Through the Storm

We all go through dark times in our lives.

We see the storm brewing.

We wait to see what is to come.

As the sky goes from blue to black...

...we look back to see a violent storm.

We have arrived somewhere new.

We enter into places we would rather not.

Our world has changed.

Washed away.

But as the storm subsides...

...love remains.

Five Faces

     What do you think of when someone mentions Japan? Do technology and games come to mind? Maybe samurai warriors flow from your imagination. Perhaps beautiful flowering plantlife or endless rice fields stretch as far as the mind wanders.
     Many people would argue which of these best represents the "strange little island." Over the course of the past month, I have been able to visit five major cities that represent significant differences in sub-cultures and atmospheres. I do not believe any of these are more or less important than the others. Each represents a part of Japan, just as pertinent to its culture as any other city.
   
     Similarly, we all wear many faces through different chapters of our lives, in different settings, and sometimes simply with different people. Please do not misunderstand me. This by no means suggests we are all two-faced and liars. Rather, it suggests that there is more to each of us than what can be seen on the surface.
     As I explore the relevance of each city, I can't help but think of how their representations are paralleled in our own lives.

Tokyo
     Tokyo is a modern city. It is cosmopolitan. It has many different parts that all have specific tasks. It has a strong tradition in its castle area, a burgeoning technology in Electric Town, the tried and true businesses in Shinjuku, continued commerce in its world-renowned fish market, and awareness of self in a 47-story free observatory at its Metro Building. This is the first city that comes to mind for many who visit Japan.
     In the same way, when others think of who we are, it is the face we show them. It is the face that holds some tradition, but adapts to new situations. It is the face that relies on what has worked for us in the past, while trying to share with others what we have developed of ourselves. It is the face that stares back at us from the mirror.

Kyoto
     When I asked the hostel owner what there was to see in Kyoto she pointed out seven different sites on a map. Five of these were historical temples or shrines. Kyoto is what we see in the movies. It is the old buildings. It is the cultural hub of ancient Japan. It offers a glimpse into what has made Japan what it was in the past and has become today.
     This city represents our deeper traditions. There are deeper roots within us than many of us realize. There is a face that holds onto not only what has worked, but what has become our purpose. There is a part of us that says, "This is who I am." It does not matter if we say it out loud or to ourselves. It is always there nonetheless.

Osaka
     This city is described as being the major rival to Tokyo. It is a city that historically was founded by and for merchants, rather than samurai. It is and has always been a city of commerce. With Tokyo representing Japan as it is, Kyoto representing Japan as it was, Osaka represents Japan as it will be... or so everybody in Osaka will tell you anyway.
     Just as Osaka believes it is the city of the future for Japan, we all dream of a person we would like to one day be. It is this face that we try to share with others intentionally. We do our best each day to live as the individual we hope to become. While holding onto the purposes that have brought us this far, we all continually look for ways to adapt and evolve. Ever becoming a greater version of ourselves in the process.

Hiroshima
     No visit to Japan would be complete without visiting Hiroshima. It is described as the trip that every person on the planet should take at least once in their life. It is heavy. It is hard to visit the Peace Memorial Park and see all the monuments for countless types of people's who were killed. It is heartbreaking walking through the museum and the victims' information center to hear first-hand stories of how this terrible event effected individual innocent lives. But it is overwhelmingly inspiring to appreciate that the park is open 24/7/365. The museum is free to the public everyday of the year. Hiroshima has led the fight against war around the world. The city did not rally to blame anyone. They did not cry out for retribution. In their suffering they found their own voice and stand unified in sharing it with the whole world: "No more Hiroshimas."
     While these monuments, efforts, and information can demonstrate the need for peace, we can never know the extent of the suffering each individual felt dealing with the repercussions of the first nuclear bombing. However, we can find in ourselves suffering and turmoil that often feels like nobody could understand. In our suffering, we mourn. In our suffering, we unite with others who share experiences similar to ours. And, most importantly, if we can find the strength that this community found, in our suffering we find hope to fight for it to never happen again.

Itoshima
     Itoshima is a seaside city that most people have never heard of. It is a beautiful agricultural community that is surrounded by sprawling green hills and long sand beaches. While it is mostly unknown, it produces much of Japan's vegetables and houses the world-renowned Ichiran Ramen factory. Life is slow here.
     Our place of peace within ourselves often goes unnoticed by others. There is a part of us that is simply who it is. There is a part of us that accepts things simply as they are. This is our face of peace. And though most people we interact with will never know where it comes from, this place of peace is where our productivity comes from. This is the face that provides for most of the others.

A Walk in the Park

Atomic Bomb Dome

 At 8:15am on 6th August 1945, the first atomic bomb in human history was dropped on Hiroshima. Although, the Atomic Bomb Dome was located almost directly underneath the explosion, it somehow avoided complete destruction and the remains of the building still stand today. The residents of Hiroshima decided to keep this tragic reminder of war intact. The site was designated as a World Heritage Site in 1996.

Atomic Bomb Memorial Mound

The Atomic Bomb Memorial Mound is a large, grass-covered knoll that contains the cremated ashes of 70,000 unidentified victims of the bomb.

Korean Cenotaph

When the atomic bomb was dropped the lives of more than 20,000 Koreans were suddenly taken. Within the monument’s stone chest is a register bearing 2,663 names of Korean A-bomb victims who have been identified.

Memorial Cenotaph

The names of all those who lost their lives are inscribed inside the central stone vault regardless of nationality. It currently holds more than 290,000 names of those who lost their lives to the bomb and new names are discovered and added to the list every year.

Mother and Child in the Storm

Monument of the A-Bombed Teachers and Students of Elementary Schools

Children's Peace Monument

This monument was dedicated on Children's Day, 1958, to Sadako Sasaki, who was exposed to the atomic bombing when she was 2 years old. She developed leukemia ten years later and passed away. Shocked by her death, her classmates put out a national call to "build a monument to mourn all the children who died from the atomic bombing." With the support of students in more than 3,100 schools throughout Japan and nine other countries, including Great Britain, this 9 m-high bronze statue was completed.

Standing on the top of the three-legged dome pedestal is the bronze figure of a girl holding up a gold-colored folded paper crane. On the left and right flanks of the pedestal are suspended boy and girl figures symbolizing a bright future and hope. The stone underneath the pedestal is inscribed, "This is our cry. This is our prayer. For building peace in this world."

Peace Bell

This was installed with the aim of abolishing nuclear weapons and bringing about world peace. Cast by expert bell-caster and national treasure Masahiko Katori, a world map without national borders is on the surface of the bell to symbolize a single, unified world. People are free to strike the bell, so please take the opportunity to do so with a prayer for world peace.

New Leaves

Naked

     That's how traveling alone can feel sometimes. You feel out of place. You feel exposed. You feel unprotected. You feel vulnerable.
     Even with these feelings, you wonder sometimes whether or not you are getting a truly authentic cultural experience. There are a few questions you can ask to to discern how representative your experience really is:
     Are there locals here?
     Are the locals here speaking primarily in their native language?
     Do they express surprise that I am here with them?
     Am I the only foreigner here?
   
     An experience I had at a Japanese Onsen drove this point home succinctly. I knew my cultural experience was off to a good start when the receptionist didn't speak a word of English. I further knew that I was getting an authentic experience because the brochure she handed me to explain what couldn't be verbalized was also fully in Japanese. Through a series of pantomimes and pointing at pictures we were able to communicate to one another well enough.
     I took the bag she had given me with the towel and pajamas into the locker room. I tried several lockers wondering at how many of them were being used until I realized the wrist strap she gave me had a key tucked into it with a number on it. I found the corresponding locker and opened it right up. I put on the pajamas and started to make my way into the mineral pool area.
     "Where am I supposed to put these clothes and my towel when I am in the mineral pool?" I thought to myself.
     My answer revealed itself abruptly. As I walked in, everyone was staring at me. Some looked at me disapprovingly while others looked at me with pity, but all eyes were on me when I entered the room. I was the only man with any clothes on at all.
     "So this is how it's done," I realized.
     I walked back to the locker room and put the pajamas back into the locker. Taking only my towel with me this time, I returned to the mineral pools. I drew a few looks this time when entering the area, but they quickly turned away. Nothing strange was occurring.
     "Ok," I thought.
     I went back and forth between the scalding hot mineral pools, the frigid cold water pool, the blistering dry sauna, and the cleansing wet sauna for a couple of hours. During this time I began to notice certain courtesies that were used even in this most vulnerable environment.
     Men covered themselves with their towels until they were actually getting into the pools.
     Although the pools were generally large and could easily fit several people, most men would give each other a pool to themselves unless there were no other pools available.
     When sitting in a pool and noticing someone is waiting, a man would be considerate about not taking too much time before allowing the other man to have the pool after him.
     The towels were placed upon one's head while in a pool, so that it does not lie around outside in someone else's way.

     As I noticed these courtesies I also tried to implement them in my own behavior. Not only did I get less of a feeling that I was an outsider, but I even got a few bows of gratitude as I gave up a pool to someone new. I returned them in kind.
     It was an interesting experience that demonstrates that even at our most vulnerable we can make connections with one another. It is when we are stripped of all of the ways that we thought defined us that we are free to discover how we relate to one another.
     We can learn without being taught.
     We can express ourselves without words.
     We can demonstrate our personality without relying on appearance.
     We can adapt without being forced to.

     Perhaps it is at our most vulnerable that we are truly free to connect with one another.

In the Stillness

     As I finish up my shower, it feels strange to crawl directly into a big bathtub. I pull the top closed above me and rythmic music begins to be heard. It takes a moment of being in the water to realize that I don't have to make myself float. The salinity is so thick that all I have to do is just lie there. The music continues playing for another five minutes before I push the button on the side that turns off the light. Now there is just the rythmic music in the darkness. I feel muscles I didn't know were tense relax. The music continues for another five minutes before it fades out completely. Now there is just the darkness.
     Every breath is like the tide. I am fully aware of each time the breath moves through my nose and down into my lungs. There is a pause for just the briefest of moments. Then I am just as aware when my lungs give way to push it back out the same way it came in. My heartbeat is a metronome, ticking quietly in the background but always there nonetheless.

     In the darkness my thoughts begin to wander. I reflect on my life as it is, as it has been, and as I would like it to be. Faces join me in the dark. Friendly faces that I know have passed on already, but despite their passing they feel close nevertheless. I smile at each of them and feel it is returned. I find myself praying in the midst of an ever-changing cacophony of transcendent images. My prayers begin as they always do, with what I hope to receive. But as they continue, they evolve. The prayers of longing become prayers of gratitude for opportunity. These evolve further into prayers of gratitude for what I have been blessed with already and the wondrous experience that this life has been.
     Slowly this fades as well. Thoughts no longer have words attached to them. My breathing slows. Though I am still aware of it, the rythm has changed. It is slower and quieter. I am alone in the darkness, now without even my thoughts. I am simply overwhelmed... with gratitude.

     I rest easily, scarcely aware that it is happening.

     The music begins again. What starts as a whisper grows to chant. It is raising my awareness of the world around me. Deep drums beat to a steady rythm in the darkness. I enjoy their company. This continues for another ten minutes to signify to me that my time is finished here. I reach up into blackness and find a handle. I push it open and the light rushes in. I step out and rinse the salt from my body. Putting the same clothes on when I arrived, I am more aware of how each fabric touches my skin.
     I express my gratitude to the proprietor and make my way outside. Walking along the street, I find that my attention is drawn to the grass and the flowers whereas when I arrived my attention was always on the storefronts facing the street. Along the way back to the apartment, I am acutely aware through my shirt of when the sun is shining or shaded. I noticed flower patterns I have not seen in the previous three weeks I stayed here.

     What a wonder it is to see the world for what it is. How incredible to be fully aware of each individual movement my body makes. What a blessing it is to know that when everything is taken from our senses, the only thing left is gratitude.

Keep Climbing

Though you may not where the path will end, but it seems to be clear in front of you... keep climbing.

When the path is overgrown and the forest seems to be closing in... keep climbing.

As obstacles contort the path in front of you... keep climbing.

When you have the opportunity to see how far you have come, soak it in... keep climbing.

As the goals you set are just ahead... keep climbing.

To know what awaits you at the top of the mountain, you just have to do one simple thing... keep climbing.

Deeper Waters

     As I sink under the water, the world disappears from my vision. Liquid overwhelms every one of my five senses. My world has become so much smaller. Now my field of vision is scarcely 10-15 feet. I drift downward, knowing nothing of what the depths have in store for me. Slowly, the sea floor emerges. At first, it seems chaotic, without pattern or reason. Steadily, however, minute systems begin to take shape. Sea anemones lie in wait for their prey. Scuttlefish scurry across the sandy surface. Crabs crawl carelessly over the fields of kelp. Eels guard themselves under deep cover of holes in the rock. To the discerning eye, life is not only present but abundant.
   
     I have been blessed with many experiences that embody what people imagine diving to be. These experiences have been filled with beautiful fish, warm waters, and clear visibility. This is my first dive into the colder waters. My previous dives brought me many joyful experiences, but the life I witnessed today could not have lived in the warm tropical environments. I know that I was not there to bring light. I was not there to bring warmth. I was not there to bring any of these creatures with me to a beautiful paradise. I was simply there to be with them and appreciate them.
     I cannot help but notice the way this parallels my life right now. For many years, my sister had been separated from our family. We did not speak or visit. While we wondered how life was for her, it simply remained apart from us. It was cold. Now, however, we have spent the past three weeks together. We have visited. We have enjoyed our time together. We have loved one another. There has been no revelation that cleared all misunderstandings. There has been no miraculous healing of rifts or sudden blooms of life. There has simply been presence together. Nothing more. And nothing less.
     I am so grateful.
     I imagine this analogy spreading itself to more than just my relationship with my sister. I imagine how it looks throughout all of my life's relationships. There is beautiful life to be found near the surface. It is vibrant. It is colorful. It is pleasing to the eye and idealized in stories. But there is also life well below what we can see. There is life in the murky waters. There is life that prefers the cold. There is life that disdains the light from above and recoils at the sun's rays. There is life beyond our idealized settings. There is life where many of us believe to be none.
   
     We do not enter these spaces to bring warmth. We do not enter these spaces to bring light. We do not enter these spaces to bring some miraculous exodus. The life here is built for the depths and there it remains. I thank God that I can simply be present with it. I thank God that I can simply witness it's beauty beneath a surface that only appears foreboding. And I know now that when others let us enter the deeper places where their hearts reside, it is not to draw their hearts to the surface but rather to simply be present with them.
     I thank God for this revelation. I thank Him for the realization that sunlight, vibrant colors, and swarms of pleasing visions have their place, but beneath the shallows life continues to abound in the darkness, inhabiting the cold, and filling the depths.
     Where we can see life, there is beautiful life. Where we cannot see life, there is also beautiful life. If only we have the courage to be present with it. I have enjoyed my time in the shallows, but, from now on, I will also appreciate the very different kinds of life that can only be found in the deeper waters.