Recently I had the pleasure of reading an article in The Catholic Worker about one of its Hospitality Houses, St. Joseph’s. It was written by a volunteer, Megan Townsend, who regularly goes there to serve and to socialize with the many others who grace St. Joe’s with their unique and important presence.

The more I read this short, but profound article, the more I realized it reflected much of what Imai Sensei’s Yomawari does for the homeless here in Sendai. Let me quote a few excerpts to illustrate what I mean.

“As I volunteered more often and got to know this … interdependent community, it felt a lot less like service and a lot more like sharing . . . As I watched people on the house at St. Joe’s greeting people . . . I observed this casual ease of giving.

“. . . I admired the way they would act as if giving away whatever they could was just something they should do. It is natural . . . I would watch volunteers at St. Joe’s ask someone their name, shake their hand, and then joke with them as if they had known each other for years (which in some cases they have!) . . . Asking someone their name is just the beginning of the relationship, an invitation to community.

 “The importance of humanizing each other . . . (allows each of us to) feel known and loved . . . My greatest joy is . . . making acts of serving (be) . . . familiar rather than impersonal.”

Last week I had the privilege of taking two students to volunteer at Imai Sensei’s soup run. One had been before, and since the experience impressed her so deeply, she asked a friend to join her. It was lovely watching them interacting with the men and women, both volunteers and guests. They treated all the people there with great kindness and respect, just as they themselves were treated.

It always means a lot to feel the truly loving, caring community that Yomawari has created and maintains. All are always welcome. And everyone leaves feeling full – not only of warm food, but also of the greatest of gift of all: support and unconditional love.

Love,
Anne

Every morning when I greet the dawn, I wish that I were by the sea. As I watch light slowly unfolding the day, I can easily sense the ceaseless rhythm and energy that only waves, tides, and the vast expanses of sky can bring. Today after my morning ritual, I went inside and listened to the news. I learned of the well-planned offensive to recapture Mosul from ISIS’s relentless strangle and grasp. I thought of the ensuing, bloody tug of wars, ferocious between all sides. Each has strong beliefs and accepts that death is a necessary part of change. The more it dawned on me what lay ahead for Mosul, for all concerned, the more I felt the literal pull of the sea.

The coast is easy to get to from Sendai and does not take long. So, I heeded my intuition and went. I passed newly built homes, sadly with no grass, no trees, no gardens. I wondered what sort of mental and emotional world we have been creating since Tohoku’s life-altering events of 2011. Where is the famed Japanese connection to nature and to land? But thankfully, further on we passed newly harvested rice paddies and barns filled with tools to work our precious earth.

The frames of houses with recent altars, the temporary Buddhist temple with a priest droning prayers inside, and the erect Mother Buddha with the nearby Shinto tori gate are all as I remembered them.

Pulled by the cyclical call of the tides, I worked my way to the beach. Once there I thought about Nature and death, of war and death. I pondered whether at this stage in humanity’s eternal evolution we need to fight, to have a life-threatening challenge to pull us decisively away from noise and glut and even wisely given counsel, so as to discover our own unique voice and the ground of who we are. Are we yet consciously our core?

The waves rolled and I felt the eternal dance of earth with moon. I watched the resultant tides, smooth today, but always harboring the possibility of turbulence and destruction within. I also deeply felt the horror of misplaced idealism, coupled with tribal wars: Mosul today, the world past and tomorrow.

The water washed my feet and evoked humble prayer. May innocents survive and grow in grace. May rebuilding be selfless and generous. May we think first of others, those here and yet to come, as we work for a future without fear.

Conflict and destruction are innate in all expressions of existence. But equally so, maybe more so, are harmony and efforts to transform the past and shape a world that is fair and honors all.

Love,
Anne

War is something that I cannot get my mind around. It is completely incomprehensible to me. But precisely because wars are so prevalent today, I feel an urgency to try and understand why people resort to violence to solve their controversies. And coupled with that questioning is the universal tendency to highly revere soldiers who die in combat, no matter how alarming or questionable the conflict may have been. This effort to understand is not to condone war, not at all. It is rather a desire to get a glimpse into the psychology behind that unfortunate choice of behavior.

Recently a friend of mine gave me the incentive to visit Yasukuni Shrine. Since the Meiji Restoration over 100 years ago, Japanese who fought and died for the Emperor are buried there. (1) And because they gave their lives for their country, they are considered “Kami”, or gods. But the place is not as pure as it might seem. Some of those interred are rather questionable characters. (2) I have read so much about the negativity and controversy of the place that I was uneasy going. But I also was determined to go with an open heart.

 

Yasukuni Jingu is indeed a very beautiful place. The enormous entrance torii gate, the sensual wooden doors adorned with a golden chrysanthemum flower, moss-covered Sakura trees, and the dark-hued main shrine all evoke an essence that is indeed sacred and profound.

I wandered slowly and found monuments in honor of all those who sacrificed in war: from combat horses to mothers and wives grieving their slain loved ones. The sincerity and devotion of worshippers struck a deep cord, as one after another bowed, clapped twice, prayed, and bowed again. There was a sense of being absolved, of purifying one’s inner and outer being in order to move out into the world with greater clarity and purpose.

The energy at Yasukuni Jingu was intense, but subtle. Even though the shrine is relatively new, the long stretch of history could be felt everywhere, rising from the rich black earth of the complex itself. The accompanying museum depicted this land’s wars for literally 1000s of years as it struggled with shifting identities and changes in power.

Earlier eras seemed to express the “Art of War” with magnificent armor and breathtaking swords made by master craftsmen. As history worked its way closer to the 20th century, however, the horrors of conflict became more apparent and relentless.

What touched me most deeply in recent wars was a replica Kamikaze airplane. It was suspended graciously from the ceiling, a delicate Sakura blossom on the tip, a round red sun behind. I could sense the vulnerability and resolved determination of those highly intelligent, acutely aware young men, consciously flying to their deaths.

I thought of today’s terrorists and wondered what contrasts and parallels will be found as research opens up some of the unanswered complexities of past and current wars stemming from people’s troubling beliefs and actions.

Yasukuni Jingu is indeed a very meaningful Japanese memorial.  

But as my other Japanese friends have pointed out, it is incorrect to equate Yasukuni Shrine with the Budou Spirit. The Japanese Mind and the Budou Spirit are different, even though they may overlap. In my visit, I came to realize that the Budou Mind is not exclusive to one culture or nation, as proud as many Japanese are of it.

Of course, it requires a certain sensitivity and the correct attitude, proper training and ongoing discipline. But in essence the Budou Spirit is not about outer wars fought by one nation. Rather it entails the ongoing struggle of self striving to master one’s own ego, seeking an inner ideal. And being a dimension of Mind, the Budou Spirit is open to all. And as such it is World Heritage.

Love,
Anne

 

(1) Even though the friend who told me about his meaningful visit to Yasukuni Shrine equating it with the Budou Mind, other Japanese friends challenged that belief.  They pointed out that the Budou Mind existed long before Yasukuni Shrine was built. And in fact, its purpose was in direct contrast to it.

The Budou Mind has been used for centuries for physical, mental, and spiritual training. The Boshin War ended the rule of the Shogunate, ushering in the Meiji Era in 1868. At that time Japan wanted to reestablish the Emperor system and become more like the West. She wanted to do away with traditional, “outdated” forms of military and mental preparedness that the Budou training represented.  Therefore, the fine art of Budou was downplayed in order for Japan to become more “forward thinking” and to “catch up” with Western powers. 

More specifically, Yasukuni Shrine is devoted to Japanese who fought and died for the Empire of Japan, which existed from 1868 to 1947. That is, from the reestablishment of the Emperor system in the Meiji Era through the Taishou and part of the Showa Periods.

Other buildings in that complex honor non-Japanese who served Japan. And yet another building commemorates all those who died in WWII, no matter their nationality. There is also a museum that depicts the history of conflicts in this archipelago for over 2300 years. 

By equating Yasukuni Jingu with the Budou Mind, my friend has blended Budou with Japanese nationalism. However, they are actually very distinct, even directly opposed to one another. In fact, in today’s Japan, religion and politics are separate. No Japanese Emperor has ever visited Yasukuni Shrine since WWII, although several Prime Ministers have.

 

Yasukuni Shrine is extremely controversial. It is a Shinto Shrine that was built to commemorate Japanese war dead. Every country honors its fallen soldiers. So in that way Yasukuni Shrine is not unique. But what makes it questionable is that WWII convicted Class-A war criminals, performing crimes against humanity, are also interred there. And in the past few years, several Prime Ministers have gone to pay their respects to fallen heroes, not distinguishing between those who served the country honorably and those who abominably abused their positions of power. (1) Understandably, countries neighboring Japan are furious by the overt display of nationalism that these visits by Prime Ministers seem to suggest.

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? 

Dear Family and Friends

One university where I teach is for women from well-heeled families.  Most of the students are intelligent and motivated, so it is a pleasure working with them. My writing classes are particularly satisfying because the students’ steady progress can so clearly be seen. So, I like to give them as much responsibility for their own learning as I can. If they are exceptionally eager and well prepared, I encourage them to do an independent research project.

This semester one student, Misaki, chose a topic that came directly from her own experiences. Last year she went alone to Los Angeles and this year to New York. She loved them both, and wants to return to America someday. But what disturbed her was the number of homeless people she saw. “Seeing those people really shocked me. I couldn’t imagine a life like that. It was so unsettling that it made me want to know more about this situation. That’s why I chose the research topic of homelessness.”

Her exploration has lifted her out of her comfortable worldview. Her upbringing and Japanese media never allowed her to see what was actually going on around her. But suddenly she sees street people everywhere. “They’re a lot quieter here than in America,” she observed. “They don’t sit on the street with a cup and a sign begging for money. In fact, they seem to be saying, ‘Don’t notice me, please.’ But even so, they are everywhere here: in parks, in train stations, in underground passageways. I’m amazed.”

Of course, I encouraged Masaki to volunteer at Imai Sensei’s Yomawari Group. That day she helped dish up rice. 

And then she assisted men to select a nice shirt or trousers. 

“These people are so polite. My image is changing once again. I went from the idea that there were no homeless here to being rather afraid of them. But now I see they’re people just like you and me. There’s such a thin thread between having a normal life and living on the street. I am surprised to find myself admiring these people very much. Life is really hard for them. And what sort of a future do they have? But they don’t give up. And today some of the men even told jokes and got everyone laughing.

“Wow! I have so much more to learn. My outlook is changing rapidly. So, I have to stay open so my opinions can keep pace with my experiences. Mind and heart: it’s important they work together as a team.”

Later I got a message from Imai Sensei. His weary outlook is also grounded in years of direct experiences. “We have some new comers – I mean, homeless people — this time, too. Some of them are in their 20s. We are afraid that they were sent to a construction site by a bad broker, who pockets a kickback from their wages. Sometimes they realize what is going on after a few months. Only a few of them {the bad brokers} are accused, because most workers are scared of YAKUZA.”
 
The problems are very deep. And that makes us even more aware that our humanity is one. 

“Kizuna” — we are here to help each other.

Love,
Anne

Dear Family and Friends,

Worry. Apprehension. Fear.
The hallmarks of our era.
Whatever shocks and awes absorbs our greatest attention.
Extremes are never enough.

Amid the noise, where is the promised Still Small Voice?
Does it exist?
Has it ever?

If so, how can we find it;
Open our hearts to it; allow it to flood our being?
Not as a tsunami.

But as pre-dawn sunlight awakening the day.
The great unfolding of night, of sleep, of dream.
The intuitive hovering of animals.

Or the promise of plants.
Emerging out of darkness.
Silent, ever unfolding.

Dear Family and Friends,

Some Japanese say they love “shinryoku”, new greens, even more than Sakura. The freshness of emerging life is uplifting and joyous. Many people celebrate by taking walks in the park or strolls along riverbeds.

Love,
Anne

Dear Family and Friends,

Several days ago there were two massive earthquakes in Kumamoto, a prefecture far to the south of where I live. Buildings tumbled, people died, and water and electricity were cut. Even now many are still housed in shelters, while aftershocks and mudslides continue to threaten both cities and towns.

Rescue workers and relief efforts are in full force as the area struggles to contend with the ongoing physical, emotional, and mental devastation. Those professionals are exceedingly well trained and prepared, so locals, although shattered, know they are receiving the best assistance possible. Likewise, miraculously, as of now all tsunami warnings have been lifted. And the nearby nuclear plant, ironically in a place called Sendai, is reported to be undamaged and functioning properly. These important things provide a flicker of hope in this time of great trauma and despair.

The intensity and tragedy of this situation are a definite reality of the complexity of the Japanese experience. Yet even as this nightmare overwhelms people in Kyushu, and our sincere concerns, prayers, and assistance extend to them, we know and have to accept that sadness is never the full picture. Japanese innately know that whatever is true is always balanced by its opposite, which can be equally as true, and often happening at the same time. Indeed, one such counterpoint to the Kumamoto tragedy is the delicacy of Sakura, cherry blossoms. They are coming to full expression throughout the nation at this very moment.

Dear Family and Friends,

Nature and Science. Two powerful forces precariously teetering in their ongoing attempts to find balance. Hopefully, what they build outweighs what they destroy. But no guarantees. Climate change, pushing us to the edge of challenge, yet opening opportunities to shift values, to see ourselves and our creations – even our most advanced technology – as an integral part of the Nature World, the Web of Life.

Last weekend OISCA took a group if us to the coast to check on “our” trees, last year’s and the year before’s. We saw how each year a new level of branches shoots outward, the most recent stretching upward, delighting in life, hoping to embrace the sky.

We stumbled our way over soft earth, covered with wood chips, and trenches to catch life-giving water, much needed this year of minimal snow and rain. We learned how crucial caring for the roots is, and how red pines and black have different needs.

It is obvious that OISCA and those working with them are professionals, people who love the land and who know best how to care for it. Their nurturance blends the expertise of science and farming with the tenderness of devoted parental care. The results are abundant life and a survival rate of over 99%.

In stark contrast were adjacent patches, planted by a profit-oriented company. The trees there looked sad and weak, dwarfs next to their neighbors, although planted at the same time.

OISCA and all those who assist use Science in total accord with the Nature it serves. 100 years from now, 200 (?), 1000 (?) . . . We are planting today so the future, which we personally will never see, will prosper.

Love,
Anne

Dear Family and Friends,

March 11, 2016 was a gorgeous day. The air was cold and sharp, the sky was cloudy, but kind. It was a perfect day for turning inward to honor the past. It was a perfect day to look outward to continue the long stretch of becoming.

Downtown Sendai that day was bustling. Life as usual. The coastal areas were alive, too, but in a very different way. This year marked the 5th anniversary of the Great East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami. So, memorial services were plentiful and well attended. I returned to Arahama, where I had explored several weeks before, because of the special event being held there.

I arrived before the official program began. I wanted to attune to the place, the energy there, and sense how it differed from my recent visit when I was alone. People had already begun to assemble. Some gathered near the landmark elementary school, now ruined and empty. Others clustered at the temporary Buddhist temple. But most headed straight to the statue of Kannon, The Goddess of Mercy, who remained standing despite the powerful force of the tsunami that demolished everything around Her. Behind Her was the new tsunami wall, which many had climbed to bow their deepest respects to the life-giving, life-destroying sea beyond.

Soon after that we released hundreds of bright, happy eco-balloons, each holding seeds of flowers and of hope. Those were met by an unexpected gentle snow: surely a message of reciprocal love. As the balloons drifted upward, we waved to them and to the heavens. 

Then we shifted our focus back to the here and now, to the future, always aware we stand on the foundation of our true teachers, those who came before.

Love,
Anne

November 2015, sent in January 2016

Dear Family and Friends,

Every time I write to you, my focus is on positive developments in the Tohoku area of Japan. Despite more attention-grabbing events elsewhere, it seems important to continue reporting on constructive progress happening here. These changes may be small and quiet, but even so, they can be highly significant, at least to some.

There is a small coastal town just south of Sendai called Natori. One section of it is named Yuriage, perched right on the edge of the sea.  So, of course, it was obliterated by the 2011 tsunami. That unwelcomed monster consumed not only the town itself, but even more tragically, well over half its residents.

But now almost five years later, the area has been impressively transformed.  It is almost entirely cleared of rubble, and land is being elevated, hopefully to block other tsunami from entering the area. Also very happily, the fabulous Sunday morning market has reopened.

Yuriage’s fish market is very popular, despite its very early hours. People flock there to enjoy seafood fresh from the ocean, and vegetables straight off the nearby farms. In fact, the seafood is so fresh it goes directly from boats to stalls, to customers’ hands to grills, where it is cooked and eaten immediately.

Next to this market there is a wooden building called The Maple House. It was donated by a Canadian project called The Canada-Tohoku Friendship Program. It is as much an educational center as a place to relax. This lovely edifice offers a small shop of Canadian and local goods, an ongoing video of the tsunami, and a pleasant restaurant.

Recently I went there with a Canadian friend. The manager was beside himself that a Canadian was there. “A Canadian!” he shouted with delight. “We are so grateful to your country. It is because of you that we are where we are today. I have been to Canada several times to bow my deepest gratitude. I want to go again to continue letting the Canadian people know the extent of our appreciation. We have our lives back because of you.”

Besides The Maple House, there are other very meaningful memorials nearby. One is a small makeshift museum filled with artwork and stories that children made as a way to come to terms with their losses. A very touching display of clay figures depicts how their town was before the tsunami. On the wall behind it are photos of Yuriage just after the tsunami and now.

“We did this for healing. Many of these children became orphans on March 11. We think that if they go back and construct what they had, they can develop courage to rebuild their own lives now and in the future.”

 Just outside this museum there are two mounds. One is new and has a hope-filled sculpture of a seedling emerging from the earth and starting to sprout. Its height is exactly that of the 2011 tsunami. 

The other is a small sacred hill, built long before the disaster hit. At the summit is a Shinto shrine. Fishermen have been going there for centuries to pray before and after their journeys at sea. Those left behind also visit there, using it as a lookout, hoping for signs of their returning men.

Besides the shrine, there is a very old, gnarled pine tree, a tori gate, and several origami-covered memorials. Today people come by the busload to pray for the souls of those lost and to bless those who remain.

Yuriage is indeed a special place. Eternity is crowded into its compact area, offering its ongoing story of depth and darkness, hope and joy.

Love,

Anne

Dear Family and Friends,

Otsuki Sensei is a remarkable man. 

He grew up in rural Fukushima Prefecture and has wonderful tales of his childhood. His large family home, for example, had a thatched roof. And at night he would listen to the chewing of the silk worms in the attic as he lay on his thin futon next to his many siblings. 

When they were not working in the fields, all the kids would splash around the edges of the paddies, poke at frogs and insects, pick fruit and indulge in its delicious sweetness. They would also swim in the rivers and catch fish with their bare hands. And of course, they would have an equally as marvelous time exploring the nearby woods.

“It was such a happy time,” Ostuki Sensei says with a nostalgic laugh. “We were free, but also very connected to nature and the responsibilities of living on a farm.”

His love of the land led Otsuki Sensei to become a geologist. “I study the past, of course. But my field of interest is the future. How can we look carefully at the patterns of rocks and earth and decipher their profound stories? And how can we then use what we learn to predict what might happen in the future?  Geology is not a precise science, but in a country as vulnerable as Japan, a forward perspective is crucial. We have live volcanoes, frequent earthquakes, devastating tsunami, inundating mudslides, and overwhelmingly destructive fires. So, it is important to have at least a small sense of when and where these life-threatening events will occur.”

But Otsuki Sensei goes further than that. “I was born just after WWII. I remember the stories my grandparents and parents told me. I realize that war is more destructive than any natural disaster could ever be. And so, I put all my efforts into working for peace. The issue of changing our constitution to permit the Japanese military to be more actively involved in war is very disturbing to me. So, I knew I had to do something. I joined a group of like-minded people: young and old, intellectuals and manual laborers, salary men and students. We are a large mix of people with one idea: PEACE.

“I went with this group twice to Tokyo to demonstrate. To our great disappointment, the change was pushed through, despite extensive opposition. Even so, we have not stopped our efforts. We are still very passionate about this complex, history-changing issue. You might not see as many of us on the streets in Sendai since the vote, but we are still demonstrating here and in Tokyo. There are other organizations involved, too. Maybe the most famous is SEALDs (Students’ Emergency Action for Liberal Democracy.) In fact, we plan on having mass rallies in Tokyo on the 19th of every month. We chose that date because this very controversial bill was forced through on that day in September. And of course, we are voicing our concerns on Social Media. We are doing our best to make people wake up and to resist the government’s choice of allowing a militaristic path to deal with political issues.

“Democracy demands knowledge and responsibility. So it is vitally important that we be aware of what is happening. And it is equally as important that we have the courage to work peacefully for a peaceful world.”

Love,
Anne

Dear Family and Friends,

As you may remember, last January ISIS beheaded two Japanese. Of course, the news rocked this nation. It also resulted in a very lively discussion about Islam in my adult English class. Even though I knew a bit about that “Religion of the Book”, and did my best to portray it in a positive light, I felt it was unfair of me to try and answer my students’ deep and complex questions, blended with confusion and shock. I realized I needed help.

As an aside, on personal level, I had two questions of my own. What is the appeal of Islam that is causing it be the fastest growing religion in the world? And maybe more importantly, what is Islam’s contribution to the ongoing evolution of the human soul?

Tohoku University, fortunately in Sendai, has many foreign students. I happened to know a Muslim from Algeria, and asked him to come to my class to teach us about his religion. He was not able to come, but his Jordanian friend, Anas, could.

When I contacted Anas, his kind reply was:

I do, fully, understand the purpose behind your reaching out to Muslims; and I do, truly, appreciate your doing so. Consequently, I will be happy to come and talk to your class.

I, of course, was both thrilled and relieved to receive his assistance.

The speech Anas gave was about the basics of Islam. It was clear and well organized. 

 
One key point that emerged was that Islam was more than a religion. It was a way of life. He also emphasized the distinction between religion, politics, economics, and tribal customs. Unfortunately, very often these become confused in people’s thinking.

Anas touched only briefly upon the issue of gender in Islam. He did not mention the remarkable work being done by Musawah, a group striving to empower women in the Islamic world. He did say, however, that according to the Quran, depending on gender, physical and physiological structures and needs were different. That was why the teachings of Islam regarding this issue were built upon justice, not equality. Another way of saying that might be: “Not the same, but fair”.

One example he gave of this concerned inheritance. According to the Quran, when the parents died, all the children were to receive part of the estate. However, male children were to receive a specific amount more than their sisters. The reason being that in Islamic societies men were the main breadwinners, so needed more to support the family.

He added that since Islam had many sects, the understanding of the Quran differed accordingly. When there were conservative men involved, for example, the interpretation differed greatly from when more open-minded men or women were doing the interpreting. He went on to say, “Muslims were all supposed to be moderately-conservative, as well as tolerant. However, some old tribal, cultural, and even linguistic values or notions did affect some Muslim societies’ understanding of Islam and the Quran.”    

As for the problems with ISIS, Anas felt that it was a total aberration of his beloved religion. He considered this horror to be an outcome of politics and economic hardships. And he emphasized it was in no way connected to Islam. To quote him exactly, “These people, ‘terrorists’, have no understanding of the religion. They were frustrated by injustice and the situation in their societies {and} thus, found ventilation in violence.”   

As for Sunni-Shi’a conflicts, Anas said that until the beginning of the past decade, the two branches of Islam were not discussed. That included in his family, in the street, at school, or through media. However, about ten years ago, major political events started taking place in the Middle East and around the globe. That was when Sunni-Shi’a differences began to be mentioned and emphasized.

Of course, the students and I learned a lot from his thought-provoking lesson, and asked innumerable questions. Later, several of the class members sent me their reactions:

Thank you for the interesting English class last Wednesday and sending me a photo. I am glad that I had opportunity to hear about various issues regarding Islam directly from a young, gentle Muslim. I supposed that most Muslims might have a very rigid idea in his creed. To my surprise, it seems to me that he has a very “flexible idea” about Islam. I wish from the bottom of my heart that every Muslim had the same “flexible idea” on the religion as he had. 

* * * * *

Thank you, too, for giving us an opportunity to learn about Muslim.
Anas San’s lesson was great.
It seemed that he prepared carefully and very sincerely.

In fact, he corrected one of my stereotypes.
I mean, I was thinking the same question as he said that he was once asked in Hong Kong; ‘Is he Sunni or Shia sect?’
But he said, ‘I am Muslim.’
It was really impressive for me.
Knowing nothing is dangerous but knowing a little is more scary, because that can lead you to a fixed idea, I think.

* * * * *

His lecture made Islamic culture feel a little closer to me.
His story about Ramadan reminded me of my experience of being on a diet.
He said not drinking water during the day doesn’t make him proud, which was impressive.

But I also realize tin Islam the genders are clearly divided.
Today’s class was from the male perspective.
It would be very interesting having a Muslim woman come to class and tell us of her feelings and experiences as a practicing Muslim.

* * * * *

As I write this, it is the holy month of Ramadan, so Muslims all over the world are fasting. Breaking fast is called Iftar. Every Sunday evening a special Iftar is held by Muslims in Sendai. Anyone is welcome. Anas has invited me to go this coming Sunday. Of course, I said yes. I will take my former student Toshi, who is thinking of marrying an Indonesian, but must convert to Islam to do so.

Eventually, Toshi may become a Muslim, but I will not. Even so, we both feel that knowledge can bring respect. And our little efforts toward better understanding something as powerful as Islam may be one small step to help change the world for the better.

I will close this letter in the way that Anas ended a message to me.

Be Always Blessed, My Friends.

Salam,
Anne

Dear Family and Friends,

Every now and then life allows us the privilege of meeting someone particularly pure. When that happens, things seem to shift ever so subtly. And then the world becomes more promising and hopeful. Recently such a person crossed my path. And since his story is rather unique, I would like to share it with you.

The other day a friend showed me a pamphlet that he had received from a shop owner down the street. It had photos of exquisitely executed copper items: bowls, vases, cups, and pitchers. The work seemed very modern. And yet, there was a distinctly traditional Japanese essence to each piece. I was fascinated, so went to find the workshop. And there, to my surprise, right in the large storefront window, a young man in traditional clothes was hammering away at a copper bowl.

         

       

Zen San went on to tell me how he had learned this craft. He never finished high school, considering it a waste of time. Instead he stepped out into the world, floundered a bit, but finally settled back into his family business as an apprentice coppersmith. At that time there were twenty craftsmen, all well over sixty. Zen San was only fifteen, but he was eager to learn. One of these gentlemen took Zen San under his wing and mentored him with great care and precision. Zen San learned well. After two years, he was allowed to make his own piece solo. It has a place of honor in his shop today.

At eighteen, Zen San realized he wanted to learn even more, so applied to an art university that had courses in metalwork. The administration was open minded enough to honor his years of work experience, so accepted him into the program. Zen San absorbed all he could. He moved beyond pragmatic items and began experimenting with other ideas. His work became more delicate and more his own. After two years, he left university, returned to Sendai and opened his own shop in the front of his family’s boiler business. 

     

Now his studio faces the street, so any passersby can see him pounding away on one of his pieces. He is the only craftsman, since all the others have retired. In fact, Zen San may be the only coppersmith left in all Tohoku. It is impressive that someone so young is keeping up the tradition, and doing quite well. 

He is successful because each of the pieces he designs is individually crafted and made to order, so no two are alike. In a subtle way, each item carries the essence of Zen San’s skill, and also the long history of his family trade.

I asked him how the events of 2011 affected his business. That was a time when people could only focus on survival, nothing extra. Zen San told me he stopped working for two years, married, and had twins. The shattering events of March 11 were a wake up call. He had always lived outside the norm, but when the world turned upside down, he realized even more strongly that his life had to be his own. Living it each day fully focused, creating, caring, and loving are all that matter to him now.  And he hopes to instill those values into his children, whom he adores.

I listened to this lovely young man, so pure, and so full of creativity, skill, and training. And I realized he manifests what Tokoku is struggling so hard to bring about: a creative rebuilding into the future, while being appreciative of all – absolutely all – that has come before.

Love,
Anne