a gentle and sweet reminder...

Tonight I was reminded of something.

I was at Shoppers Drug Mart developing the last of my Japan pictures. I was at the counter for nearly an hour, pouring over the last few months of memories. The people, the places and sights and sounds of the country I had grown to love. I have to admit, I was feeling sad and happy all at the same time. My time in Japan was spent not only teaching english, but attempting to document the things I was seeing and feeling. Over the last few days, I have been so desperately wanting to communicate with people over here, what this whole experience has been like for me. But, I seemingly can't find the words.

When I came back to the counter to pick up my photos, the girl behind the counter said, "Erickson, right?." I said yes. And she then continued to say something along the lines of, "Can I just say, I was looking through your photos, and I wanted to sit down with you and get to know the people and the places you were seeing. I told the girls to come at look at them with me."

Sometimes, after taking so many pictures, and looking at them so many times, its easy to only see the mistakes or the places where I could have improved. Tonight, the staff at the photo centre reminded me...I DID go to Japan, and I DID encounter some beautiful things. It wasn't just a dream. And I guess my biggest fear in coming home was that my experiences there would only take place in isolation. While some of them I want to only remain in my mind, I was filled with so much joy at the surprise of a stranger showing a heart-felt interest in my pictures.

To girls at Shoppers, thank you. You reminded me of the excitment I felt in Japan.

adjusting

I'm home now.

Home.

Back from what has been the most incredible, challenging and beautiful experience of my life. After long hours of flying, 2 baggage checks, 3 airports, and an 8 hr layover...I finally made it to cold, but welcoming Edmonton at 11:30pm Wednesday night.

I made it home, felt exhausted, a litte sad to leave my life in Japan, but relieved to once again be surrounded by my family. I'm realizing that home really is a gift. A place where we can be ourselves. And I, having been called a foreigner and having been looked at for the last year and a half, can feel more normal once again...

But, do I?

Yesterday, was a good day. Got up really late and spent sometime with my mom and ate regular food, and did regular things, which I really loved.

Today, was...well...strange for me. It was as if everything was taking place in slow motion. I found myself being kind of sensitive. I think I'm going to have to take it slow when it comes to being in big groups of people. I find that I can't quite register now with jokes, it feels strange, because before I could. Maybe I'm just tired, maybe its the cold weather, maybe...I don't know. Maybe I jsut need to be patient with myself. Today, I finally had to pull the curtains down and be alone for a few hours. To re-charge or something.

I also know too that I am coming off a huge high, into a different world. A new place. And after I woke from a long 3 hr nap today, I honestly had to ask myself, "Was this past year just a dream...did it actually happen?" Yes it did. And, I'm just learning how to translate this into the world I am in now and the people around me.

This adjusting thing is gonna take sometime...and some more sleep.

closing credits...

2 days and counting until I leave Japan. The anxiety and stress of moving is settling in. The sadness of goodbyes is in the air. I'm sitting in my apartment, surrounded by a pile of clothing waiting to be put in suitcases, gifts from students, my camera, a photo album and other bits an pieces.

The last few weeks in Japan have been so meaningful. Travelling around Japan, spending time with the people I love here, numerous lunches and dinners spent together and alot of special moments that I want to keep in my pocket. Among the most special moments this year have been recieving an antique kimono from a student; standing on Mt. Fuji; witnessing a wedding march in Kyoto; seeing a geisha for the first time; partaking in a tea ceremony; being alone in an onsen, at night, in the rain; feeling leaves crunch under my feet in Kyoto; being treated for a beautiful meal by a stranger in Shirahama; sitting next to my friend Emi at the Yodogawa fireworks in Osaka; wearing kimono; talking with all ages of Japanese people; saying goodbye to a student and hearing her say "I enjoyed learning English because of you". These moments have been beyond me.

Everything just feels like its coming to an end so quickly. Its overwhelming. The something that I have found in Japan...is now being uprooted. All of Japan - its people, places, quirks, quiet moments, busy moments, and mysterious moments. Everything has made an impression on me. A part of me will always be here.

I guess this is just all apart of life. Things change, surprise you, encourage you, frustrate you, make you cry, make you laugh, give you courage, sober you, and inspire you. My experience in Japan has made me realize one of my new found passions is working abroad. This passion will now take me to China, starting in January.

As I'm wiping the tears from my eyes now, I think of what has been, what is, and what will be to come in the future.

your love, oh Lord, reaches to the heavens...Your faithfulness, stretches to the sky...You righteousness is like the mighty mountains...

Visiting Mt. Fuji recently, reminded me of the majesty and grandness of God's creation. Not only did I see it from a distance, but I had the chance to drive up the side with a couple friends. As we drove up the 3000m climb, we got out of the car periodically, to take in the view and to feel the ground under our feet. As we got closer and closer, making it to 2000m, we realized we could not go any further -due to slippery road conditions and intense fog. But, as I stood, and gazed at the snowy peak above me...I realized that my time in Japan is much bigger than me. I think I'm just beginning to realize that I can't fathom what kind of impact this will have on my life. As I felt the cold air on my nose and saw the clouds at eye level, it was almost as if I had arrived somewhere. Not only Mt.Fuji. If I looked away for a mere 2 minutes, it would be covered in thick clouds. Then, I would look again, and it was as clear as anything. A small window of time allowed for a fantastic view. And even though the clouds covered it from time to time, I knew was lay beyond them.

Mt. Fuji was a part of my trip to Tokyo last weekend. And while many things in Tokyo were eye catching, strange, beautiful and neon...it is the image of the straight slope of Fuji that permiates my mind today. I feel lucky because I not only had the chance to see Mt. Fuji 2000m up, but I also saw it in the distance from taking the bullet train back to Osaka. I was told that the mountain is often "shy" - hiding itself with its variable sky conditions. But, as I looked out the window of the Shinkansen early Monday morning to my right...there it was. Almost as if the clouds perfectly parted for me to see it.

Seeing such a famous landmark and symbol of Japan, in such a small and perfect window of time, was a gift. A gift I want to carry with me as I leave this country in 5 days.

I just don't think I will ever get over this...

the setting sun on shikoku island

My recent travels took me to the island of Shikoku, one of Japan's four main islands. It is known for being a place where my people go on spiritual pilgrammages to 88 temples around the island. And as I walked throug the streets of one city, Kochi, there is evidence of such people wearing the traitional cone shaped hats and white clothing, carrying a backpack and a walking staff. There is something different in the air on this island.

Getting out of Osaka, and taking the overnight bus trip across to another island, I immediately noticed the mountains became more visible and now that the leaves are finally turning in Japan, its as if someone has taken a paintbrush over the hills here. I arrive early in the morning to see the sunrise over the city of Kochi, which is over 80% mountinous.

I meet my friend living in Kochi and am instantly struck by the lack of concrete and tall buildings. I can see the faces of people and can smell the fresh mountain air. And the ocean in the distance.

During my 2 day stay in Kochi, it was as if time stood still. We walked through a famous market - filled with the freshest of fruit and vegtables, fish and local hand made crafts. The day is sunny and the peoples faces are equally so. I look around and notice there are more elderly people around, keen to make eye contact and show their sometimes toothless grins. Many people offer us pieces of fruit and welcome us to try some of their special sweets. We then make our way to Kochi Castle, where a local woman, Masako, gives us a tour of one of the oldest orignal castles in Japan. One thing I love about Japan is its people and how they seemingly adopt you for a day. We mention to Masako that we are interested in going to the beach Katsurahama, known for its shrine on the edge of a cliff. She not only tells us how to get there, but she drives us in her car, just in time to see the sunset.

As we made our way down to the beach, and it was getting dark. We walk up the set of white stairs, and come to the torrii gate and the sun is setting on the other side. At this moment, I thought to myself, I have entered a new season. The sun is setting on this experience in Japan, and I am about to enter into a new one. Among my experiences on Shikoku Island for the two days, this sunset remains imprinted in my minds eye. I look infront of me and there is only sea and sky. I look behind me and there is a shrine. I look even further behind me and there is a set of stairs leading down to the sand. I make my way down the stairs, wanting to soak in everything sensory thing I feel around me. The sound of the ocean, the first star in the sky, the smell of the ocean air, and somehow God placing His strong hand on me...and whispering in my ear...

Knowing that I'm leaving Japan at the end of the month, has seemingly made things more rich. I can't articulate it really. I remember during university, one of my professors saying to me that it is often the most the meaningful things that are the hardest to articulate. We are taken beyond. And met in a new place. A place that is deeper and richer. A more mysterious place, and yet somehow more familiar at the same time. I don't really know about mysterious things, but I know that this country has left its mark on me. I don't really even know in what ways. But, I feel its weight and significance.

reflections on uji

The other day, I visited a place outside Kyoto called Uji. If you have read "The Tale of Genji" - this is the place where the story is situated. The town is peppered with elements from the story. Seemingly making it come to life. What struck me most about this lovely place was not its claim to genji's tale, but its unusual calmness. You walk across many parts of Uji and you are greeted by many reflections along the water. Its as if you are walking on a mirror. At some points its hard to tell which way is up or down.

Byodoin Temple, situated just a short walk from a lovely little shopping street, was once a villa and now converted into a temple, is one of the oldest temples in Japan, if not the oldest. About 1000 years old to be exact. As you approach the temple, your eyes are drawn to the surrounding pond that gives the most incredible reflection. In fact, when you walk around Byodoin, it seems to look different from every direction. And from inside the temple, you can see a Buddha made entirely of cypress, which looks out onto the surrounding pond and the mountains. The water is unusually still. You almost feel you would walk on this water its so still.

The day I visited Uji, it was cloudy. And, as I looked passed the temple, onto the cloudy mountain scenery, there was some sort of mystery that became evident. In the cloudiness and unusual stillness...I could see myself. All the cloudiness and unusual stillness, as if waiting for something. Quietly waiting for something. Not expecting anything. Just waiting. And wondering.

I had a conversation with a good friend recently, and we talked about being called into the wild. Before, the wild meant for me - something messy, loud, and so many obstacles that need to be overcome or worked through. After visiting Uji, the meaning of wild kind of changed. Wild is kind of now the unusual anticipation. Before something great happens. Like the temple at Uji, from far away, its difficult to see any of the details and its hard to see through the cloudy day. But, as you approach the something great, and you begin to study the intricate and divine details. And, if you are lucky, you can go inside the something great and look from the inside out and see a new reflection in the water.

Maybe life is a series of reflections. One thing can be viewed from so many different directions and perspectives, but becasue of its reflection...it changes how we see it. I thought about when a person usually sees a reflection - on a lake, a small pond, after the rain, and looking in the mirror. Maybe the reflection is just something pretty to look at, but then again...maybe its something else...

ps. the pictures are best viewed if you click on them, to see them upclose...

new photo website...

just attempting to post my photos to a new site...feel free to check it out over the next few days

www.flickr.com/photos/risingsungirl

on childhood dreams...

just listen...

This song, I think, is talking about an ended relationship, but somehow for me, this song is how I feel about this country, Japan. And knowing that I will be leaving my experience here in a few weeks. I mentioned it in my previous post, and I felt I needed to share it with you in a more real sense.
A friend of mine just sent me this passage that has given me some perspective. From the novel "Gilead"
"When I'm here in my study with the radio on and some old book in my hands and it's nighttime and the wind blows and the house creaks, i forget where i am and it's as though I'm back in hard times for a minute or two and there's a sweetness in the experience which I don't understand. But that only enhances the value of it. My point here is that you never do know the actual nature even of your own experience. Or perhaps it has no fixed and certain nature. I remember my father down on his heels in the rain, water dripping from his hat, feeding me biscuit from his scorched hand, with that old blackened wreck of a church behind him and steam rising where the rain fell on embers, the rain falling in gusts and the women singing "The Old Rugged Cross " while they saw to things, moving so gently as if they were dancing to the hymn, almost...It was so joyful and sad. I mention it again because it seems to me much of my life was comprehended in that moment. Grief itself has often returned to me that morning, when I took communion from my father's hand. I remember it as communion and I believe thats what it was. I cannot tell you what that day in the rain has meant to me. I can't tell myself what it has meant to me. But I know how many things it put altogether beyond question for me."
Now, I can go on with my day.

a closed door...an open window...and into the wild

As I write this I realize it has been a long time. I have missed this spot. My faithful futon, my cup of tea, incense and the keys in front of me. For various reasons, I haven't been able to blog these last few weeks. My world has been turned upside down in more ways than one. I haven't really known how to cope with it.

A few weeks ago, I was preparing myself to stay here for another year, but the company I have been working for in Japan has had some major financial issues and is currently denying teachers their salary, and just found out today that it is going bankrupt. It has been difficult going to work - feeling kind of taken advantage of and wondering if we were getting paid. I find myself going to union meetings for the first time in my life and trying to educate myself on the ins and outs of a big Japanese company. Everything has recently come to a complete halt and I found myself not having the chance to say a proper goodbye to the students I had grown to love so much over this last year.

I have had to remind myself time and time again that everything happens for a reason. But, even before all this happened, I could feel myself some how being called again, into the wild. Almost like a new adventure has been calling my name. I think now is the chance to tap into this, and to unravel what the new adventure might be.

I was reading in Daniel 2:20-22 the other day -

"Praise be to the name of God for ever and ever.
Wisdom and power are His

He changes times and seasons,
He sets up kings and deposes them

He gives wisdom to the wise
and knowledge to the discerning

He reveals deep and hidden things;
He knows what lies in darkness,
and light dwells with Him."

Japan has meant more to me than any experience I could have asked for. Its unexpected places and people. And moments that will be etched in my mind. In the last few days, my heart has felt heavy, the kind of heavy you have when someone close passes away. This experience has been all consuming, and I can almost feel myself going through the motions of a kind of grieving process. Realizing that in one month, I will be leaving Japan. This impact of this experience is beginning to catch up with me. Living here, learnig about teaching and language, breathing in the air, walking the grounds of temples, seeing Geishas, taking crowded subways, trying on kimono, being embraced by strangers and having travel at my access. A song I'm listening to right now by Colin Hay complete describes how much Japan has meant to me...Its almost as if Japan is personified for me... -"I just don't think I'll ever get over you"

Packing my things, cancelling memberships, throwing things away, and attempting to soak in as much of this country as I can in the short time I have. One of the gifts right now about not working is that it leaves more time for travel and the chance to spend time with the people who have made impressions on me during my time here. Now is the time to soak and to let Japan take its course in my heart and mind.

I want to drink it in, soak it in and let this country come over me these last few weeks.

untitled.

its 1:40am...and i can't sleep...but...I'm ok with that...

i'm looking at the world map posted on my bedroom door. why is it that when I look, sometimes gaze at this map, the hairs on my neck stand up? why does my heart start to pound? my stomach, flighty. why is it that I cannot simply glance at it whenever I walk by? i always want to have a good, long, look at it. and i want to put on my favorite song. and drink my favorite tea. everything seems so possible, so tangible and yet mysterious when i see it. the world is smaller and bigger all at once. sometimes I wish I could put it in my pocket, just to have it with me. or put it on my ceiling so its the last thing I see before I go to bed and the first thing I see when I wake up. i'm realizing that if I do this...I might never sleep or want to get out of bed. then where would I be?...

my heart would still be pounding, my gaze fixed, and my hair would still be standing on end...

its 1:40am...and i can't sleep...but...I'm ok with that...

i live to know you more...

I was listening to this song today, and I felt like I needed to post these lyrics to all the people I know who are worshippers. The words are simple, but lately this has been a mediation of mine. As storms come and go, there is laughter and pain, I have been repeating this quietly under my breath...

You hold it all at once

The earth and all within

You look with eyes of love

To the sons of man

That I am known by You

Compels my heart to sing

I live to know You more

I live to know You more

I live to know You more

For me to live is Christ

To know You is my life

The storms will come and go

There's laughter and there's pain

Your kindness leads me on

To the light again

So I live and breathe

And find myself in You

I live to know You

I live to know You

I live to know You more

I count it all but loss

Compared to knowing You

I give my life away

To know You any day.

(To know You more, Hillsong)

awa dori

Summer is the season of festival, upon festival in Japan. Every day you hear of a festival somewhere. You name it - they have a festival for it. One thing I have learned here is that the Japanese sure know how to work hard, and they also know how to play hard as well.

The past weekend, in the little prefecture of Kita Senri, where I work, the festival of owa dori was being held.

"Part of O-Bon rites to welcome ancestral spirits, Awa Odori started more than 400 years ago. This year, more than 100,000 locals and visitors are expected to dance all over the city of Tokushima into the early morning hours accompanied by shamisen, drums, flutes, and bells. One dance group (Niwaka-ren) for walk-in participants will feature simple steps and movements. "

This tradition was brought from Tokushima, and is now danced in many parts of Japan.

The little place of Kita Senri has recently been draped in red and yellow lanterns. Coming out of my branch from time to time, yet another decoration seems placed. And another food stand - housing fresh cooked meat, and japanese sweets is put up. The air is hot, and the sound of a festival is in the atmosphere. I see many people - both old and young, dressed in traditional colourful kimonos. And for this particular festival, a very unique style hat is worn - I think to simulate the hats that are worn on the rice fields. I hear the sound of the special geta shoes hit the ground as women rush to find their place in the special dance.

As night approaches, the air is thick with festival fever. So many children in yukata, with cotton candy and small goldfish they have won at a game stand. The people are starting to pile into the main courtyard and wait to see the many traditional dancers. And the moment comes...the sound of the heaviest drum, and the small flute begin to play. And the dancers enter. Their movements almost echo that of rice farmers - bending down low and reaching to the sky to give thanks for the harvest. The drums are loud. You cannot help but gaze at the brilliant costumes, and unique movements.

I notice that that is not only the adults who participate in this special tradition, but it also the very, very young as well. Small children dressed in traditional garb try to imitate the movements of their elders. And I spotted a very elderly man as well, who looks like he has been doing this year after year - as evidenced by the flick of his wrist, and the bright grin on his face. Watching all of this take place, you feel such a sense of community in the air. As I continued to watch, little did I know that I would be so overcome with inexplicable joy.

As the dance progresses, the participant gather in a circle. The drums continue to beat. Now slower and louder. The air is humid, and you can seemingly feel the drum beat in the air.

More people begin to gather...including a young girl in a wheelchair. Dressed in a yukata, she is lead into the circle and is swept across the floor, as everyone dances. Hands are in the air, including hers. Stretched so high. Dancing like the wheelchair is not even there. All I see is her shining face and her beautiful costume. Perhaps the most beautiful sight of the evening. Maybe the most beautiful sight of my life. As I write this, I weep. I have never seen such a strong image of community like I have tonight. Young and the old, the very young and the very old, those who are able bodied, and those who are carried by a special spirit.

As my time progresses in Japan, I feel like it is getting more and more difficult to put into words the things I am seeing and experiencing. I'm fighting give words to the speechless moments.

I guess tonight I though, what a great image of heaven. Community. Dancing. The beating of a drum. Languages. Colour. Light. Our gaze will be fixed on something great.

along the banks of the yodogawa

As I sit here, I feel as though the summer is sweeping me away. It is now August. The summers here, I have learned, are filled with festivals, events, fireworks, and hot humid weather. The airconditioner seeming to be your best friend.

A few days ago was the time of the annual Yodogawa fireworks festival in Osaka. Apparently about 400,000 people gather along the banks of the river to watch the fireworks display every year. And this year, I got to be apart of it. As I got off at the train station in Juso to meet my friend Emi, I was bombarded with crowds upon crowds of people.

Now is the season for the summer kimono - also known as a yukata. And they are traditionally worn at festivals such as these. You always know there is a special occassion when you see the young women wearing yukatas in the train. Their hair neatly tied back with a flower, and they take the tiniest steps in hopes of not showing their ankles, as to maintain their modesty. It seems like there are a sea of these women in colourful yukatas, scurrying along in their geta (small wooden sandals), and men in the jimbays accompanying them - all hoping to get a good spot along the waters edge.

My dear friend Emi and I managed to find each other, and we made our way to Juso station's crowded washroom so she could assist me in putting on my yukata. Along with the beautiful design of the yukata's, are also the impressionable obi (or belt) that are wrapped around your waist, and tied in a most interesting fashion in the back. Once dressed, we both made our way to the river.

As I was walking in my yukata, I couldn't help but feel Japanese in a way. I felt like I had become apart of something that had been going on for a long time. I had to take smaller steps, in order to accommadate my yukata, and as I caught a glimpse of myself in a passing window, I felt like this was a moment I had been waiting for.

Approaching the river, you see thousands and thousands of people - and the city skyline on the other side, compliments the view. The rivebank is lined with the greatest number of food stalls I have ever seen, with the largest variety of foods I have ever seen. And if you manage to find a seat, you can sit and enjoy both the sights, sounds and smells of this festival. All three are beautiful.

As Emi and I make our way to the blanket she has used to save our spot, we sit and wait. The moment arrives, we are surprised by the loud noise of the fireworks, the the silence of the people. Everyone turns their heads, and all eyes are on the starry sky and the bright flashes of light.

I am first struck by the large scale of these fireworks. Like none I have ever seen. Patterns, shapes, colours I have never seen. Or ever dreamed possible. The Japanese sure know how to do fireworks! I even spotted a few cartoon characters and one even shaped like the planet Saturn.

The sound around me is nothing but tbe loud crack of the fireworks, and the sound of childrens excitement "Sugei" "Subarashi" "Ahhh." With each firework comes anticipation for the next. Brighter. Louder. Bigger. More beautiful. Everyone else seemed to fall silent. I look at Emi, she looks at me - we both are awestruck with such a beautiful display of light! Its amazing that this can quiet such a large group of spectators. When watching such a beautiful display of light, it seems to be the only thing in the world that matters. I look around, and I think to myself...I'm in Japan. I'm wearing a yukata. And I'm surrounded by the Japanese. The atmosphere feels thick with culture. The moment when you completely live in the present. Its just you, the night, and the fireworks.

The show lasts for about one hour, and when it finishes - you wish it could keep going forever. You feel a little sad, but also inspired and full of hope at the same time.

As the excitement still looms in the air, everyone gets up, shakes off, and gathers their things. As I part ways with Emi, I feel hopeful for the next part of my journey here. Like these fireworks were somehow symbollizing my journey in Japan. A journey of sometimes mixed emotions, hopefulness, excitement, joy, surprise and bright lights.

Seeing perhaps the most magnificent fireworks I have seen made me recognize that life really is magical. It demands our attention. It can focus us, and distract us, it can make us work harder, and it can make us play harder too. It teaches us to stand, or to just sit for a while. A soak in the moment.

"leave a little emptiness. a space for when what you are waiting for arrives." paul madonna

The last few weeks, I feel like I have gotten rusty. Lost track of important things, things that I want to invest myself in, but have become lazy. Things that I have wanted to care about and wanted to spend time on have seemingly gone out the window. And I found myself stuck in the mud. And getting a little homesick. Many of the activities I have grown accustomed to here, no longer had the same meaning. Even writing became more difficult.

Now having lived in this country for 11 months, I have learned that I can be intentional about investing in myself and my relationship with God, or I can just avoid this all together, and simply go to work, and everything falls into a daily routine. Sometimes unhealthy patterns emerge. I have somehow lost touch with myself a little over the last few weeks. It has also been a process of working out the seasons of life - how we change, how we mold and how we emerge into something different...or just become more of ourselves.

Now, being the middle of my journey here, I think I am beginning a new path. But, I am at a crossroad at the moment. Deciding the direction I should go. Coming to terms with my experience here and how it is actually impacting my thoughts about myself, about God and about my future. The reality of living in this country is really starting to sink in. Its not disappointing...my impressions are just changing and shifting now. I want to make this experience all that it was intended for me in the first place. The both scary and exciting adventure.

I came to this realization last week. It during my days off. It was the first time in a while I felt like a little child in a long time. And if I remember my childhood correctly, it was refreshing, joyful and scary at the same time. And last Tuesday, I could re-live my childhood once again.

A couple of my friends and I went to a theme park for the day, and I knew that the possibility of going on a roller coaster was looming in the air. I didn't dare mention this possibility. But, we soon found ourselves in the line up, waiting to board the dreaded machine. I had a flashback to a time when my friend Jacinda and I went to the rodeo St. Albert, and I became so sick after a ride we had gone on. I have been scared of rides ever since, I will admit. And as I waited in line last Tuesday, I knew that I would soon regret going on this roller coaster. As we boarded and the coaster started to go to the top of the drop...my chest felt heavy...a bead of sweat dripped down my back...I thought "I can't do this. I can't do this. What am I doing here? Get me off...

And, as the roller coaster made its way to the top...and finally over the edge to drop...I felt light...my feet felt light...they had lifted off the ground...I had no control over the direction of the roller coaster...but, I knew that I was secure, and that I felt free at the same time.

I can't help but feel this has been parellel to my experience here. I had no idea that I would be taken this far, that I would be stretched this far. And, even though beads of sweat might pour down my back, and I can't see over the edge, something...Someone has been holding me. Maybe this journey has been about allowing my feet to not touch the ground...but allowing that certain Someone to carry me...and let me not worry.

As I have decided to stay another year here, I can only hope that I will continue to be expanded and stretched. As uncomfortable and scary as it can be sometimes. But, the view from over the edge...is a beautiful one.

"Look mom, no hands!!!"

hello everyone. I heard that my parents have been getting alot of questions about the recent earthquake in Japan in Nigata prefecture and wondering if I'm ok. I'm sorry for the late response - but everything is ok in Osaka. I feel incredibly lucky to be living in this city, which is a relatively stable area. I guess the Nigata earthquake registered a 6.8 on the scales, which is almost equivalent to the earthquake that happened 12 years ago in Kobe (the Hanshin Earthquake), which was the most devistating earth quake in Japan's history. So, its a little scary, to say the least. I reccommed looking it up on the internet. I visited Kobe a number of times, and I once visited the memorial site they have for the earhtquake. Cracked pavement, and lightposts that no longer stand straight are a sobering reminder that to live in Japan means that this is a reality.

I'm doing ok, and I'm safe, just letting you know. Sorry for not keeping up with the blog these last few days. Maybe just send up a prayer to the people of Nigata today.

"hold my hands, inside your hands..."

The last week, I have gotten notes from friends, cards in the mail, special and personal gifts that have obviously been given alot of thought, and litle signs here and there that have sustained me. Everyday, there have been little miracles that have occured. Without these, my heart would not be in the place it is right now. I have been able to make it through these last 2 weeks, when I thought I couldn't.

I feel as though you are here beside me. I see your writing, I hear your music, I look at your pictures. There is evidence of your friendship all around. Little fingerprints that I will treasure. Thank you to everyone for your support while being over here.

sleepless...

its 2am. i can't sleep. its funny when you can't sleep. its all in how you look at it. i can look at it as a problem, or maybe just an adventure to be had. just think of the possibilities. i realized also that i live in a country where if i wanted fast food, a single wrapped egg and if i happen to need an extra pair of socks at 2am - i can pretty much get it. still...here i sit...on my futon...beads of sweat pour down my back, thanks to the recent humidity in Osaka. maybe there is no real point to this edition...maybe i'm just sleepless...sleepless in Osaka....

could you carry me through...

The other night I taught one of my friends how to ride a bicycle...On a hot, hot, humid night in Osaka. As the sweat dripped down our backs, and we were laughing and feeling self conscious about random Japanese men staring at us. Still, we pressed on, one peddle at a time. I wasn't exactly sure how to teach someone to ride a bicycle. Its just a skill that you don't really have to think about. But, then again, maybe it does require more thought than we think...

Having a bicycle in this country, is almost like having breath. You need it. With it, you can go longer, faster, you can see more, and you see and experience the unexpected. You also run the risk of getting run over, bumping into people, going through scary tunnels really fast and attempting to peddle up hills on just one gear. (yes...just one gear).

I guess I got to thinking...its really an excercise in trust. In faith. Most of the times, when I am riding my bicyle, its generally pretty effortless. Sometimes, however, I forget how unexpected this city can be. At any given corner, someone can surprise you and you must swerve out of his direction or sometimes you just collide with them. You never really know whats going to happen. Its exciting but also very scary. I just try my best to grip the handles and keep peddling. Even though the sweat pours down my back.

grip the handles and keep peddling...hmm...

I realized in the last few days, that this is what I really need to keep doing. If I let go of the handles, I will most defanitely loose control. If I stop peddling, I won't go anywhere. Although there are hills that I have to climb, and sometimes just straight, long paths with not much to see - I must peddle. That will sustain me. Even if I don't know where I'm goin sometimes...I know that the bicycle will take me further than I ever would go by myself. Somehow, I think this bicycle is more of a literal metaphor than I originally thought.

Through this bicycle, life has become more accessible. More wonderful. More scary. More beautiful. But, my bicylce has also made life somehow more simple as well.

Sometimes, I have to go through tiny streets, or through narrow pathways, and sometimes, I have to carry it over barriers...sometimes places I don't think I should go. But, the bicycle always brings me through even the most difficult of circumstance. The most tiny of streets and the most darkest nights.

My experience of Osaka and Japan, has been made better because of my bicycle. Teaching my friend how to ride a bicycle the other night, taught me somehow that God is really taking me through an exercise of trusting Him. Hence, my bicycle has become a very tangible metaphor for me. Clinging to Him with all my might. But, allowing Him to carry me and bring me further than I ever thought I could bring myself.

ok...so this is what grieving feels like...i feel like it just got more difficult. i really am away from my family...in another country...God...You are the one i must cling to...You are the one I will cling to...