RheAnn in Japan

I have an interesting relationship with tea. (It's a long, sad story, actually. If you ask me, I'll tell ya some time.)
In moving to Japan, one thing I was most excited about…was tea! Maybe that sounds trite, but it's TRUE! Western marketing had informed me that tea is a big deal over here…and not just in the ceremonial sense, which I also knew to be true. Packages of organic or flavored teas on the Whole Foods shelves often offered assemblages of calligraphy, symbols, and images of Japan or Japanese-inspired names. "In Japan, everyone drinks delicious tea beside their Zen gardens," I deduced from the selection. And at the tea house in Boulder, I often gravitated to the leaves the menu cited as being of Japanese origin. "The tea from Japan must be the BEST," was kinda my underlying motivation, I think. So, yeah. I wanted to get here and immerse myself in the tasting of and learning about r e a l l y g o o d t e a s!! …But ya know what? That's not so easily done when you don't speak or read the language…and when you don't arrive with some basis of knowledge about the thing you so want to learn! (How do you ask a question about something without understanding it at least a little??) So…I was relegated to the same ol', same ol' tea bags of yore and the standard hot, green tea and occasional special cups of "exotic" teas when visiting other people in their homes.

Sick but happy (with my Japanese language class at karaoke)

Enter the afore-mentioned support system. I finally spoke up to a few select people about the sorrow, stress, and loneliness I was experiencing and each person responded in their own loving fashion to reassure and encourage me. (To know/remember that you are loved is perhaps the finest and most powerful medicine in the world.) This morning I got a really nice e-mail from a friend. He didn't take the route of merely fluffing my ego, sensing—I think—that when you're down in the dumps, there ain't much to fluff! ;) Instead, he basically said, "Yeah, your life is not what it once was. Your body is not what it once was. You are struggling...but there is joy to be had in even this. Make this time of your life a 'Renaissance of RheAnn.' Read, observe, write, create, be!" It really put things into perspective…immediately! I've been holding on so tightly to this IDEA I had of who I was, who I am, who I "should" be, what I'm doing, where I am, where I'm going, how I'd like my life…that I completely LOST myself when things didn't play out like the pictures on the tea boxes and the movies in my mind…
Even with all the good and AMAZING things that have happened in these past four and a half months, I was feeling alone and sick and powerless to make change. The shadows were overtaking the light. …But when I think about the light that remained…it was precisely as my friend had suggested—in the joys of learning and/or creating something! Just this past weekend, I returned to Kunitachi to visit Mr. and Mrs. Koike for my pottery lesson. I am studying the style of renowned artist Oribe because I saw it in a book on my first visit and fell in LOVE with it.  (The Koikes specialize in these techniques.)  Saturday I finally painted the chawan (tea bowl) I made on my first visit in May.  Mr. Koike pointed to an image he thought I should emulate and seated me in front of a bowl of chalky liquid and rustic brushes.  Though it was my first time to use this medium...I took to it like Alec Baldwin hosting SNL or Quincy Jones winning a Grammy.  You'd have thought I was born doing it! ;)  And here's what I realized.  Here's why I so adore my studies with the Koikes.  ...My pace is perfect.  I don't go too fast or slow.  No one wishes I'd speed up or slow down.  What I'm doing is exactly fine.  There are flexible parameters.  I have the tendency to become overwhelmed by possibility at times.  In this artform, I have the guidelines and the materials, but also limitless creative freedom WITHIN those guidelines.  I don't have to worry about anything.  I can't even UNDERSTAND my teachers! :)  When I am painting and when I am working with the clay, I am allowed to be without thought, and I mean it!  I sit there using a part of my brain that is otherwise never uninterrupted.  ...It's remarkable.  The end result is out of my contol.  In the Oribe style, it is said that "with God's blessing, you will make a good piece."  This is because the raw materials used in the glaze undergo a chemical reaction when fired in the kiln and the ways they drip or bubble and the colors that are made are all unpredictable.  ...I rather like that I can put hours of my effort toward making a "masterpiece" and leave not knowing what I've made.
So when I got that email from my friend today, everything kinda shifted for me.  I took off of school, put on my eye mask and my earplugs--which I  used to ALWAYS use, but haven't for a couple months--and I stretched out and slept soooo hard. I haven't slept like that since I've lived here! Then I got up and did some simple yoga. ...I haven't exercised in a couple months either, so it felt like I was breaking out of hard shell--like a cicada leaving its old skin.  ..And aren't I?
I spent the remainder of my day reading and writing and reconnecting with people I love.
During this "Renaissance of RheAnn," I will go at my own pace, releasing any expectation that may lead me toward disappointment in myself.  I will learn about tea and I will write things that matter to me and if I'm the dumbest in my class, I won't mind because I will learn in my own time.  I'm going to find what I lost.
 I nearly lost me there.

A cicada (or"semi") fashion show in Kunitachi

I didn't feel great, but I DID have a very special Fourth of July on the beach in Enoshima,

August 12--
Maybe this misconception is mine alone, but when I imagined needing medical attention here in Japan, I imagined I'd be offered a smorgasbord of so-called "Eastern" methods and remedies.  I thought I'd be told, "Burn this," "Drink this," "Adopt this diet," "Apply this," "Recite this," "Inhale this," "Poke this needle here," or "Do this type of stretch."  I imagined a world of alternative cure-alls--tinctures and ancient herbs, neti pots and detoxification, yoga and deep breathing.
Never in a million years did I imagine the style of "Western" medicine I'd encounter.  People live longer here in Japan. With no disrespect to the doctors of this nation, I suspect this truth has more to do with genetics, diet, and overall lifestyle than anything to do with modern medicine.
I have personally been ill almost consistently since my arrival.  At first it was digestive issues.  Then I developed what appeared to be an infection on my face.  I also wasn't sleeping very well.  I tried to tough it out but after two months of intense pain, I asked my friend to help me find an English-speaking doctor.  Believing my condition warranted immediate attention and that going to a doctor she knew and trusted would be a better choice than seeking out an unknown based merely on language, she took me instead to a friend's family doctor in my neighborhood and accompanied me to translate.  She described to this kind-looking man my symptoms at which point he gave a knowing nod and ordered a series of blood tests.  "Her problem," he said resolutely after noticing a tattoo on my arm, "is Hepatitis C."  Hmm.  This didn't sit well with me.  I have a years old tattoo and therefore I suddenly have a blood-born and possibly fatal illness?  Highly unlikely, Doc, but I'll play along. I figured if there WAS something wrong with my blood--due to change in diet or hormonal imbalance or whathaveyou--that it too would show up in these tests.  Regarding the infection on my face, the doctor told my friend, "She's just stressed because she's a single woman who came so far from her home."  Hmm.  Again, not exactly the sound diagnosis for which I was hoping, BUT I walked next door to have my prescriptions filled.  All of the pills and information bore only Japanese labelling and instructions, so I was looking through them during the car ride home so I could ask my friend any questions.  Okay.  This one is for my stomach and I take it three times a day.  Okay, and this one? Oh, okay, also for my stomach and I take it three times a day.  ...But what's this one???  I held up a little packet of pills to my companion.  "I don't know.  Maybe it's to help you sleep?"  The dosage is three times a day... Why would I take a sleeping pill at breakfast?  She examined the pharmacy documents more closely.  "Oh!  It's an antidepressant."  WHAT??? I met this doctor for the first time and was not even able to talk to him much less at any length and without any discussion about my mental well-health, he decides I'm stressed and depressed and need medication??  Not cool.  I felt I'd time travelled to the 1950's or something--where women were patted on the hand and issued tranquilizers for every malady and complaint and having a tattoo was considered dangerous and dirty.  ...I took the medications--afraid NOT to in my poor condition--but I descended into an even sicker state!  For 3 days I was completely unable to eat or even really function!  I slept all night wrapped in a blanket on the floor of my toilet room because my nausea was so intense.
Clearly this isn't working out.  Let's try again.
The results of my blood tests showed that everything seemed to be just fine with my blood--good liver function, balanced nutrition, AND...no Hepatitis. ;)  I asked my friend to take me to an English-speaking doctor for further evaluation of my stomach ailments.  She knew a doctor near her house who specialized in digestive issues.  Okay.  A specialist would be good...even if he DOESN'T speak English.  So we paid him a visit.  He was another kindly old gentleman.  He looked me in the eyes and seemed to want to come to the root of my problem.  He poked on me a lot and asked my friend a lot of questions, only to agree that the now worsening infection on my face was not an infection but generated from stress and that all my poor little tummy issues were caused by a virus.  A virus that I've had for nearly TWO MONTHS?  That sounds a smidge unlikely, but we'll see.  I again abided by doctor's orders to the tune of no improvement.  I was getting very concerned.
I should point out, by the way, that I wasn't even feeling particularly stressed!  I'm sure there was stress playing out in my body regarding the uprooting and replanting of my life and self, but by and large and far and away...I was really HAPPY!  I looooooooooooved (and still love) Japan and my house and my job and my new friends and the possibility of new experiences each and every day and the synchronistic way in which all things seemed to fall into place.  I wasn't worried or sad or overwhelmed.   ...I just had chronic stomach pain, poor digestion, irregular sleep patterns, and a rapidly spreading collection of swollen blemishes on every quadrant of my face.  I wanted someone to listen to me.  I wanted someone to help me.

Even feeling poorly, I love and adore my job and my students!!  (This is Kian.  She's brilliant.)

At the end of May, a member from one of our churches located an international clinic near my train line.  I went to this office on my own and met a very sweet doctor who spoke a little bit of English and could understand me pretty well when I spoke very slowly.  She looked sad when I told her how badly I felt about myself because of the marks on my face, but when I said I thought it was an infection, she said, "We'll worry about that after we get your stomach taken care of.  That's more important right now."  I suppose I can't argue with that.  They say the third times a charm, and in my case, this ended up being true.  This doctor gave me natural medicines and regimens and within a few days, I was eating again!  I felt great!!
I put off worrying about my face for over a month--even though the condition was DEFINITELY worsening, and even though my self-esteem was taking a major hit.  When a pink splotch appeared on my shoulder, though, I started to get very nervous.  This patch spread quickly and felt very, very hot to the touch.  I found an English-speaking dermatologist online and took a nearly 2 hour train ride to her clinic.  She was really cool and easy to talk to.  I told her I thought I had an infection.  ...She lectured me for 5 full minutes about how I need to eat meat and how my complexion problems were a result of my not getting enough protein in my diet. Wait a second.  ...What??  I've been virtually meatless for 17 years and COMPLETELY vegetarian for over FOUR years with absolutely no problem, but suddenly all of my issues stem from the need for meat in my diet?!  ...Nevermind that a Japanese doctor tested my blood with *stellar* results only a few weeks ago!  She wouldn't hear it.  I'd need to undergo a battery of tests to determine my hormone levels and any food allergies I might have and also, she was certain, how desperately I needed protein.  Okay.  This would be good information to have, actually.  ...And at least she's being proactive in treating me instead of shrugging it all off as "stress."  So, even though her clinic did not accept my insurance and the tests and treatments she was ordering would be very expensive, I agreed to comply.   ...Then she looked at the pink splotch on my shoulder...and she FREAKED out!!  "This is very serious!!  Why haven't you seen a doctor before now??" she screeched.  "Well...as I explained...I actually saw THREE doctors before now, and..."  "We need to get you on an IV right away!  Do you realize that if you'd waited even another week to be treated for this infection, you would be HOSPITALIZED?"  ::gulp::
I subjected to the IV and a couple other "necessary" procedures and purchased medicine directly from reception.  (The doctor wouldn't write a prescription for me to take to a pharmacy where I could use my insurance.  Hmm.  That's inconvenient.  But I was scared, so I complied fully.)  I and my bandaged shoulder made the two hour train ride home, where I checked my email and received a message from this clinic that essentially said, "Miss White, we've researched your condition more thoroughly and have discovered it is even more serious than we'd previously thought.  You need to visit any clinic for the next 7 days and receive an IV."  Okay.  I'm filing this under "HORRIBLE News."  What the heck am I gonna do?  I don't have time or money for such treatment...and what do I even have??  (The term she provided in the e-mail was "plegmone," which I couldn't find anywhere!  But I did find "phlegmon(e)" which led me to THIS video...which led me to nearly have a heart attack.)  Is this what will happen to my FACE??????
I did a little cryin' and a little prayin' and a little bit of "I wanna go hooooome"-in' and then I sent out a few dozen e-mails to friends, family, and supporters, asking for their prayers....which is when it hit me!  If I were in the States and I got a serious diagnosis that I didn't really understand, I'd want a second opinion!  So that's what I set about trying to find.  I mapped the train route to a clinic I'd wanted to visit in the first place, but was closed during the time I had available.  This time, I decided to MAKE time!  I skipped language school the next morning to head to Kyodo.  This was the best decision I could have made.  My new doctor, who received some of his training from Harvard, promises on his website to explain everything as clearly as possible and not to move forward with treatment with which the patient is not entirely comfortable.  So during my introductory visit, I regaled him with the lengthy story shared here.  He shook his head and looked down.  Oh no.  I've said something wrong.  I've offended him by questioning the expertise of his colleagues.  Or maybe he AGREES with these other doctors!  Oh no...  "I am so sorry you've experienced such inexcusable treatment," he said, sincerely.  "Three months is a long time to feel badly and to be worried and there is no reason that you should have been talked to or treated the way you have, so I just first want to apologize.  This must have been very difficult for you."  ...I nearly cried!  "Thank you.  Yes.  Yes, it has been very tough."  The new doctor re-examined the infection on my face and shoulder.  "How did this other doctor arrive at her diagnosis?" he asked.  I thought about this and realized... She hadn't even TOUCHED it!  She had me terrified that I had this deadly infection, and she hadn't run ANY tests or done any type of examination aside from a quick naked eye inspection.  "I think it's best to find out what we're treating before we engage in anything too dramatic, don't you?"  Uh huh! "So let's run some tests and keep close watch on your symptoms and figure out where we want to go from there."  He took some blood and wrote me some prescriptions, apologizing that I'd already paid full price for medicine I didn't need from the other clinic.
Bit by bit, the infection has been healing.  I've never so perfectly adhered to doctor's orders in my LIFE!  I feel very, very lucky that I found this doctor when I did!
About a week into treatment, I was at the beach with my good friend Hugh.  We were having (Don't laugh.) an existential experience in the waves at night--feeling the smallness and hugeness and history and impermanence of "NOW."  Suddenly during our shared philosophical mind-knitting, I turned to him and said, "I don't want to alarm you, but my legs are really burning...like...I've been bitten or stung by something..."  He said he felt that too, and since we couldn't see anything in the blackness of the water in the dark, we decided to just make a run for it and bolted to the shore.  We examined our wounds by the light of my iPhone.  Mine covered far more surface area--the tentacles of some kind of jellyfish apparently having wrapped around both of my legs.  I tried to behave as though nothing was wrong, but within minutes I was dizzy and falling over.  Then I was stricken by panic, so we left the beach immediately.  ...THEN I became very nauseated and had to jump off the train at some random station to be sick.  I felt blessed to make it home that night.
Hugh's sting marks were gone within a day, but mine continued to worsen, growing bigger and redder and hotter and itching quite a bit.  I even missed another day of school because of it!
When I visited my doctor for my follow-up visit last week, I showed him the marks.  He said, "It appears you've had a very bad reaction to the venom!  I believe it would have been much, much worse for you if you had not been on the antihistamines I prescribed for your infection."
...
So there ya go!  Here I'd been for months and months complaining and feeling increeeeeedibly self-conscious about this face infection, but in the end...that infection, or at least the treatment FOR that infection, may very well have prevented me from experiencing full-on anaphylactic shock!!
(Did I mention that I love synchronicity??)

Hugh and I on our way to the beach, oblivious to the trouble that would befall us. (Notice my bandaged shoulder?)

So I set about continued improvement, feeling quite amazed and lucky and optimistic.  But a couple days later, the marks on my legs again began to swell and itch--looking MUCH grosser and hurting MUCH more this time.  Then I started feeling fatigued and had a bit of a scratchy throat. :(
By this past Monday, I'd completely lost my voice and was beyond unwell.  This time around I've missed 3 days of school.  ::sigh::
My friend took me back to the "specialist."  (I put this in quotations because I don't think he's a gastroenterologist, so I don't know what his "specialty" actually is, only that he also practices general medicine.)  THIS time I came with a sheet of origami paper on the back of which I'd written out eeeeeeeeeeverything this doctor could possibly need to know.  ...Good move, me!!  This was much better than expecting my friend to remember and relay every little thing to this physician.  He was actually able to read the document himself and looked up the decongestant ingredient I'd named as having been a problem for me in the past.  He also even attempted to speak to me in English and seemed to have a new type of respect and care for me.  In the end, he said he suspected it was just a summer cold, but that my tonsils were swollen enough that he supposed it could also be an infection... So he treated both.  Hahaha!
I've gone from a girl who rarely to never took medication, especially if an alternative treatment (homeopathy, energy work, or changes in diet/routine) seemed likely to help, to a girl who takes MULTIPLE medications a day...and still feels like poo.
Yes, I write this from my sick bed where I am attempting to heal my body through rest.  I don't take any part of this adventure for granted, and I feel I'm somehow on the "right track" ...whatever that means and wherever it's going.
Once I've recovered, I look so forward to fully engaging in my life here again.  I've been here 4 of my 36 months and I hope the remaining 32 of em find me on a different kind of a quest.  ...I'd hate to have to come back to America in order to regain my health through Eastern medicine. :)

My life here is so richly blessed--with great people and new experiences. I must get well, so I can fully appreciate it! (This is a photo I took at the "Cat'fe" of a cat with tiny ears.)

NEKO CAFE Last Saturday I went with my new friend Tomoko to a Cat Cafe (or Cat'fe, as I like to call it.) You pay to sit around drinking tea and petting cats, which is somewhat of a luxury in a place where many of us are not allowed to have pets.

Today is my first virtually plan-less day for quite some time.
The weeks behind me have been amazing, then horrible, then quick, then endless...  But one thing these past several weeks have had in common is that they've been unapologetically BUSY!!!!

Leading up to today, I'd planned to spend it tidying up my house, working in my garden, and catching up on e-mails, letter/thank you card-writing, and this blog.  As it turns out, what I most needed to catch up on was SLEEP!  I got my first 8 hours of sleep in ages then got up and ate some fruit and watched Alice in Wonderland on DVD.  (Thanks, Tusculum CPC!!!!)  Then...I went back to sleep!!  I woke up and read a magazine (Thanks, Mom!!!!) Then...I took a 2 hour nap!!  ::sigh::  The funny thing is...it's now almost 4:30 in the afternoon and I've nothing to really show for it.  I haven't DONE anything productive, I haven't SAID anything worthwhile, I haven't even really EATEN anything substantial!!  Furthermore, I could *honestly* go. back. to. sleep....

It's true.

After that last nap, I decided to make myself something to eat.  I'm notably low on groceries at the moment (that was on my to-do list today as well), so I opted for the trusty good-any-time-of-day egg.  I made this crazy-good dinner for me and my friend Hugh last Tuesday, and bought a dozen eggs then, so there were 6 left.  (There was meant to be a potluck at my language school today, but the afore-described sleep marathon prevented me from attending.)  Yes, so I decided to fry a couple eggs.  "Maybe I'll even throw in a little basil from my garden," I thought.  I heated up my olive oil in the frying pan.  The bottle was nearly empty.  "I need to be sure to add that to my shopping list." I moved the pan around to cover the surface with oil. "Maybe I can go grocery-shopping after church tomorrow." I grabbed two eggs from the refrigerator. "I'll need to remember to bring my bags to church with me. ...Oh! And I should go by that open market to buy my produce!" I tapped the first egg on the counter and raised it over the pan... and as my thumbs pressed in...
GREENISH BROWN LIQUID ERUPTED FROM THE SHELL SPLASHING INTO THE PAN AND BEGINNING TO FRY BUT ALSO SPLASHING ONTO THE COUNTER, THE FLOOR, AND...MY ARMS AND LEGS!!!!!

I threw the pan into the sink beneath running water.  I threw the egg into the trash.  ...I was in a bit of shock, I think!  There I was just carryin' bout m'business and suddenly I'm covered in nasty stinky egg matter.  It was like an episode of "Fear Factor"!!!!!!!

I had no choice but to jump into my shower where I stayed a little longer than usual scrubbing the contaminated areas and collecting my thoughts.  When I opened the shower room door to get my towel, a cloud of egg-stank infiltrated my safe zone and I knew I needed to address the offender head-on and fast.  I cleaned up the counter, carried the trash bag out to my back porch, (Trash day isn't until TUESDAY!  Boo.) and attempted to rinse the pan.  Rotten egg is obstinate!  It was stuck on there like you wouldn't believe.  I poured in a bunch of soap and added hot, hot, hot water, and have now left it there to soak.

In two hours, I'm meant to be in Ebina for a hanabi (fireworks) display with the folks from the church there.  I definitely need to eat something before then, but...the egg option no longer appeals.  I also DEFINITELY need to clean that pan so it doesn't make the whole house stink while I'm gone.  It's just so GROSS!!  And...how do I clean it??  With my regular sponge??  I'll not be able to use it ever again and it's brand new! 

I tell ya, this is just one--granted, rather bizarre, and yes, somewhat comical--example of a trend I'm noticing more and more in my life here in Japan.  I am constantly faced with things with which I'd rather not be faced.  I'm constantly needing to do or expected to do things I don't know HOW to do.  Sometimes I surprise myself with the way I dive right in or the way I obliterate the challenges before me.  Sometimes I'm amazed by what I can achieve, how others receive me, and how exciting and lovely life can be when I fearlessly move through the challenges.  Other times (like this one), I notice that I'm cowering; that I'm an almost-paralyzed type of reluctant; that I'm wishing there was someone other than me to help take care of the issue...  But there isn't.

I'm the girl who must tote heavy bags up a huge hill to get home every day.
I'm the girl who must find her way when she gets lost in the world's most populated metropolis.
I'm the girl who must maintain a schedule that sometimes feels too crowded.
I'm the girl who must manage new relationships and friendships in a new place despite language barriers.
I'm the girl who must find English-speaking doctors and attend to my health, even when I feel I'd rather be taken care of.
And yes, I'm the girl who must get up and go in that kitchen and clean up that disgusting pan so that I can figure out what I will eat next.

I'm not alone.  Not at all.  I know that.  I feel that.

The depth of the friendships I have and the connection I have with my family are very, very powerful.  I'm also growing in my faith every day.  ...I guess, just sometimes, the sense of solitude grabs hold and there is nothing I want more than...someone with an iron stomach who can clean up a mess. ;)

BON ODORI This was a summer festival being held in my neighborhood.  I attended by myself and ended up joining in the dances, which were led by the women on the stage.

While my last two blog entries have been heavy on the sorrow (with no real sign of easing up just yet), I must take time to note that there are a million tiny miracles happening around me all the time.

But before I count my "mini" blessings, allow me to regale you with a bit more o' the negative. See here, a list of things to which I think I may never grow accustomed here in Japan (in no particular order):

• The black and white spiders. It is a known fact that I'm the unfortunate victim of severe arachnophobia. It is also known that I don't kill anything, and have gone to great lengths to safely remove all TYPES of unsavory critters from my home(s) over the years. This small spider is no exception. Ushioda-sensai is also frightened of spiders…but not these. "They're cute," he says at dinner last week, rubbing his two index fingers together and bouncing in perfect imitation of the little intruders. "Why would he bounce?" you may ask. Ah, well, these are no usual floor to wall racers. No. These are JUMPING spiders! …And they don't usually jump away from you either. They spring forward and leap from surface to surface, comPLETEly unafraid. It's insane to watch…and would probably be more insane to watch my reaction to them! ::shivers::
  
• My neighbor's sneeze. I've lived here just over 3 months now and am still FRIGHTENED each and every time the male neighbor to my right sneezes…which he does frequently. (Poor guy.) It sounds at first as though he's screeeeeeeeeeaming and then all at once it sounds like he's *VOMITING! (*Note: Vomit is one of my other phobias.) So, the initial noise startles me and the follow-up noise turns my stomach. This is unpleasant all around.
  
• Humidity. Before you Southern US-ers start squawking about, "Oh, you think YOU've got it bad," or "Girl! You grew up in Memphis! Surely you're used to the humidity by now!?!!" trust me on this: No. NO. You have noooo idea. When I first moved here, all I heard when I complimented the sunny, ideal days was, "Soon it will be rainy season and then summer." "Hmm. Okay. Rainy season. That sounds nice," I thought, envisioning myself trudging through puddles beneath some cutesy umbrella for DAYS! ;) …So far (at least this year and at least to my perception), "rainy season" amounts to this: Enough rain or threat of rain each day to keep eeeeeeverything nice and muggy aaaaaaaaaaaalll the time. It could be 78 degrees and feel more like a steam room than a pleasant July afternoon. Not kidding. I step out of my apartment and I am instantly sweating. (Anyone who knows me well knows I don't usually sweat much and I don't LIKE to sweat much.) Bleh. When I come home from the train station each day, it is my first item of business to promptly remove my jeans and flip on my A/C. In the steps between these two locations, a good percentage of my thoughts are about just that. (i.e. "Oh man. I just wanna get home and take off my pants!") I understand now why most people keep some kind of fan on their person at all times. It. Is. So. HUMID!! Aaaaah!
  
• Bath time for little boys. Eight or nine PM appears to be the time of night when my neighbors to the left wrangle their toddler into the bathcup for his nightly bath. I know this…because I hear this…every. single. night. In fact, I'm doubtful I've EVER heard a child scream the way this one does…every. night. I hear his parent(s) coaxing as he refuses with gusto! He shrieks and cries and then writhes about in the water like he's drowning. …And this isn't a brief process. No. It is sometimes an hour-long ordeal! I worried at first that they were beating the child, but with his bath just on the other side of my bedroom wall, I've been able to listen quite carefully to ensure that this is most definitely NOT the case. The kid just really hates baths! …And I'm not sure that I don't hate his bath more than he does!?!! I'm all for just lettin' the kiddo stink a lil bit for a day or four, then revisit the bathing issue! Heavens! I mean, is it really worth it?? They may as well be forcing him to watch and re-watch the *most disturbing scene from a movie. (*Note: For me, this would be the pie-eating contest in Stand By Me.) ::grooooan:: And I wonder if they can't make bathing FUN or something!! You know? Why must bath time be torture? …For him AND for me! :p
  
• Parallel train rumble. I love trains. I always have. I actually take great pleasure in riding the train everywhere rather than driving these days…but I admit… I still jump when riding in a train car as it passes another train travelling in the opposite direction. The velocity forces a tremendous amount of wind to slam against the cars creating a SMACK as the windows absorb the impact. …Ahem…I dropped out of my Physics I class in high school, so I feel my vocabulary and understanding of this subject is a bit weak. …Is "velocity" even the right word?? I don't know. …Maybe if I'd stayed in the class, I wouldn't be such a scaredy cat on the train!! Haha!
  
• My new phobia. I've mentioned two of my three notorious fears, but the third one is sometimes controversial and ALWAYS embarrassing, so I'll keep it to myself for now. Besides…I find it lessening, and RAPIDLY being replaced by a NEW fear. See, I'm not all into fashion or anything (obviously), but I do have strong opinions about what I like and don't like. I find, on the whole, that most Japanese women are exTREMEly fashionable! One really practical thing I've noticed in the world of fashion here is the plethora of sock selection. We must do so much walking here that even the most comfortable pair of shoes often requires wearing some kind of socks, if not for style then for comfort and protection. There are so many shapes and styles of socks—socks to wear with ANY type of shoes! Ah, but…I really (really!) don't like the look of panty hose or sheer nylon socks…with open-toed shoes! ::gasp!:: I reeeeeally dislike it, actually. I don't like the look of toes all mashed together and slightly obscured. …I know, I know, I know… It's a ridiculous phobia…but most phobias generally are…right??
  

So, there you have it—my newest list of little gripes. As I mentioned, my life is FULL of joy and warmth right now too and I proooooooomise I'll soon compile a list and share with you some incredible and touching stories.

In the meantime, I hope you got a little chuckle from imagining my dealing with some of these irritations. I also hope you will continue to pray for me and Kara and for my precious cat-friend, Bosch, who is now severely anemic and will go back to the vet for the third time in two weeks this weekend. I could use all the support you can muster around this issue as being so far away from Bosch and from anyone who knows and loves Bosch has proven to be immensely trying.

I look forward to sharing good news with all of you soon!

Ten years ago tomorrow, I adopted a big fluffy pregnant cat and named her Bosch after my favorite painter. It was just me and her. She didn't even LIKE anyone but me. And when she had her 6 little black babies in the closet of my attic apartment in Nashville, she wrapped her paw around my finger and pushed them out, knowing I was right there to love her, help her, and support her.


And for 10 years, I have been...and she me. She has seen me through THE craziest and hardest of times (too numerous and overwhelming to list.) And she's helped me and even HEALED me! She is my best friend, in so many ways, and leaving her to come to Japan was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.


Until now.


Today I found out from my friend Kara, who graciously took that big fluffy cat into her home back in May, that prompted by some strange behavior over the past couple weeks, she'd taken Bosch to see a vet. The approximately 14 year old Birmese was diagnosed with CDS (feline Alzheimer's). !!!!!! I am devastated. She is not doing well at all--not eating, not aware, getting lost, lethargic, not wanting touch, not recognizing Kara, using the bathroom in strange places... The doctor gave some medicine and I pray that it gives her some relief...for BOTH her sake and Kara's! Can you imagine helping out an old friend by hosting their beloved cat while they're on the mission field...only to have her diagnosed with an irreversible and even fatal condition less than 3 months later??


What will life BE like for them? :(


I am hurting.


I am hurting because I already missed my cat...SO much! And now there is this deeper longing and this...guilt! I love her best and most. I promised her a better life. I said, "It's you and me." Now I've forsaken her...ABANDONED her! She must be so frightened!! Oh, poor baby!! I love her so much!! What if my friend gets tired of her? What if caring for her is too hard? It would NEVER be too hard for me!! I love her. I LOVE HER! I would do anything for her. (What CAN I do?)


Oh, Bosch.



Please pray for this awesome, special kitty that she may know she is loved, even if she knows nothing else.
And pray for comfort and strength for all those who cherish her...especially Kara.

And me.

:(

Maybe this was the first of many bumps in the road, or maybe this was the only one of its kind.  Who can say, really?  But...I've had a hard week, followed by a week of reprieve, followed by the mother of all hard weeks.  I am not in the gripey state of wanting to say too much about it, but I do need to admit... This is hard.
"This"--being alone in a new place,
"This"--missing my family, friends, and easily accessible allergy-friendly foods,
"This"--maneuvering through day-to-day life without comprehension of language,
"This"--learning about myself and others through trial and error,
"This"--teetering along a thin line between professionalism and friendship; openness and privacy,
"This"--restructuring of time, needs, passions, and responsibilities,
"This"--absence of middle ground between overwhelm and isolation,
"This"--feeling of disconnect from those who are in closest proximity to me,
"This"--reconciliation of dreams, desires, and reality,
"This"--fear that so many people who've put their trust and belief in me...may be disappointed in me...

Confession:  Even as I write this, and even as I experience these things and these feelings, there is a constant whir within me that assures me I'm just fine; that I will be just fine; that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be; exactly who I'm supposed to be. 

Do you know that I once lost track of time while talking to my friend Jeffrey and he missed the last bus from Boulder to Denver?  He was born without arms or legs and his wheelchair didn't collapse AND weighed 400 lbs, so it was impossible to drive him home or hire a cab.  Without a second thought, I arranged to leave his chair in a nearby restaurant, carried him to my car and buckled him into the safety belt, drove him to my apartment, and proceeded to carry him up a steep flight of stairs in the middle of the night...realizing only the next morning when I carried him down again...how crazy heavy he was!!!  I thought I'd drop him on the descent, and I told him so.  (Poor guy!  He was terrified!)  He said, "I know!  The way you ran up the stairs with me last night, I thought, 'Good Lord!  Who IS this woman??'"  ...But that's me.  When the situation calls for it, I somehow arise with all it takes to survive...and sometimes even thrive!

So that's not different here and now.

This isn't horn-tootin'.  I'm amazing at my job!  I am, and I'm soooo glad!  Who really knew that I would be?  I certainly didn't.  But, thankfully, it's true!  Each of my classes is so, so different and therefore requires not only a different lesson plan each week, but also a different part of me!

The day of my first class was the first emergence of any real drama for me here in Japan.  It came in the form of a misunderstanding between me and my colleagues.  (Imagine that!  A misunderstanding between people of different cultures, from different countries, with different languages and ages and personalities??  Who'da thunk it?) ;)  Riding the train toward the church, I tearfully lamented, "I'm unable.  I'm not ready.  I can't do this."  But a dear friend back in the States happened to still be awake and on Skype and said, "Uhhh, yeah you can.  Let's get you prepped," and proceeded to brainstorm with me precisely how I would manage my first class.

This was an introductory meeting, so I went in expecting to lead a couple activities for 3 to 10 adults in their 50's and ended up with over 30 potential students between the ages of 2 and 70 whom I needed to teach/entertain for almost TWO HOURS! Ha!!  But you know what?  It went really, really well! :)  And each my classes since have too!



Even so, I lingered in a "funk."  I was able to apply so many of the compassionate communication skills I obtained through my education at Naropa University and though it would have (for a split second) seemed easier to just throw in the proverbial towel and head back to the States, I hung in there.  I'm glad I did.

I guess it's just tricky to truly settle in anywhere, especially when there are SO many adjustments to make.  I'm an open person.  I love to share my stories and my heart with others and I love encouraging that type of openness within them.  Even so, I was not quite prepared for the cultural difference wherein what is shared between two does not remain between two and becomes instead "common knowledge."  It is my belief that the people of Japan Presbytery care for and worry about me a great deal, so it seems natural to discuss me...even things about me that I'd rather they didn't discuss--typical American "taboos" like money, health, and personal life, you know?  I had begun to feel that my life lacked walls and doors and curtains, so to speak.  Everything I said and did and felt seemed up for discussion...whether I was a participant in that discussion or not.  BUT...once I realized what was happening and how horribly it was affecting me.  I drew upon my resources (support from friends, family, and employer, conflict resolution training, and straight up, tearful prayer) and managed to work through things and restore joy and equanimity to my life and my work.  (I specify now that these are two different things.) ;)

Anyway, it's been a rough go of late. Struggles and disappointments have seeped into a months-long run of good days. I'm grateful, though, for all that I've learned and am learning--the greatest lesson of which seems to be a reminder to be gentle with myself and others and to not hold on too tightly or let go too quickly, but to instead float along, oar in hand, ready to paddle if things go off course.

(June 8)  To isolate one experience or day or even weekend and call it "my favorite in Japan so far" seems extreme and even inconceivable!  I have had so MANY great days and so MANY wonderful experiences in the past two and a half months that it would be simpler to select a BAD day from the bunch.  (There've been so few!  ...And "bad" seems harsh.  I haven't had any "bad" days here!)
Something happened last month though, and I feel like it needs further mention here in my blog, and yes, I'm assured in saying, "It is my favorite weekend in Japan so far!" :)

A few weeks ago, I visited Kunitachi to stay with my friend Kenta Karasawa and his family.  He is the pastor of Kunitachi Nozomi Kyokai.  This was the most complicated journey by train I'd made alone thus far, but I arrived safely after only one missed connection.  (Due to renovations at the Ebina station, there were no signs with Romaji...so I couldn't read ANYTHING!  "Which train is this?  What direction is it going?  Is it an express?"  I finally had to ask an employee to confirm I was headed to the right platform.  Things like that make me sweaty. Ha!  But it all worked out!)

Kenta and the Satohs met me at the station and I left my belongings at the manse and took off on bike for a day full of adventure!  (It was hilarious how concerned Karasawa-sensai and Satoh-sensai were about my ability to ride the bike and my safety while doing so!)

(May 24)  Yesterday was Pentecost.  I woke up early because the church I was visiting, Megumi, is two hours away by train.   As has become my routine, I immediately checked my e-mail.  Tucked into a collection of sweet correspondence from people I love was, what its author titled, a "Love Letter."  This letter came from a peer of mine whom I was lucky enough to mentor as an Orientation Leader during his first semester at Naropa University a couple years ago.  The letter explained the path this young man had taken to the place and time we met and the road(s) he's taken since then.  He highlighted my role in his life as being pivotal to the man he's become and is becoming.  I was moved beyond measure by his words.

I've often paused to reflect on how I got to where I am (wherever that may be at the time) and always I can pinpoint certain people and experiences that directed me somehow.  It fees amazing that I am just such a guidepost in someone else's life.

If I asked myself that question today--"How did I get here?"--I hardly know where my answer would begin.  Indeed, it's been a long and unique journey--blissful and rich at times, somber or inimical at others.  I feel each stone in the path beneath my feet has been perfectly placed, so I cherish the good and (so-called) bad that strenghtened and formed me into the woman who is now so joyfully relishing my life as a missionary in Japan!

After worship and lunch yesterday (where I was asked to SING! ...That's a story for another day.), I joined with many people of all ages to celebrate the commissioning service of Pastor Iwao Satoh, whose family (True, Humika, and Tabi, as they will be known in the U.S.), will leave next week to minister to Japanese-speaking families in Louisville, KY.  Though the service was rather long and I, of course, understood very little, the significance and import of this day was deeply felt.  It was exactly two months ago that I too publicly declared my intention to drastically change my life in response to a call from God.  ...The thing is... My call from God initially came through Iwao Satoh!

Perhaps you've heard this story, but for me the wonder of it keeps it from ever becoming old.  :)  Two years ago, I visited Japan representing The Cumberland Presbyterian magazine at the annual General Assembly conference.  It was my job to assist the then-Editor, a great lady and mother by the name of Pat White, by taking photos, conducting interviews, and preparing notes for a slew of articles.  From the first day of our 10 day stay, I felt an immediate connection to the country and the people.  By Day 3, I found myself sitting in a meeting (on which I was meant to be reporting) thinking, "I love it here.  I do.  I love the food I've eaten, the people I've met, the places I've been, the things I've done.  I love Japan.  I wanna live here.  Yeah.  Maybe I'll just stay here.  Well.  No.  No, I can't stay here.  I have a cat and a job and school, so I'll have to go back to Colorado and take care of all of that, then I can just come back.  ....No, no, no.  That's ridiculous.  How would I ever come back here?  And why?  I wouldn't have a place to live and I don't have a job here and I don't even speak the language!!"  At this point I realized I had not made a single note about the meeting for about 15 minutes, so I refocused on the task at hand.  When the meeting ended, however, I saw something I will never forget.  A man stood quietly near the back door wearing a sandwich board sign that read: "ENGLISH-TEACHING MISSIONARY NEEDED.  PLEASE INQUIRE."  As you can imagine, I immediately felt shock!  I asked God, "How can I live here?" and God said, "Be a missionary!"  People always talk about how they made the biggest decisions of their lives..."It was a SIGN!" they'll say.   ...For me it was an ACTUAL sign!!

In Japan it is not common to do things that might seem outrageous or draw all kinds of attention to one's self.  It would take someone rather silly or foolish to make such a spectacle as to wear a large sign in a crowd of visitors.  Luckily for me, there was someone just silly enough to take that risk, and that someone was Iwao Satoh.  He knew in his heart that we sometimes have to be a fool for God!  So God orchestrated this whole relationship perfectly--a silly sign for a girl silly enough to respond.  And now my friend, my sign, my guidepost, is about to take another risk in the name of Jesus Christ.  He's uprooting from his life of comfort here, leaving his friends and loved ones, and the familiarity of HOME to begin life all over again, to some extent.  I love him and his family very much and I cry when I think of their leaving--because I will miss them, because I know how difficult it is and will be, and because I am so happy for them!  I pray that they may be as welcomed and cared for in MY home country as I have been in THEIRS!



They will leave a void in this country, one that I know I cannot even hope to fill, but I hope that I can follow their examples of love and patience, of extending compassion and forgiveness to all, of sharing in the excitement and sorrow of others, and of being genuine and fearless when it matters most.  If I can do this, I know my life will be changed for the better, and hopefully I can also impact many other lives along the way.

I really love being in Japan and I love all that I'm learning and have learned.  Some will say that the joy I feel in my life here is but a "honeymoon" phase.  I have heard this before and admittedly, when I consider it now, it makes me worry.  Further consideration, however, unravels that theory entirely.  The "honeymoon" can be unending if I continue to deepen my relationship with everything and everyone around me.  I may not ever have come back here without Pastor Satoh, but I'm here now, and I'm going to make the most of every moment.

By the way, the title of this post comes from the fact that THREE different ladies told me yesterday that I look like Snow White.  Perhaps it was my long red dress or the scarf I wore, I don't know.  In some ways I do feel like Snow White--wandering through the woods and singing merry songs.  (I just wish all the birds and rabbits would unite to do my dishes!!) :)

My goodness!!  It's May 21st already!!  I've been in Japan for six weeks now!  This is hard to believe, even for me!!!
I apologize that so much time has passed since I've updated this blog.  (Were you worried?) ;)

Allow me to explain.  ...In order to get Internet at my apartment, I needed a Japanese bank account.  In order to get a bank account, I needed a Japanese Residency ID card.  In order to become a resident, I needed to live here for one month.  Add those hoops to my already hectic schedule of settling in, traveling around, meeting new people, learning new things, AND having my 30th birthday, and, well, I've been doing a lot of jumping...and I don't even start teaching for 2 more weeks!?!! ;)



I'm happy to report, though....All is well.  I love my new home and am amazed, though simultaneously not surprised, at how quickly I'm adjusting to my new apartment and new routine, to new foods and new places and new experiences.  I have so many really, truly GOOD friends here already and am so loved and well-cared for that I get a little overwhelmed at times.  There come times in life when we can feel--when we just KNOW--we're on the right path.  For me, this is one of those times.  I arrived in this place at EXACTLY the right time and I am falling right into the flow of EXACTLY what I'm meant to be doing.



No one can tell me how to do this, not exactly, so by-and-large, I'm finding my own way...and loving every minute of it!  So much has happened since last I wrote, I hardly know where to start in sharing it with you!
Perhaps I'll let these pictures speak for themselves: