Soul Excursions

Recently, I’ve begun a walk/run routine. It’s part of one of my goals of finishing a marathon. Last year, I tried and failed miserably; I only made it 13k and that was in immense pain. I failed because of a combination of factors, an old kneed injury being the most deciding factor. But the reasons aren’t important. The fact is, I failed.

Failure is great. My marathon epic fail was one of the best things that has ever happened to me. It was a moment that forced me to face the fact that I’m not as young as I used to be. Not that I’m old, mind you, but I’m certainly older and I’ve noticed that things are different. It’s the small things that you notice first, such as aches and pains that creep from nowhere and having to work just a little harder to stay in shape. It has made me approach life more methodically.

Enough growing pains.

Walking has given me more freedom than anything else before. My legs carry me to some interesting places that I would never have visited.

Today, my feet carried me off the regular path to a place of beauty and mystery. A paved road wove around small gardens towards an unknown peak. The heat of the day beat down but eased as I reached a sheer cliff fortified with the canonical concrete retaining wall that is so familiar in Japan. There must have been a landslide from the flooding last year. A copse of bamboo shielded the place from everything, making the road and city noises feel miles away. Bamboo shoots were beginning their life so energetic with moist softness.

A steep concrete path invited me to go further. So I did. Shade from the bamboo forest provided much needed relief from the pressing sun. As the incline leveled, a statue waited patiently. As I looked up at it, sun rays haloed my vision. There was a gazebo so I decided to get more respite from the sun and do a little stretching. Counting off a forward stretch, I couldn’t help but notice a vigorous patch of white clover. As I looked closer, four leaves on one stem popped out. I’ve never seen a four-leaf clover in my entire life! I thought it was a joke. But there it was. I plucked it for luck (I felt bad but it was fortunate because when I went back the grass had been cut).

I was about to leave but I noticed that there was more to be seen. Round, manicured bushes standing about shoulder height stretched beyond the statue for about fifty meters and a small path among the bushes led to a building on the far side. I walked along the path to a building open on one side. Inside and all around were Buddha statues, some with scarves on. It was a magnificent sight!

Walking may not be a failure, but each time I go out I discover something new, whether it is about myself or my surroundings. As I age and experience life, I realize how little I know. I mean, it was thirty-four years before I saw a real four-leaf clover. There is so much more to know. A failure started me walking. How have your failures motivated you?

So I will live today in wonder and engagement, striving for a tomorrow that will see my feet and spirit carry me even further to discover something new.

The Awkward Elephant

What was that?

That person moves different.

I’m not a well-traveled person. I’ve seen my fair share of the U.S. and an insignificant fraction of Canada. Japan is the first country I’ve been required to have a passport for. I’ve also realized recently that I’ve never been a tourist. I mean, I am a tourist, but I live here, so I’m not. I guess I’m not really sure what a tourist is. Okay. I’ve never bought a package deal or been part of a tour group. I’m sticking to it. I hope the soapbox bubbles aren’t getting in the way.

Today I would like to explore true awkwardness. It is true that living among people that look different than you impacts your self-image greatly. Skin is a different shade, body types are different, movements are different. I’m using different too much here. But what happens when you notice the familiar? This is where things get dicey and truly awkward. There are a myriad of ways that the encounter may play out.

There’s the straight ignore. Heads turn away to look at something, anything else. This is very difficult because it’s hard to ignore the elephant in the room, but it is the most common occurrence.

It’s funny really.

There’s the track down. This happens when one foreigner sees another and they rush after them. The responses are varied. The one doing the chasing wants to talk but the other may not want anything to do with them. The reactions can be downright cold, or they can be quite warm. Sometimes the person tracked down was actively ignoring the chaser. It results in pure tragic comedy.

There’s the whoops! You approach someone and they don’t speak your language. So then you try the little bit of assumed shared language of Japanese, which could result in some interesting reactions.

There are more but these are representative of the archetypal encounters I’ve had. I began to wonder why. I am guilty of it as well. I mean, are foreigners obligated to acknowledge each other? What language do they speak? Instead of asking we just ignore each other. It is certainly easier. Then there’s the question of working, living, or travelling. Then I thought about what it would be like in a city back home. I am not experienced when it comes to cities but it seems that most people ignore those around them. It makes sense. But still this bothers me.

I think it is the cold elitist that disturbs me. Some encounters have felt as though the other projects an air of superiority over you, especially when they have been on the ground longer or know the language better. They know more about the host country than anybody else. I’ve run into my fair share of people like that back home as well. I guess it makes sense that they travel as well.

This topic blows my mind. I don’t have an answer, only the fact that it happens very often. I get lost in a circular logic that defeats every theory that I come up with. This is my third draft on this topic and I don’t feel any closer to a cohesive thought. Any thoughts? Does it happen in other countries?

One year on…

And then a full year passed! I know, time moves on wherever you are. I’ve always been amazed by time because it seems to move at different speeds. But just like everything else in my life, the past year flew by while never seeming to end. Times like this make me feel like those mid-season review episodes that are so popular on T.V.

Let’s see…. What did I do?

There were plenty of festivals, karaoke, and photo opportunities. There were goodbyes and hellos. There were some headaches and some smiles. There’s this blog that has had ups and downs, and more….

There are plenty of stories, some of which are featured here, but most are just regular old humdrum everyday occurrences. They are my favorite, but at this point, I think it is more important to reflect on what I’ve learned. Let’s hope it was worth it.

I’ve learned that globalization is less about cultural pathways and more about a homogenous way of living focused around macro-economics – the city. I think we should rename it citification.

I’ve learned to adapt.  People do things differently. What is commonplace in one area could be considered exotic in another and the process might be considered “backwards” (please pardon the term, I’ve heard it far too much). It is important to think about these things not as good or bad, but rather, different.  Adaptation is key.

I’ve learned that respect for other cultures tends to be colored by in-group bias based on what you know. Respect the out-group as you would the in-group and approach in the same way and don’t view through a foggy lens. It makes a world of difference.

I’ve learned that Earth is a big place, but it’s a forgotten footnote in the cosmos. There is so much information to learn and absorb, treasure knowledge and people.

I’ve learned that language is a wonderful thing. Perhaps the most wonderful thing there is. Play with it and, above all, enjoy!

I’ve learned to wonder. Not just to think about, but to wonder as a child does at first contact. The wonder of a toe, a rock, a cloud, self-awareness that we are not isolated islands in a frightening event horizon.

I’ve learned to appreciate communication. Blogging, writing, talking, conversing, music, movies, stories, video games, the list goes on. People are the best thing this world has to offer. I want to thank all the wonderful friends and followers that have made NihoniGo such an engaging experience. I hope you’ll stay with me for another year. There will be more stories and more questions.

Come wonder with me

Defeated Cycles

It had become a sort of pet. The web it crafted was impressive to say the least, yawning across the pathway. Looking back, it seemed fated. We went out and watched it spin creative webs full of intricate details. Spiders are one of those creatures that I have a love/hate relationship with. I find their behavior infinitely engrossing and their appearance oddly appealing. But I’m apparently a yummy meal for those arachnids with voracious appetites.

One spring after being feasted upon and stalked by a clan of wood spiders I enacted a genocidal rampage as retaliation. Thirty-six bites in five days as I slept was too much! My fury was quick and thorough once I located their castle-like nest in an old tub in the abandoned downstairs apartment. Apparently, they had moved up because of flooding due to the spring thaw.

Afterwards, I felt guilty. They were just creatures trying to make a living. We developed a peace accord and all has been fine.

Last summer I met the Praying Mantis for the first time. I had seen plenty of them in documentaries and books. Their movements and habits captured my imagination. One hot and humid summer day I returned home from a job interview and at my front door stood a small Mantis. We spent some quality time together, it danced for the camera and crawled all over me. Days went on and it grew, thriving on whatever smaller creatures it could find.

Balmy summer moved into brisk fall. I came home one evening and saw a huge Mantis on the wall near the spider’s web. It turns out it was a black and yellow garden spider. They can get pretty big; this one was a good three inches long, but the Mantis was bigger.

Night gave way to morning and still the creatures were frozen in a stalemate. The Mantis stared with uncanny stillness and absolute patience. Another night passed. In the morning the spider was gone, reduced to a pile of awkwardly strewn legs stuck in the web and littered on the ground next to a blob of something. The Mantis stuck around for another three days, then disappeared.

There is so much violence in our world. Everything kills to live, whether animal or vegetable. Humans act like animals and, if we listen to media, are no better. Everything sounds so bad. Murder here, genocide there, disagreements over there and here and all over. One group kills another group over disagreements or land or who knows what. It happens. Nature happens.

Observing animals can tell us something about ourselves. But it isn’t the whole story. Somewhere around the next corner lies a chameleon waiting to snatch the Mantis digesting a meal, and something else waiting for the chameleon, and so on.

There always seems to be something bigger or faster or better.

But we are humans. We are animals but we are more. We can and should use our abilities to work together. Sure, there will be disagreements and misunderstandings, but that is where compromise and growth come from. I’m not saying we should forget our animal nature, that would be bad; we should be keenly aware of it and learn to use all aspects of ourselves as strength rather than weakness.

Self defeat is not an option.

Hanami and Social Change

Springtime in Japan is a beautiful time full of flowers and change. Sakura spread their beautiful pink, white, and red petals everywhere. I knew there were lots of sakura around but their colorful brilliance peeks from the most mundane spaces, showcasing them from a new perspective. New spaces continue to jump from nothing. It’s quite wonderful! It makes you want to stop and create a moment to reflect.

But with spring comes the frightening concept of change. Japan is generally thought of as a conservative nation that views change with distrust. It’s a not uncommon feeling across the world. But springtime in Japan is a time of enormous social change. The school year ends in late March and the mass of graduates enter the workplace. It is also the time of transfers. Nearly every large business, both public and private, transfers employees from one site to another. For large national corporations, that could mean anywhere in Japan. For public employees, that could mean anywhere in the prefecture or whoever your employer is.

Families are sometimes separated. A wife or husband might have to transfer to the other side of the prefecture, leaving behind an empty house. Weekends become the time for family to catch up and create memories. It’s difficult for all involved.

From what I’ve seen so far, most people look at being transferred as an opportunity. Yes, there is a lot of stress and change, but with that change comes new faces, new conversations, new landscapes, and new ideas. It’s an opportunity to grow.

With spring comes change and flowers. It’s a time of new hellos and old good byes, difficult transitions and easy tradition.  As you sit below the sakura and look up at the wondrous petals, think of the past and the future. But most of all, live in the moment and take in breathtaking beauty.

In other words, stop and smell the roses (or sakura).

Reflections of Ennui

There are moments in our lives when we feel listless. That moment when you complete one task but you have no clue what comes next. Fear strikes and it cripples you to the core, disregarding all those elegantly constructed barriers.

Is it ennui? Maybe. What does ennui have to do with loneliness? Everything and nothing. But first. What is ennui?

Ennui is a wonderful sounding French word meaning trouble or boredom. The literary world has appropriated the term to illustrate the fear of quiet, unoccupied time. It asks the question, “What happens when all external input stops?”. Ennui is perpetual boredom. No matter how much we are occupied it is never enough.

In my last post, Island Wilderness, I discussed how social media contains so much information and that the lives seen there appear to be carefully crafted moments of one excitement after another. Our real life is one fail after another in comparison.

Enter ennui. We struggle to keep up with what we see. From one perspective, it is pure, unadulterated curiosity. Information overload is the cure (and cause) of ennui. Like an addiction, the more we see, the more we want, the more we need. More. More. More. I need more! Now!

Ahem…

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It’s a vicious cycle. As a cultural ambassador, I find it necessary to stay informed about my native culture. I want to remain knowledgeable about what’s happening at home so I can share and discuss, as well as to keep reverse culture shock to a minimum when I return. On the same note, I find myself more interested in local lore, history, language, and news. Which means that I’ve essentially doubled my information intake.

It’s only recently that I’ve realized this. For a long time I’ve noticed an increase in mental exhaustion and eye strain so I decided to learn more. (See, vicious cycle.) Turns out there is a bunch of science and a blathering of opinion, mine now among them, and far too many facets to ever examine the larger issue. There is just too much information.

And that is the issue. Too much. I’m contributing. You’re contributing. More people every day add to the existing pool of information. At this point it can only grow, which is neither good nor bad – it just is.

I’m of the mind that thinks humans are infinitely adaptable, and it is our greatest virtue. So I guess that means our information capacity will have to increase. But when will it stop? When does that information turn into knowledge and wisdom?

It’s too much. My brain is about to explode. But it won’t. I know it won’t because I will adapt, I must, we all must.

I resolve to face ennui head on and use it to my advantage. Information is wonderful but knowledge and wisdom is the goal. For that to happen, we need to create the time to reflect, to process. To transform that information into knowledge, and hopefully one day, wisdom.

Island Wilderness

The plague of our time, loneliness comes in many varieties. I’ve thought about it a lot over the years and even more so recently because of my current context. The reasons for loneliness are many. But there are two particular aspects that I would like to explore. Maybe because of my own acute loneliness, I think I’ll split it between two posts. Haha! Milk it for all it’s worth! This post will examine the role of social media in loneliness and the next one will look at the aspects of the literary definition of ennui.

Off we go.

I must admit, social media frightens me. I recently marked my first full year on Facebook. The only reason I joined in the first place was because it was required for one of my classes. I fought it with every fiber of my being. I even went so far as to create a presentation about why I shouldn’t join. I never had the opportunity to perform it though, because my flimsy, pathetic argument was defeated by a simple sentence uttered by my professor.

“Join the rest of the world.”

It got me thinking. I’ve never been one to do something because everyone else was doing it; the evidence wasn’t compelling enough. But this was different. There is a stark difference between choice and necessity. My pride wouldn’t allow me to be left behind. So here I am. Facebook and WordPress in full glory. I haven’t warmed up to any other social networks yet because I can barely keep up with those two.

But even still, with all this extraordinary connectivity and information access, studies tell us that we are lonelier than ever. What does that mean? Why are we lonely? I think it comes down to quantity and immediacy.

That’s a lot of flowers!

There’s a good chance that your friend list occupies a space much larger than the number of people you interact with daily. You spend time browsing (read stalking) the majority while you interact actively with a select few. Sounds like real life, except that most people probably don’t compile a friend list and receive reminders about what they’re doing. You know what everyone is doing immediately so you don’t have to ask when you see them. Because, apparently, what happens on Facebook, stays on Facebook. It leaves little room for physical interaction.

It desensitizes us, numbs us to physical interaction. There is so much happening on Facebook that physical life pales in comparison. Imagine if you physically ran into every person you scrolled by in your news feed. Time would disappear. It would take significant conversation to finally get to the content that most users post. Nobody says hello or goodbye; it’s as though the conversation never ends. Never.

Whatever our reasons for social media, the medium is quite wonderful, even considering the significant shortcomings. Social media represents a convenient place where people can talk and interact. I think social media can make us feel lonely. But I don’t think it will ever replace physical interaction. It just can’t.

For a good read I recommend Isaac Asimov’s “The Naked Sun”. It explores a planet that has forgone physical contact to the degree that it has become a cultural characteristic. I think it is one of Asimov’s more compelling explorations of human interaction.

Stay tuned for the next post. “Oh, you apathetic ennui”

The Ones We Love

Pain. Hurt.

I admit that writing a blog is extremely difficult. It isn’t the writing part; it is the what-to-post part. A blog should be cohesive to its primary theme. Like a story, extraneous parts rest on the cutting room floor.

Time. Dedication.

Cutting those posts or sections is a labor of tough love for the better of the whole. (It appears that I am full of clichés today.) For me, that is every one of the last seven posts I have written in my notebook. They exist. But are they worthy?

Alienation. Snubbed.

They languish for a time in a lonely notebook with the only friends being other likely candidates. They wait and wonder. They question their existence.

Unknown. Blind.

As a writer, process is everything to me. I know that not everything I produce will be good. I need the bad in order for the good to shine. I must write badly in order to write well.

Lost. Rebirth.

Sometimes those notebooks call out to me. Old ones full of dust and filled pages. A piece of paper with meaningful marks on it is a thing of beauty, a notebook even more so. Crack them open and feel the spirit of the pages, the texture, the smell.

Memories. Intent.

Communication is about expressing ideas. It can be clumsy or eloquent. Either way, the core idea is the most important aspect. Some ideas are crusty and stale, but others hold onto a brilliance that outshines the yellowed pages.

Beginning. Ending.

The end of something completes its story. But stories have no end. They are like coins. Spend them and they are gone, left for someone else to possess. But unlike a coin, which leaves you for good and is quickly forgotten, a story sticks with you, changes you, absorbs you.

Revise. Retry.

This is not the end. It is never the end. Dust off those old scripts, those derelict posts, those musty poems, those sentimental journal entries, those unsent letters. Relive them and love them.

Downwind in an Interconnected World

I’ve now experienced bad pollution for the first time in my life. Oh, I’ve smelled my share of exhaust fumes and fuel, but never has the sky become hazy, nor have health warnings been posted. The big question: Where is it coming from?

Picture taken in Fall 2012, pretty clear sky.

The heavy pollution in the sky appeared suddenly. And just as suddenly, people began talking about PM 2.5. What was this mystery particle? A quick search told me more than I ever would want to know. Apparently, PM 2.5 is prevalent in city areas, with Beijing, China being a place with some of the highest concentrations in the world. But how did it impact me, over 1000 miles away as the crow flies? Wind, of course. Nothing new. The wind carries it over and adds to the already present air pollution, making it much worse. City hall has issued warnings and we are told to wear facemasks.

Picture taken in Spring 2013, the sky appears hazy.

It isn’t a horrible thing but I find myself a little angry. The actions of people far away are having a direct impact on me. It’s nothing new, countless decision are made every day about things that I’ll never know, either too complex for me to understand or too removed for me to engage. I don’t like to harbor that apathy, but I find it necessary because I can’t engage everything. None of us can.

One winter evening I decided to take a walk on a private beach. It was unseasonably warm and waves were splashing lazily against the shoreline. I walked out onto the wooden dock. In a few weeks the water would be frozen solid. As I stood there, the sky began a slow, complex dance with an array of gray and green ribbons of light.

I was transfixed by the beauty and time ran away as I meditated.

Later, I found out that somebody saw me that evening. I was approached by a common acquaintance who told me that the person who saw me was frightened. I had no clue. I was minding my own business in what I thought was a peaceful way, but I still hurt someone.

It taught me that we don’t live in a vacuum. The things we do impact those close to us as well as those far away and even our best intentions can cause harm. I think it is important to think about how our actions impact others, but it is also important not to let that stop you from making decisions.

My initial reaction was to insulate myself from the world. It was wrong. All it did was hurt me and those closest to me. I know now it wasn’t the right action to take. I should have made it right and continued living and communicating.

As far as PM 2.5. I hope that the dangerous levels that are being experienced will spark a clean energy revolution across the globe. We can’t disengage from the world and hope that things will repair themselves. We must engage.

Insider/Outsider

The puzzles media tell.

I read a news article the other day about a man that burned and killed his six children in a home fire while trying to murder his wife, thirty years his junior.  She apparently had an abortion because she was pregnant by another man. I was appalled.

As I read the article I found myself thinking certain things that I am not proud of because it illustrated some deep-seated clichés and assumptions. I thought I left those behind. Obviously not. As I continued reading I formed a picture in my head of the characters and setting. I am ashamed by the scene I crafted. But after hearing and reading nothing but bad news about America for nearly a year, I immediately assumed the worst. To my relief, the story did not happen in America. Not. In. America. I realize now that it isn’t important where it happened. It could have happened virtually anywhere, but it was a story that I associated with a fabricated, shallow view of America.

Even though I am from America and spent thirty-three years there, in less than a year away my view of the country has changed dramatically. In my heart I know that each story is but a small blip on the radar of a much larger narrative that is impossible to understand. We learn from stories; they can inform our feelings. But stories are only an entry point into something greater than all of us. Culture. You know, how yogurt and cheese are created. Oh, and that funny thing that clings to each community with so much resilience.

The snippets of culture we get from the news and media do not paint an accurate picture. Don’t get me wrong, it paints a picture, but like a puzzle, many pieces are missing, usually the good parts – the main course.

Please bear with me.

I think often back to when I was in America preparing for the big move to Japan. Almost everybody had their opinion; they knew everything about Japan and weren’t afraid to share. There were books, fiction novels, and travel guides. There were movies and documentaries. All of them showed me something about Japan. Some of it true, most of it false. Granted, all information needs to be taken with a grain of salt and a few filters.

Was any of it accurate? Yes and no. On a very shallow level it’s all true, but once I started wandering the streets I began to discover the slippery interior pieces of the puzzle. I’m sure I’ll never discover them all but that’s part of the fun. And just like building a puzzle, I tend to find the edge pieces first and move in from there, finding some pieces by luck and others by sheer force of will. Sometimes, I try to force unruly pieces into uniform slots but those stubborn things keep popping out.

I’ve become an outsider and it is frightening. My home country has become foreign and my host country is foreign. I guess I’ll just keep searching for those evasive puzzle pieces.