: therapeutic

So, after my trying day, and feeling anxious and frustrated...I rode the train home tonight...and to my left and to my right...where the cherry blossoms. My first sighting! And lanterns lit at the base of the trees. My anxiety and stress immediately melted away. My heart was lighter. It was a lovely moment. To see the famous white flowers illuminated by a soft light. And to see small vendors selling japanese treats under the trees. I was reminded that everyday is new. And with every night comes a strange sort of healing and peace. And perhaps with everyday comes a new blessing. For me, this blessing was clothed in cherry blossoms. Perhaps, most blessings come in disquise. And, when we look up...there it is. To our surprise. Something that encourages us, inspires us or just sustains us for the day.

I can hardly wait to run my hands along the trees and to see them up close.

"how long until my soul gets it right..."

So, lately I would call myself a procrastinator. I have been setting goals for myself, telling myself a deadline...and then, it all falls by the wayside. As I am getting ready to come home for a visit in the next few weeks, there are things that I just can't ignore. Like working out re-entering the country when I come back to Japan, and transfering money etc. And, last week my bike was taken from outside the train station...so I must identify and colllect it at an office a few stations away. Argh. Sounds like identifying a dead body or something.

None of these things I want to do. But, I must do them. Argh.

Yesterday, I watched a movie during the day, and then decided I must make my way to the bank in the afternoon, think I would have enough time. Yeah. It was closed. So, my deadline for transfering money is out the window. Argh.

Today, I thought I would really make an effort to get these things accomplished. AFter getting off at 2pm from work, I make my way to the city ward office in hopes of getting a re-entry permit - so I can come back into the Japan. I arrived to a busy office, and many line ups. I stopped by the information desk, and I asked them about getting a re-entry permit...so, they not only pointed me in the right direction, but they took me where I needed to go. I waited for about 30 minutes (its ok. i don't mind waiting so much), and proceed to the counter...in which they told me a need to go to the immigration office- on other end of the city! Argh. I minded this.

What I don't understand about Japan sometimes is that they seem to hand you off to another person...you then wait...for another person..you wait again...for yet another person to tell you, you are in the wrong place. Argh.

So, by this time, its around 3:30, so I make my way to the immigration office - 2 trains to get there. And, I take what I thought was the right exit...and underestimating the number of exits there actually were. I go in the direction of what I thought was north for about 10 minutes. I stop in at a hotel, and ask the front desk (in japanese, I might add)...and basically find out I have been walking in the wrong direction. So, I quickly make my way in the right direction. I turn, at what I thought was the right corner, and somehow find myself in a seniors home! I asked once again where the office is, and they give me what seems like better directions. I walk 10 more minutes and find what I think is the immigration office. A big tall building with the word passport written on it.Then, I soon discover that this is not infact the immigration office. Of course its not. That would just be too easy wouldn't it. Argh.

I head back out onto the street...stop for a quick cold latte...soon regrettting this decision.

I FINALLY make it to the immigration office. And after talking the elevator to a series of 3 wrong floors, I come to where I need to be...its 4:15pm.

And I am greeted by a sign saying "CLOSED"

Argh.

Argh.

ARGH!

By this time, I had broken a sweat. I threw out my half empty cold coffee in the garbage, and sadly make my way back to the station...today was not a good day in Japan. As I sit with my alcoholic drink beside me...I contemplate...why is it the things you think will take a short time, end up taking 3 times as long, and the things you think will be difficult end up being simple and brainless.

Argh. And again I say...argh!

"this is our cry. this is our prayer. to build peace in the world"

I have now had a few days, to collect myself, to pick up the pieces of my experience at Hiroshima city.

---

As I approached the A-Bomb Dome, once getting of the street car, the feeling that came over me...perhaps I will never be able to articulate this to anyone. Or even make sense of my own thoughts. To know that the Peace Park, in which this monument is situated, was once complete devistation from the atomic bomb, one can only hope or pray to come to turms with this. At times, I felt myself closing my eyes wondering if this was really standing before me.

"As a historical witness that conveys the tragedy of suffering the first atomic bomb in human history as a symbol that vows to faithfully seek the abolition of nuclear weapons and everlasting world peace. Genbaku Dome (former Hiroshima Prefectures Industrial Promotion Hall), was added to the World Heritage List in accordance with the "Convention Concerning the Protection of World Cultural and Natral Heritage." December 7, 1996, Hiroshima City.

The chill of seeing this sight, and the strange loudness of peace that filled the air, will always be in my mind. To have fallen in the shadow of such a monument, as the sun shone the day I visited the Peace Park...this memory, will never leave me. To know that a single, man made object, dropped from 600m in the air, wiped out basically everything within a 3km radius, and claimed 200 000 lives...its hard to even imagine such an event, when you step onto the grounds of the now Peace Park. Both devistation and peace now existing together.

Walking along the banks of the river, with the Dome in my view, I came to the Childrens Peace Monument. It still sends chills down my spine recalling what I saw. On the top of this peculiar shaped monument was the statue of Sadako (100o paper crane story), as she lifts a single crane entrusted with dreams for a peaceful future. And behind it, are colour upon colour of uncountable paper cranes. Sent from all around the world. I felt myself wondering...is this a dream. Am I really here? I saw a child and mother who came to pray underneath this structure and to ring the bell of peace, in hopes of a world without bombings or war.

Walking to the Peace Museum, later in the afternoon, listening to perhaps most haunting stories of the effects of the a-bomb over 60 years ago. Stories of children having lost their hair from the radiation; human skin being burned from a 3km radious of the hypocentre; hearing of a mother who caresses her son's head and his hair coming out in clumps; seeing the tattered clothing of young boys and girls; an old stop watch that reads 8:15- the exact time of the bombing; reading about a mother recieving her dead daughters bag and hat on her front door 3 days after the incident; viewing an old, tarnished, burnt bicycle of a three year old boy who was killed instantly from the bomb; a photograph of a woman who's kimono pattern was burned right onto her skin; photos of children wandering the streets with burnt skin and no family; bent, iron shutters from an old department store, as a result of the intense heat; seeing shards of glass in a stone wall; viewing a large panoramic photograph of the Hiroshima a few days after the bombing...everything in ashes...I could go on.

As I walked back out to the centre of the peace park, I somehow saw it differently now. I wept. Maybe for what I saw. Maybe for what I was feeling. Maybe for what I was thinking. Finally having to sit down. I looked up, saw the sun, and realized that hope and peace are what remains in this place. I remember reading a quote in the museum that said no plants were expected to grow after such an incident, but just a short time after the bombing, a small flower emerged out of the ground. Hiroshima is a lovely, majestic city, having now been rebuilt and is dedicated to promoting peace around the world.

As the sun set in Hiroshima, and I made my way back to the station to go back to Osaka that evening, I had no words. I was glad to be alone with my thoughts and my journal. I did leave Hiroshima with sadness, but with so much hope as well. I haven't been keeping track of my calender all that much, but Easter is soon approaching. A season that I see differently now. Where there is death, so there will also be new life. And this is what will remain: faith, hope and love.

While the greatest of these is love, Hiroshima has taught me hope.

thoughts on miyajima island

Miyajima. Little did I know about this island, just on the other side of Hiroshima.

I finally went further outside Osaka. For an overnight trip. Taking the Shinkansen, one of the fast bullet trains in Japan. With nothing but my backpack, my camera, and an open mind. It was clear last Tuesday morning as I arrived after 1.5 hrs on the train, and arrived in Hiroshima station. Once finding my hotel, and having a latte (my most favoritest things in Japan actually), I hopped onto the local train to the port of Miyajima. Once getting on the ferry, I had no idea what exactly I would be seeing. I was greeted by the bluest of oceans, and the bluest of skies, and Miyijima island approaching me, and the floating red torii in the water.

I instantly was captured by the beauty and intimacy of this island. Although seemingly huge, this island's feel is one of intimacy. To many mountainside shrines and pagodas to count, small japanese streets, old shops, traditional stores, monks walking in wooden shoes, and the smell of insense burning in the air. This island was mine for the taking. Endless walking paths, always encountering something new. I was even surprised by a mountain top open air cafe, with an entire view of the ocean and the red torii. As I sipped my green tea, a nacked on my japanase sweet, and wrote in my journal, felt the sun on my face and gazed out into the distance, I felt a glimpse of something that was beyond me.

Later in the afternoon, as the tide went out, hundreds of people gather around the torii, in the mud, to collect clams from the sand.

Having walked most of the day, I managed to catch the sunset on Miyajima. Lets see if I can set the scene for you: As I sat on the shores of the island, in between 2 mountains infront of me, the sun was slowly setting between these mountains. The sky turning various shades of pink and red. All of this taking place with the torii in the foreground.

As I was walking back to port to catch the evening ferry, I kept turning around to make sure that this was all still happening before my eyes. The setting sun, the ocean air, and the torii. Perhaps I will never have another day like this one.

images etched in my mind: hiroshima.

I thought I might be able to find the words for what I saw today...for now, I'm just going to leave you with these. Because these are on my mind. Words are not, at the moment. I just need a few days, or perhaps the rest of my life, to process the impact of visiting the A-Bomb Dome in the city of Hiroshima. I have images of dispair, devistation, hope and faith etched in my mind from today...

can you hear the sound of your own voice?

This afternoon, I had an interesting conversation with a student.

This particular student, we will call him Yoshi, thought it was time that we just close our text book and have free conversation today. I like Yoshi for this reason. Whenever I see him on my schedule for the day, I instantly feel my day has become more worth while. He is always quick to speak and ask teachers about their interests and their lives. Today, told me more about about his life, his work, his family and how he feels about all these things. The thing I love the most about my job is that I get to ask people as many questions as I can, and help them to express themselves in a way that is meaningful and useful.

Tom was especially curious today about intonation, or how we use our voice to communicate meaning. Tom has been getting frustrated lately because he feels he lacks english grammer and that he is affraid that he speaks like a child. I assured him that, if anything, he could probably teach me a thing or two about english grammer. I then told him that often, when we lack the words to say, we can use our tone of voice to gloss over our mistakes or shortcomings. I'm just realizing now what a profond thing this actually might be. How our tone can actually speak for us.

There is power in the way we use our voices, I think. Have you ever stopped to listen to yourself talk? Have you ever thought about what you sound like? I think doing this job has made me realize how much my job sometimes is not really about teaching english at all. Because, lets be honest, when we all learn something new, I've heard that we actually only really remember about 30% of the actual content of a persons speech. What I do know is this...any teacher that I had in university, I probably won't be able to recall the exact words they said, but I will always remember their tone of voice in my head. Because this is what resonates. There is meaning attached to the words. If I can be an affirming and encouraging voice to my students, then maybe this is all that matters.

Today, when talking with Yoshi, I felt like I somehow became alive in my speech. Learning that its not only our voice that we speak with, but its our tone, our eyes, our head, our body. These are almost the things that really speak for us. This is what people hear, so to speak. I don't know...still hashing out these ideas. Just something I felt I need to remember for myself, I guess.

"...and i'll follow you into the dark."

Walking through the Gojo area at night, up a small street lit with lanterns, the sound of singing children in the distance...these all made for a magical night. Kiyomizu Dera is perhaps one of the most famous places to visit in Kyoto. If not Japan. It has been known for surviving various earthquakes, and it is actually a candidate for one of the Seven Wonders of the World!

I happened to visit on the occasion of the Hanotouro festival. During the next two weeks at the temple grounds, visitors can walk around at night to view the lit up structure and the lanterns that light up the trees and walkways that line the temple. This temple is nestled on the side of a mountain, and as I approached the red gates, I couldn't help but feel I was made for this moment. Light seemed to bring out every detail of the pagodas and the blemishes in the wood of the platforms. I turned around to be greeted by an entire view of the city sky line at night.

I looked into the distance and saw a smaller pagoda lit up, also surround by lanterns, and bare trees anxiously awaiting to be clothed in cherry blossoms.

My friend Bill and I walked around on the creaky wood floors of one part, where various people were bowing before a small buddha. I think the light at night here will always be something that is etched in my mind as a memory of Japan. So much so, that I get goosebumps as I sit here writing this. At every corner, we saw something new. Something I had never seen before. I wish that I could be present at ever moment. Hoping not to forget any details.

We then proceeded into Teapot Lane, various stores and such with japanese pottery, parisals, tea and sweets. While we were chilled to the bone, we were stopped by a store man who was offering us some green tea, and we sat by a small heater to enjoy our japanese sweets. After warming ourselves, we disovered there were more side streets to be strolled down. All lined with lanterns. We took our time, studying the old homes, the stoney streets, and the stary skies above.

I feel like Kyoto always makes me yearn for something I never had. It always seems to make a heavy impression everytime I visit there. Especially at night. Magic it is. And a little bit of mystery as well.

"..from the colors of fall to the fragrance of spring..." - japanese plum blossoms

this is just the beginning of the blossoming season in japan. click on these pictures to see enlarged version. i can't believe these are merely a small taste of what the blossoms will look like in a couple weeks. i have heard that the trees are literally drooping with blossoms come late March. the cherry blossom season is so big here that the news actually has a "cherry blossom forecast" - for optimal viewing times! a student was telling me, one day, about these blossoms and how beautiful they are, and he actually started to weep a little. i love the japanese. and i love japan for this reason. although these are plum blossoms, "ume" as my students are telling me, i hope it gives you an idea of just the sheer beauty of this lovely flower.

contemplating the possibility of hiroshima

I wanted to quote you something that inspired me today. I was reading my trusty companion, Lonely Planet Japan, today while on the way to work. I'm trying to decide a place I want to go in the next couple weeks, after pay day. Hiroshima during cherry blossom season is said to be one of the most beautiful in Japan. Not to mention having the chance to witness all the compelling and emotional history there. Among the many things to see in Hiroshima, you can visit the Childrens Peace Memorial. I got goosebumps when reading this today. I wanted to share it with you:

"The Childrens Peace Memorial is inspired by leukaemia victim Sadoko. When Sadoko developed leukaemia at 10 years of age she decided to fold 1000 paper cranes - an ancient Japanese custom through which is it believed that a persons wishes will come true. The crane is the symbol of longevity and happiness in Japan and she was convinced that if she could achieve that target she would recover. She died before reaching her goal, but her classmates folded the rest. The story inspired a nationwide bout of paper crane folding, which continues to this day. Strings of paper cranes from all over the Japan are kept on display around the memorial." I guess thousands of these paper cranes are sent annually in memory of Sadoko.

I remember hearing this story of Sadoko in my 3rd grade class at Robert Rundle School. Mrs. Gogo (as we called here) was my teacher. Perhaps one of the best. I always remember her bright clothing and expensive purfume. And who could forget her distunquishable personality. I remember she organized an entire unit on the country of Japan for our 3rd grade class. We did flower arranging, made paper carps, folded cranes, tried chopsticks and even attempted caligraphy. Funny that I still remember it to this day. I don't think elementary school teachers realize what an impact they actually have on their students. Because Mrs. G's class was one of the most memorable grades for me. I remember she had a japanese dinner for our class one day, but myself and another girl couldn't make it. I ended up being sick. Mrs. G, without hesitation, then took me and this girl out for Chinese (close to Japanese, anyways) food the following week! Just the three of us! She is one of those teachers who is always in the back of my mind. She made ever student feel special. I felt special.

Funny, when ever I hear the story of 1000 paper cranes mentioned, I seem to get a chill. Never in my life did I think that I would actually have the possibility of going to visit there. Maybe Mrs. Gogo somehow planted a seed somewhere in my mind, way back in the day.

I get such a beautiful image in my head when I think of 1000 paper cranes. I think Hiroshima may be calling my name.

To Mrs. Gogo, my third grade teacher - I still hope you are teaching. This is for you.

art in the great unknown...

Why do we believe the lies the world tells us about ourselves? Most of these lies come from people we have never met, people we never will meet, people who we are desperately seeking approval from, and from people who have much too a big opinion about themselves. Why do we care so much?

I have noticed something in myself, since living here now for over 6 months. Anniversary day today, actually. I think I have a heathier opinion of myself. I can't believe I actually wrote this. Outloud. Considering, I came to this unknown country, by myself, into a great great unknown, releasing control on all that was familiar. Its amazing to me, how any experience of the unfamiliar can really bring us onto new ground with ourselves. You know what I mean? We confront things we don't want to confront, we see things we don't want to see...and yet...we see things that we never even dreamed we would see. The good things. The things we never knew existed. Or never even thought of embracing.

Its like looking at a painting up close. You knew it was beautiful, because you have had it on your wall your whole life. Until one day, you take time to look at the strokes, the texture, the colours. You press your nose to the painting...slowly backing away, and you realize all the work the artist went to, to create the piece. Maybe, for you, its not even a painting, but a photograph or a piece of music, that somehow speaks to you.

In a couple days, Japan celebrates what they call "Girls Day." (Momo no Sekku, Hina no Sekku, or Hina Matsuri). Families with young daughters celebrate to ensure their daughters' happiness in later life (and sometimes simply to express a general "yay, we have a daughter and are proud of her" sentiment); part of the festival involves a set of ceremonial dolls which the family will display in the best room in the house for a few days . The festival also used to mark the "official" start of spring.

Do any of us know how truely beautiful we are? Will we ever know how truely beautiful we are? We are works of art. The other day, I was walking down a very popular street in Kyoto, Gion Street, known for Geisha sitings. The streets are lined with traditional tea houses, sushi stores, and romantically lit restraunts. Sure enough, later in the evening, while walking in the rain, I saw a Geisha - a women wearing the white makeup, red lips, hair tightly wrapped with flowers, and the most beautiful kimono. Dispite the rain, she elegantly walked, grasping the end of her kimono and holding her red parisal. I had goosebumps. This is the very first time I had seen this in Japan. In real life. She was literally breathtaking. I did a double take. I could believe that I was actually seeing what all the travel and history books speak about. a geisha. Sigh...

Perhaps this is the kind of beauty that God created each of us with. The double take, goosebump, breathtaking kind. I see this in so many of you. As I sit here with tears in my eyes, I am reminded how each of you are of such a gift to me. You are a painting. Today, I will paint you all in my mind.

you are art, to me.

dedicated to: you know who you are.