Another Year Another Birthday Another Place

Another year I found myself wanting to fly away, again.

It's not particularly exciting for me to see a new place, but the idea of leaving makes me feel better.

I once said to a person: I like flying and being on the plane, because I feel my life is always up in the air.

Life is an unsettling business, whether I'm happy or sad, have a job or in a relationship.

The older I get, the more I feel there are always some unfinished businesses, situations, emotions lingering on and about, waiting to be done or undone, but never get to the end.

When someone exits, another enters. It repeats itself until you realise no one is special.

When something is gone, something else comes back, as if something has never moved or changed.

Life is a mystery forever...

Until I feel I can settle it down, I will be flying up in the air.

And, do not try to catch me, please.

I wish you all well

Anti-nuclear demonstration in Shinjuku

Three months after the March earthquake and tsunami, I was back in Japan.

I have missed the place, the people, and my sensei here.

Everywhere I went, I was told stories of how the event registered in the minds of different people. Thanks for sharing your stories with me.

You said it was frightening. You've never experienced a quake like this. When it happened you were at the hotel where you worked. It was a long period of shaking and you saw the lights above you shaking hard. Because of the electricity shortage, you couldn't go home. You 'slept' sitting on a chair for the night, as all the space and beds were offered to people who had no where to go. You told me some, including yourself, suffered from motion sickness after the many aftershocks, and you were always feeling the ground was shaking. You showed me pictures of your room after the quake. Your futon was covered by a cupboard that fell on it. Lots of stuff were broken in the house. It took you a long time to clean up. Yet, you said there's nothing comparable to the people in the most affected areas, those who lost their families and homes. You just couldn't imagine what it'd have been like for them and what will happen to them...

You told me I was the first foreign visitor you saw after the earthquake and that business was really bad and has declined by 80%. Many were forced to be out of business while others were just waiting every day, and hoping things would be back to normal. Before I left your restaurant, you said: Thank you for coming to Japan during this time.

When the earthquake happened, you were inside a department store. The shake was so strong that you had to hold onto a wall nearby. You saw that many women were doing the same. It was a scary long period of waiting until it finally stopped.

You said the week after the earthquake was weird. You were made to stay home rather than go in the office but there was nothing you could do. When you tried to read, there was an aftershock, which made it hard to read. When you went out, the street was empty as nobody wanted to be out. Every day there was something gone - first water, then food, then toilet paper, and more... It's as if you didn't know what would be missing on the shelves the next day and it was unsettling. When the earthquake happened, people thought that was it. It's only after a day or two when the tsunami news came about, you realised it was more than that and many people have died. It was sad and depressing to know that.

Rock Garden

I went back to the Ryoangi temple today.

Last time when I was here, it was perhaps 10 years ago, or maybe longer.

I sat down, looking at the rocks - amazingly arranged in a sand garden.- thinking about you.

Today, I sat down, looking at the rocks - amazingly sitting in the same place - thinking about you.

It is as if each piece of rock is a different person, another life event.

I used to think life was nothing if it's not exciting.

Now I think life is made up of ordinary events. And it is good.

Like the rocks which sit and stay here... feeling grounded and contented.

For millions of years, they remain where they are, where they belong.

As if they're waiting for me to come back.

And I am back.

And wondering: where do I belong in this world?

An old book

A new person mentioned an old book I read in the past, a few days ago, out of the blue.

Suddenly everything flashed back in my mind:
A trip to Taipei
Hanging out in the 24-hour bookstore
Discovering the book and author
Reading it and couldn't let go
Bringing it home

Reading the story again has reminded me of the person I loved, who died
and the food he used to make in the kitchen
when I was small and happy
and many other stories and people that had followed...

I finished it in two evenings. When I finished the last page, I felt like going in the kitchen, to cook something
My kitchen isn't the one the author would like in her dream,
but everything that went through my mind between your mentioning the book and my reading it, again, is.
Like a dream...