Last year I focused on the flowers themselves. Their suggestion of other dimensions, of ethereal realities goes far beyond words, to the realm of pure feeling. This year, however, my eye moved more to the people enjoying a day together, welcoming the joys of this hopeful season.

Their delight was in pure contrast to international news, which has absorbed much of my attention in recent months. There are so many worries and questions today. How can anyone applaud an escalation of war as a way to “mean business” and to solve very complex problems? How can people believe the intricately woven stories that divert us from the truth of human dignity, especially of those suffering the most?

The United Airline disaster is yet another example of “might as right”, but this time, thankfully, gone terribly wrong. Can we believe the apologies of CEO Oscar Munoz? Are they genuinely sincere, and not motivate by economic concerns alone?

It seems to me that if Mr. Munoz really wanted to express a change of attitude and values, he would do more than apologize and reimburse passengers the cost of that infamous flight. Has it occurred to him to use a percentage of his enormous salary (14 million dollars in 2016) and all of his bonus money over the years (He may receive yet another $500,000 soon) on an ongoing basis to contribute to organizations that work with victims of police brutality, domestic violence, and child abuse? Has he thought of including United Airlines, Inc. as part of that contribution to the betterment of society?

As I watched ordinary people today together celebrating the return of new life, I realized how truly beautiful our humanity is. And hopefully, the disturbing descent of our values to the lowest common denominator will find reason to change direction, moving us upward to embrace something both new and as old as the universe itself. Spring, the promise of new life for everyone, not just those at the top.

Love,
Anne

Can we honestly say we are making efforts to mature these traits in today’s complicated and confused world?

Surely in many small ways we try.
Carefully, attentively, profoundly.

Today March 11, we blessed our memories and our lives with deep reflection. 

Michelle & JoJo, Photo by Ali Asaei

Love,
Anne

Can we honestly say we are making efforts to mature these traits in today’s complicated and confused world?

Surely in many small ways we try.
Carefully, attentively, profoundly.

Today March 11, we blessed our memories and our lives with deep reflection. 

Michelle & JoJo, Photo by Ali Asaei

Love,
Anne

Imai Sensei and Aoki Sensei do so much more than feed the homeless. They give them showers and wash their clothes. They help find jobs and inexpensive apartments. They schedule sessions with lawyers for legal advice – about their individual rights and how best to adhere to city laws.  

Yomawari, Imai Sensei and Aoki Sensei’s group, have rules, but enforce them lovingly. They refuse any form of drunkenness. The other day one man arrived reeling from alcohol, stinking from not bathing, clothes torn, and socks so damaged that a web of filthy cracks and splinters peeked through the heels. This guest swayed in, shouting jokes, causing a huge uproar. Volunteers smiled and laughed politely at his antics, but Imai Sensei was not amused. He told the noisy, smelly man to leave immediately. Sternly, yes. But also lovingly.

“Here. Take this food. Take these clothes. Come back on Monday when you can get a bath and your clothes washed. But don’t ever come back drunk. Now good-bye.”

A ban, yes. But also fairness and an open door.

Another recent beautiful gesture of Imai Sensei and Aoki Sensei was a gift of refinement. They challenged their homeless charges with a Senryu (like Haiku) contest. The winners won a handmade metal and a coupon for a helpful purchase. One of the winners of that contest wrote (in translation):

I gaze at an apartment near this park, and wish it were home.

 
Imai Sensei always says, “The homeless are human beings like you and me. The only difference is they have fallen on very bad luck. We must focus on their humanity and give opportunities for their very best to shine through.”

Love,
Anne

I wish he would be good person . . .

Even as we resist, let’s try.

I think we can do.

On that sacred day people gather their decorations and flock to the nearest Shinto shrine. There they toss their offerings into bonfires that roar and hiss as the flames are fed into full abundance.

What makes this festival unique is not so much the bonfires, however, as the people. Participants join colleagues, dressed in thin cotton outfits and straw sandals. They walk together through the city ringing bells and shivering their way to the nearest shrine. They carry lanterns and hold paper in their mouths to control their chattering teeth and to give them a focus beyond the piercing cold. Once at the shrine area, they circle the bonfires, rejoicing in the warmth, as other worshipers throw their decorations into the flames.

Regular worshippers, fully dressed for winter’s bitterness, also head to the altar to pray. They, too, ring bells, bow, ask for blessings. 

Japanese say they are not religious, and maybe they are not. But they all recognize the power of superstitions and live by them. People of all ages go to shrines on Dontosai. They pray, they eat, they buy expensive decorations and Daruma dolls, immediately throwing them into the fire. 

God bless the world as we, Japanese or not, strive for purity and humility, as we seek forgiveness and start this year with endless courage to endure.

Love,
Anne

Arahama, the shore area, had not changed much since last March when I went there to pray for the soul of the dead. Huge trucks still lumber by, explanatory bulletin boards dot construction sites, and the tsunami-damaged school is still standing, and will continue to do so as a memorial to what people lost or left behind.

I personally detest war. Of course, I recognize any body’s need for an immune system, and a country’s obligation to protect itself.  So, I understand the necessity of a military, even though I would love a world where the armed forces were obsolete: a world mature enough to dialogue solutions to conflict, and willing to work for the whole of humankind, not narrowly focused on national self interests. But that is wishful thinking, and I know it.

The other day a friend, a man who has practiced Kendo for years, told me of his recent visit to Yakukuni Shrine.

“Because the Japanese Mind is so strongly felt there.”

“The Japanese Mind?”

“Yes, Budou, ‘martial arts’, as you say in English. But that is not a good translation. It only touches the surface. The Budou Mind covers so much more, is so much deeper. It entails every ounce of our being, our keen focus, our complete Heart, our total Mind.

“But it is more than that, too. It is a discipline, a training that guides us to become not only single-mindedly focused, but also very intuitive. It is as if our whole being is open, listening, receptive. And in that state, we give, even as we receive what our surroundings have to offer and what we ourselves emit. It is a sacred experience. It is the unique Japanese way of being in the world.”

“Sorry, I don’t understand.” I said in wonder, “Is this allowed only to Japanese, or can others develop it also? Are Japanese born with it, or must it be trained into them?”

He went on to say, “We are this from before we were conceived. It is our soul. It is all around us. It is part of our traditional culture. It is how our society operates.

“One everyday example is gift giving. Whenever we meet someone, we take a gift. It is a way to honor that person. It shows our humility and respect for them. It is also a subtle way of honoring the gods. ‘I recognize the god in you’, as we bow before that person, offering our gift. In turn we receive the joy that can only come from giving.”

“But . . . but what does this have to do with your need to go to Yasukuni Shrine?” I asked, still uncertain.

“Everything.
“Budou energy is highly concentrated there. Even though it is often full of people demonstrating against war, the place is profoundly peaceful. Silent, deeply silent. Going there put me in touch with what it means to be Japanese in the truest sense of the word.”

“As a Japanese? Is that where you place your identity?”

 
“I place my identity not in this country, but in its Mind. It is subtle, it is deep, it goes to the core of my being. While at Yasukuni Shrine, I feel that power with every part of who I am.”

I thought about what my friend said, but was still very uncertain. I realized that my attitude was strongly influenced by what I had read of Japan in WWII. One small aspect of that complex and controversial issue was the plight of Kamikaze pilots. The militaristic government had taken the cream of what Japan had to offer — the best educated, the most cultured, the most intelligent young men — and had forced them to commit suicide for its own distorted purposes of nationalism, ego, and power. It covered over this vile abuse of the Budou Spirit by comparing those young men to the gracious, ephemeral beauty of cherry blossoms. How can Yasukuni Jingu be a spiritual place if such poisonous energy is an integral part of it? 

“Anne, Anne,” he said to me, “the men at the top of the military government during WWII were the epitome of evil. Their sick minds and actions caused tremendous suffering. There is no doubt about that. But you have to look deeper. If you go down to the very foundation of life itself, you do not find evil. You find purity. You find goodness. You find an openness that can only express the essence of God, manifested in the very soul of humanity.

“The Kamikaze pilots did what they had to. They were forced to do it. If they had resisted, not only would they have been tortured and killed, but their families and anyone connected to them would have been severely punished, most probably murdered. The Kamikaze pilots did what they did in order to protect those they loved and who loved them. That is where they were great. That is where they were heroes. That is where they manifested the Budou Spirit.”

Every year in mid-summer when rice paddies are poignantly green and fields are joyous with produce, three very special days, called Obon, are set aside for worship and for prayer. During that period, ancestors make a sacred and special pilgrimage to this earth’s dimension. They long to commune, to bless, and to be with those they left behind.

In return, the living flock to graves, adorning them with flowers, incense, sake, and prayer. Cities vacate as people return to hometowns, to the beloved land that holds generations of family devotion, duty, and bonds.

At night in particular the souls of the deceased come alive, haunting graveyards and temples. They are seeking loved ones, hovering close, eager to give needed assistance and care. 

A forest planning-planting NGO.
Generations of promise.
Life slowly taking hold.
Whole forests emerging out of devastation and human toil.

One Still Small Voice.
Steadily at work.
Rebuilding lives and hope, in the midst of today’s chaotic world.

One Still Small Voice —

 
Love,
Anne

 
P.S. Is it by coincidence that as OISCA members planted trees on Saturday, the G7 met in Sendai to discuss the future of the world?

P.P.S. Today’s volunteers came in all shapes and sizes.

I had not been to help Imai Sensei feed the homeless for several months. But recently I had time, so decided to go. En route there I came across students asking for donations for the victims of the Kumamoto earthquake. I met the same later in several other places. Many kind souls helped us in our time of great need, and still are. So we feel a particularly deep bond with those suffering today, albeit far away. And therefore, we give, we share. And that makes us feel happy.

When I arrived, the park where Imai Sensei’s Yomawari NGO meets was full of kids playing ball, swinging and sliding, shouting and laughing, delighting in the freedom offered by that beautiful spring day. Gradually, like quiet birds, one homeless after another began to arrive. They sat on benches in the sun, waiting for the food truck to arrive.

Yomawari volunteers are like professionals now. After years of running the program, they know just what to do. Within minutes everything – food and clothes – were ready.

Recently there have been fewer partakers. That is because some now have a room, provided by either the city or NGOs. They have to pay a minimal rent, but some of these gentlemen receive social security or a pension. Others find odd jobs, like cleaning Sendai Station before dawn. Likewise, many still go to Fukushima to help clean the nuclear plant there. And now maybe some will find their way to the far south, to Kumamoto, to lend their efforts there. That leaves mostly old men as the ones who rely on Imai Sensei’s ongoing generosity and kindness. Despite the fewer numbers, often young students volunteer serving food and handing out clothing.

Compared to other places, Sendai’s homeless count is not particularly high, a few hundred. But that number does not include the people who while away time in internet cafés or other accepting places that never close. It also does not include those without jobs, but are lucky to have a place to live.

Yomawari is unique in that it provides showers and laundry several times a week. Most often the clothes are folded neatly, but returned wet. The men graciously accept them and head to parks or riverbanks, where they spread them out to dry.

“This season is particularly good for that,” one volunteer told me. “The rainy season has not started. And it is warm and beautiful.” Then she added, “Aren’t the ‘new greens’ reassuring? Doesn’t this season make sharing easier? And doesn’t sharing make everyone feel happier?”

Love,
Anne

Even though Sakura seem ethereal, light, and joyous, they, too, convey a multitude of profound meanings. Throughout the centuries they have symbolized the complete cycle of life – from the joy of birth to the inevitably of death. Their delicate petals suggest the fragility and shortness of youth, and call on us to appreciate ephemeral beauty while it lasts. Yet, the thick, gnarled trunks promise us longevity, along with the necessity of obligation. These dark, twisted beings, often with only a shell remaining, have the privilege and power to support new life as it delights in its earliest expression. Yet they later work to feed the leaves in summer and protect dormant life in winter. And precisely because of this ongoing nurturance and annual recycling, the beloved Sakura shower us with the hope of rebirth and eternal life.

The blooming of Sakura is a cause for celebration. Starting in the south and moving northward, blossoms offer their shy message of hope and of joy. North of Sendai, Miyagi, the flowering occurs rather late. That enables the delicate cherry to brush the festivities of early May, when carp streamers announce the joyous presence of children. In particular, Kitakami, Iwate simultaneously adorns itself with both Sakura and streamers. They offer us the pleasure of sheer beauty, even as petals fall like snow or tears of gentle rain.

Kumamoto, and the nation with it, are weeping now. Yet even as this uncertainty continues, we are taking time to appreciate beauty while it lasts, knowing that it must die, but will recycle again and again, and forever yet again.

Love,
Anne

Nature and Science. Where do they dance in harmony? What are examples that encourage a happy marriage between these two forces calling for dynamic involvement and change?

OISCA. A Japanese NGO devoted to planting trees. Worldwide. And also very close. Natori, a town bordering Sendai, blessed with ten years of OISCA support. A project to replace large sections of the once vast coastal pine forest, obliterated by the March 11 tsunami.

OISCA is wise. It uses the expertise of locals for advice and direction. OISCA supports; it does not dominate. Together all involved build a future based on trust, respect, ancient wisdom, modern science, and hope.

OISCA is smart. It works beyond and around the planting of trees. Total commitment to the whole. Once yearly, average citizens come to help plant pines. Year round OISCA and locals hold meetings, seminars, and educational programs, both in town and in the field. Experts provide clear explanations of where we have been, where we are going.