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...

the ambiguity of grieving

When someone passes away, its hard to know what should do or how you should behave. Especially being out here, where I have felt a little powerless to do anything, the process of grieving and dealing with my grief has changed a little.

When I found out my grandpa passed away on Saturday night, my reaction was one of shock and disbelief. What was I supposed to do? After a long, teary conversation with a close friend and my parents, I began to calm down, hear myself think again, and begin to journal and try to understand what God was trying to say through this situation. Sometimes, when someone passes away we expect to react in a way that God has stolen something from us. While I have felt kind of an emptiness inside these last few days, my grieving process has changed from being passive to a kind of active grieving. Being away from my family I think has caused this reaction.

I've been writing a letter to my grandfather to be read at the funeral. Asking my parents questions about what happened. Journalling. Asking more questions. Sending flowers to my grandma. Doing more journalling. Taking a long ride on my bicycle.

Grieving is a strange thing. You don't really know what you should do with yourself. You cry a little. Laugh a little. Get mad. You cry alot. Laugh alot. And then cry again...you get the picture. But you always seem to feel ambiguous about everything. I have had relatives pass away before, but I was always surrounded by family, and I could see their faces and hold their hand. But, not having them here, has been difficult. But, it has also challenged me to again cling to God. To really cling, and to try to listen more attentively to what He is saying through all this. Maybe, this whole experience is about trusting him. To just let go of myself, and to trust Him. If anything, in the last 10 months, a reoccuring theme has been trust. And learning that God really does have all of us in his hands.

This song has been repeatedly in my head these last few days. I hope that where ever you are at, that you can find some truth in it,

When everything is wrong
The day has passed and nothing's done
And the whole world seems against me
When I'm rolling in my bed, there's a storm in my head
I'm afraid of sinking in despair

Teach me, Lord to have faith
In what you're bringing me will
Change my life and bring you glory

There on the storm I am learning to let go
Of the will that I so long to control
There may I be in your arms eternally
I thank you, Lord,
you are the calmer of the storm.

You rebuke the wind and the waves
Once again I find I'm amazed & the power of your will
Cuz I'm a child of little faith
I feel the wind and forget your grace
And you say, "Peace, be still."

There on the storm I am learning to let go
The white wave's high, it's crashing o'er the deck
And I don't know where I go
Where are you Lord, is my ship going down?
The mast is gone so throw the anchor
Should I jump and try to swim to land?

There on the storm, teach me God to understand
Of the Will that I just cannot control
There may I see all your love protecting me
I thank you Lord, you are the calmer of the storm
(Calmer of the Storm, Downhere)

to my grandpa...

Mom, here are my thoughts for grandpas funeral. I hope this is ok. Its so hard to sum him up in one word.


Dear Grandpa,

I can remember as kids, Julie and always had good memories of you. Whether it was playing in our backyard at Glenmore, being chased up the stairs by you, or being given those whisker rubs that we claimed we always hated (but really, now that I think about it they made us laugh). And your joy-filled laughter still echoes in my mind, as I recall sitting on your lap numerous times during Christmas holidays. And you never hesitated to dish out the tickle attacks on Julie and I.

One thing that will always remain etched in my mind was your ability to make anything with your hands. So intricitely. So carefully. Anything that you ever made for Julie and I, you signed it, you left your mark somehow. So there was no mistaking who made it. We have countless doll houses, a rocking horse and numberous miniature figures that you always wrote a note on and signed. There is evidence of you all around. I can still smell the fresh wood shavings of your shop in the garage, when we would come over to you and grandmas house. You have made your stamp on my childhood, and your memory will be engraved in my heart forever.

It breaks my heart that I can't be there today to celebrate your life, and to think about all that you have done and accomplished. I think what I have learned being here in Japan and having this experience, is that life is to be treasured and not taken for granted. Especially, remembering to value those we care about. You are one of those people. And to hold them close. Like a special charm in our pocket that we always carry with us.

So Grandpa, I guess this is goodbye for now. Until we meet again. I love you.

Jane

fragile lives

Today, I found out that a girl I went to high school with, Jennifer, has passed away, due to a long battle with cancer. And she was the same age as many of my friends and the people I went to high school with. She died May 6th of this year. Somehow the small problems of my day seem to all drift away at the thought of this.

I never knew her personally, I only knew her face from seeing her in the hallways, and hearing her name called by friends. Maybe our lives are more fragile and valuable than we think. Maybe we just aught to treat each day as a valuable treasure. One that is kept close and held dear. But most of all, a treasure that is to be shared with others. In close and supportive community.

Sometimes, I wonder why life is cut short. Like a switch. Sometimes without warning. And sometimes death awaits us, as we anticipate its knock on our door. As my family is currently experiencing with my grandfather... waiting...wondering when the day will be.

Maybe its times like these where we just aught to stop...sit...and be thankful for our lives. To take a deep breath. Not to fear death, but just to realize that with each passing day comes another chance to grow, experience, and breath. Maybe, this is what life is about.

As Jenn was my age, this is a sobering thought. So, here I will sit and think about her fragile and valuable life. And everything else melts away...

continual impressions

to where the wind calls my name...

Kinkauji Temple in Kyoto with my parents.
The Nunobiki Herb Park in Kobe
Visiting a tea house at the Koko-en gardens in Himeji
Trying a outdoor footspa at Arashiyama Station, in Kyoto
My friend Emi, who I do language exchange with, took my family for a day in Kyoto. She met us in Osaka in the morning, wearing her kimono!
----

Why is it that when you are with the people you love the most, that time passes the quickest? Why is it that the moments seem to fly right over your head, before you have the chance to realize?

Having the chance to share this country with my family was perhaps the most wonderful thing. To share with them the things I have seen, the people I have met and the way I live day to day, meant so much.

There are moments from the past 2 weeks that I want to stay etched in my mind for the rest of my life. Some moments seem epically surreal, others seem perhaps more small and personal. Both share equal significance for me. Whether it was strolling through the Imperial Palace in Kyoto;walking along the shores of Miyajima Island; having few words while standing the Peace Park of Hiroshima; gazing at the golden beauty of Kinkakuji Temple; introducing the joy of kushikatsu; taking my sister to kareoke; going shopping with my mom; or just sitting and having a long talk with my dad. Every moment was memorable. Every moment special.

Most of my travels over the last nine months, have been about self discovery. Each place seemingly revealling its own secret to me. Each place being a gift to unwrap. Having the chance to share this gift with my family, brought a new sort of discovery and perspective on my experience here. I had the chance to re-visit the places that I have grown to love, and to see them again through fresh and impressionable eyes. And seeing new things together as a family, allowed us to share in the joy of discovering uncharted territory.

Having my family visit also helped me understand how Japan has changed and it changing me. How it has shaped my thinking about life, about family, about priorities, and what I choose to live for. Most of all, it seems that the simple things have become of greatest significance for me. Seeing the sun set and rise, always having a project to dedicate myself to, having music in my ears, and my journal by my side.

Although this country continually impresses its images on me and changes me, one thing always remains a constant: the companionship of someone greater than me. The ear that is always listening to my thoughts. And the once quiet whisper that has now become a voice that resonates in my heart and mind.

I can't help but think that the last 9 months have been like somewhat of a pregnant (is this the word I want to use?) pause in my life. A break, but also a time of preparation and expectation. And a time that has birthed new things in my life. This family visit allowed me to become even more conscious of the beauty and mystery that exists here. But, maybe more importantly, the beauty and mystery that can exist in all of our lives. Maybe we just need to tap into it. Or that this mystery is just waiting to tap into us.

As I said goodbye to my family yesterday, this time until Christmas, the words of a familiar song echoed in my ear:

"I want to go where the mountains are high enough to echo my song... I want to go where the stars shine bright enough to show me the way... I want to go where the wind calls my name."

To my family: your are on my mind as I sit here on my futon. And as the rain pours outside my window. In this big city.

"lying in my bed...I hear the clock ticking... and think of you"

to mom, dad, and julie...


As I sit to write this entry, I have butterflies. I can't wait to see you in 2 days. I can't believe it! The time has flown (no pun intended). I was getting the students to tell me interesting facts about Osaka the other day, in order to properly introduce you to this city. Here's what they came up with:

-The Kansai Airport is the worlds only floating airport, and aparently every year, it is gradually sinking. Ummm...maybe something you didn't want to know.

-The Yodogawa River is the river that runs through Osaka, and is the prominent spot of the Firworks Fesitval in August.

-There are 808 bridges in Osaka

-Osaka is also known as the Merchant City, alot of trade is done by water.

-Osaka is the home of the Hanshin Tigers (baseball team)

-the city is also the headquarters of Yomiuri Television. In case you decide you want to watch some Japanese t.v while you are here.

-The biggest building in Osaka is the Umeda Sky Building, with the floating garden observatory on top (I hope to take you here on Thursday). You know, its only like 38 stories or something...no big deal.

-Signature Osaka food: Takoyaki (Octopus Balls) - which I will make you try when we go to Osaka Castle!!

Something interesting that I found:

"The population of Osaka Prefecture is 8,804,806 , or seven percent of the total population of Japan, ranking second after Tokyo Prefecture.
Osakans are especially famous among their fellow Japanese for their strong character. Osakans speak the Osaka dialect even when in Tokyo and tend to be easygoing anywhere. People tend to think of Osaka as a town of merchants, and one of the most famous exchange of phrases translates roughly as, “Have you been making any money? / Well, just getting by.” In one survey, Osaka ranked first among prefectures as a place whose image was described as very industrious. In addition, people tend to associate Osaka with lively, brignt images like “vigorous,” “cheerful and aggressive,” and “friendly.” Indeed, it is said that each prefecture in the Kansai area is blessed with its own unique characteristics, and comparisons of the residents of each prefecture reflect these wide differences."

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I am anticipating your visit more than you know. I can't wait to finally show people what my world looks like. Mostly because you will be able to see it with your eyes, walk on it's ground, smell it's air, and hear it's sound. I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes...I hope this place will come alive for you, as it has for me.

being intentionally aimless...and managing to find something beautiful

I spent the last 2 days doing alot of walking. Perhaps the most I have ever done yet. I kind of re-discovered Osaka again. I walked in Dotonbori area, which is filled with equal amount of people and bright lights, and good shopping. The humidty is starting to come back again. I can remember when I first got here last August, and it seemed almost unbearable. But, I have yet to experience a full Osaka summer. And from what I have heard, it will be interesting. Up to 38 degrees or something. Nonetheless, it was good to wander the streets of this bright city again. Seeing bizarre people, interesting fashion, and street vendors yelling at you from various directions.

In the spirit of discovery, my second day off took me to Wakayama. A 1.5 hr train ride south of Osaka. Having really no idea what to expect, I took my camera, my journal and my music in my ears, and headed south on the JR. Perhaps one of the things I find most charming about this country are its train stations. Each with its own atmosphere and distinct character. Some more charming than others. While waiting in Tennoji station in Osaka, I had time to wait for my train. I had a chance to look at the windows, the platforms, the arriving trains, the surrounding cafes, the busy people, the small children. Not sure what intrigued me exactly. Everything was just in its place. And everyone had someplace to go.

The train ride to Wakayama is a journey into the country side. Lush valleys, some farm land, and hills as far as the eye can see. Once arriving in this city, many people hit the beach or visit some of the less advertized sight-seeing spots. I had a little trouble navigating myself at first, but I managed to find my way to the castle and to a mountain top temple, Kimiidera. My original plan was to hit the beach, but these other things captured me. I was struck by the more remote feeling of Wakayama. Fewer large buildings, friendlier people. One man even led me to my bus stop, and extended his arm to me.

I mostly took my time today, strolling and wandering aimlessly, studying the walls of this castle, and taking in the view from the top. It was a sunny and humid day. People play in a nearby park, and parents stroll with their kids.

Further down the road wasw Kimiidera. A temple nestled the mountainside. The temple peaks through the lush trees in the distance as I approach the base. I slowly make my way up the 230 stone steps, and look over my shoulder to keep checking the view of Wakayama. I'm greeted by various old wood structures, coloured curtains, lanterns and small pools of water. The smell of incense in the air. I'm not sure if there was anything that particularly struck me about this place, but the view behind me of the ocean made for a picturesque afternoon.

Somedays here, I love having no agenda. Not really sure of what I'm going to see. But, just to travel for the sake of traveling. Some days are truely breathtaking, and other are...well...just non-agendid (I think I just came up with this...) walks for the sake of exploring. I love that I can do that here. Sometimes, it just nice to have a train window to look out of, or to see people doing their grocery shopping or taking a stroll, or having my favorite songs playing in my ear. Maybe thats what today was about...being proactively aimless. I like that...