100 Wonderful Things about Japan (Particularly Oita)

The idea to write this list came to me in the shower, when it dawned on me that this year I will have lived in Oita for 10 years. To mark the occasion, I decided to do a ritual that my sister always does at the New Year. She thinks about the year and writes 100 wonderful things from it. In that spirit, surely I can find at least 10 in each year, starting with this towel that I use to wash my back with in the shower. Here goes a start:

Long and narrow washcloths made perfectly for getting around the back;
tatami floors; the herons at the castle park; my daughter, who was born here almost 10 years ago; the curtains on trains and boats that make them feel so homey; mentaiko spaghetti; Hotojima; the “to-ma-re” (止まれ) painted on the roads; the Yamazaki Bread Truck; the kanji “AI”(愛); the words I can’t understand; karaoke; the cherry trees at the Castle Park when they blossom and all year round; the coffee shop ‘Friends;’ the kindness of the people at the Red Cross Hospital (where my daughter was born, and where we go for most ailments); white herons in the rice fields; wet rice fields in the summer landscape; Mt. Fuji from the airplane when it reveals itself; Mt. Fuji from the airplane when it only reveals a tiny piece; a field in Yufuin with a cypress tree that I love; the bicycle path along Oita River; Rose; the International Plaza; the irises; the band Tulip; tulips; some old songs whose names I do not know; taking off shoes inside the home; sleeping on futons; “tsuki-mi” (moon watching); low summer clouds; the yellow of the ginko trees in fall; chestnuts; those vanilla ice cream bars with azuki beans inside; the bread at Prendre Courage; the patterns; pink plastic furoshikis; cloth furoshikis; drying laundry outside (both the economy of it and the sensation); black ink on paper; Matsuo Basho; Steven’s (and Miki’s) pizza; Marie’s yoga; Keiko’s yoga; my Japan family; Yoshida Shokudoo; my first boat ride from Tsukumi…

What are your 100 favorite things?

The pool lobby, last swim of the year

As I step into my clogs at the entrance/exit to leave the pool, I peek into the glass enclosed office and stop for a moment to say a New Year's greeting to the staff (thank you and have a happy new year). All are standing or sitting and doing various tasks. Then, all at once, as if choreagraphed, they act as one: about 5 men and women turn to face in my direction, make a low bow, and in unison lower their heads to say "yo-i-o-toshi-o", wishing me the same.

Swimming meditation

Today, thanks to the dolphins, or from looking into blue yesterday, I had a fantastic swimming moment. The first 1000m I trudged along, knowing it's my last swim of the year. Adding a little extra push for the effort.
Then when I hit 1km I used a buoy for my legs so just my arms propelled me.
The water encased me in its fluidity, I wasn't doing any effort and yet I glided thru the luscious blue.

Blues

Santa's leftovers

The afternoon of Christmas Eve

Magic is: to be in the presence of something (or someone) you believe in.

When it pulls away, and you are standing with two feet firmly on the same ground from which you watched it, you feel it's absence. Things return, for the most part, to their 'normal state'.

Except that something is transformed, and you remain for a moment where the world has been turned into a place for
wonder.

Near-end-of-the-year Entry (Kuru kuru sushi)

The rolls pass us by
as the plates pile up.
The days roll on by as one year nears it's end.
But in fact nothing ends,
it just turns round the bend.

Yuzu Bath

Kotatsu cafe

I say to the man who brings us oranges,
'I feel like I'm in a dream.'
He smiles,
as if he knows it's true, where in this life can you sit on mats
at a low table, with heat emanating from under a cozy blanket keeping us warm
in the outside night air.

Trees are illuminated with blue lights and people are on a stage in the middle of water, singing gospel and tap dancing.
There's no bridge (see, it must be a dream... how did they get there?)

He tells us in the dark of the Kotatsu Cafe in the park that tonight, it's
all-you-can-eat oranges and barley tea. Another young man in a similar kimono-like jacket then comes by to remove anything we don't need from the table, and disposes of it into a large nylon bag.

Be Brave (to me, inspired by a chance meeting at the bread shop)

If the present moment is
that which exists
between 3 forks and a chopsticks,
I must look into that space on the table
and know
that I am able
to write.

(leave space for a photo,
but don't put one in.)

Fragment

There are places for poems
here is one
My pad rests on my knee
as I write it down

A poem to a tree

Oh not just any tree,
you know that to me you're
the sap of the sap,
you're the king of the hill
Embrace me with your tranquility.
As I rest my crown in your crown
feel my roots in the ground
Let a white light spill down as the stream
trickles past.
I'm in you, you're in me
like the shape of the peak of Mt's Yu-fu/Fu-ji;
A Japanese eight, getting wider at the base.

(note: to make the text in the shape of a Japanese eight, a mountain from its peak getting wider at the base)

Bookshelf

From "The Night Kitchen", in English and Japanese versions. It's such a fun book to read aloud.

Did you ever hear of Mickey, how he fell through the night, into the light of the Night Kitchen?
Where the Bakers who bake till the dawn so that we can have cake in the morn...

ミッキーのはなし、しってるかい？
まよなかに　あんまり　さわがしいおとが　するので　　どなったら。。。

the Joy of making gingerbread cookies while listening to Billy Joel

A list:

Pouring the Molasses,
listening to Cold Spring Harbor.

Sifting the flour

being in a warm apartment with the sunlight filling the east windows

breathing in between steps

taking out the worn recipe from a a file

Listening to the lyrics

hearing the piano rifts as I sift

reading the words in English

Anticipating the children's faces as they will later roll, cut and shape the dough

smelling the cinnamon and ginger as the sugar dissolves

watching the white and brown sugar and the balled spoonfulls of ginger and the powdery brown cinnamon dissolve into the molasses

hearing Billy Joel say you can have your cake and eat it too
as I'm getting the batter to turn to dough

tasting a bit of the bitter batter as this song plays
dum dum de dum dum dum de dum

Breathing in the words, the smells,
yes, its been quite a day...

Song of Complements

When I'm with you
I don't need a camera
I don't need a pen
The world is a canvas
on which we are drawn
to each other.

Song of Primaries

Song of Mirrors

But most of all I need to see
it all reflects
back to me.

The Human Heart

is a chamber, it is said.
I now know, it is, a room.
When I approached yours,
I was surprised how it
opened up to let me enter.
I walked slowly and
softly, marvelling at it's vastness.
It was then I knew,
that I was the first person who'd explored
these walls.
Once inside, enveloped by it's fresh warmth,
I stopped
and listened.
For what else does one do
inside a heart.

Beginning and ending w/Here

Here
I am kneeling on the ground
Looking thru slats of the bridge's railing.
Before, there were ducks.
They flew away and now I remain listening to tires that roll swiftly by.
My back faces their race and my front sees the shadow of me down below on the grass
through a grid.
The sun feels so warm as I find myself
here.

Arrow

I say I'm not possesive.
But what is it
then when I need you
like a flower needs the sun.
I need you like a
ship needs the sea.
I need to grow around you like a vine to bamboo
and when I spin the wheel a thousand times
the arrow always points
to you.

(insert here: photo of the archery range by the river.
Looking thru the fence, snap the shutter as an arrow flies by, mid-way in the air)

Photo and winter fashion tips to me from Y

There's tons of fashionable items.
You just have to choose them right,
and you just have to wear them right.

All-day blossoming Morning Glories

All these years of life and only now I know that morning glories come in afternoon, evening, and all-day blooming varieties.
The all-day blossoming morning glories are planted later in the season and blossom up until just before the first frost.

These lines are a fragment snipped from a plant of the all-day blossoming variety. Leaving room in the soil so new ones can grow.

P.S. And she did

Y and M and shiitake

continuation/end of 'story' from the post below, in the order of the day
(And she did...
find her way into this day. Y. and her friend came back home wiith smiles, and bags of veggies picked from the farm.
Despite Y not having gloves.
Lesson to me: don't worry so much, and trust more)

Early Morning Adventure

It was still dark, and I could see some stars poking through the clouds. In the blackness, I woke my daughter who I could barely see under the covers. She was sleeping soundly, cuddled up next to my husband on the futon. Five o'clock, time to wake up, I said firmly. We'd agreed that if she wanted to go with her friend M and M's father to their family farm for the day, she'd have to get up early. They were to pick shiitake mushrooms and, if lucky, see the first real snow. Quietly, in the dark, so as not to wake up "o-too-san", she got up and dressed.

I too had a plan for early this a.m., so I was gathering what I needed and what she needed:
the light for my bike, her over-shirt;
my meditation chants, the box of bread we'd arranged for the family she'd be going with.
She put on her long white puffy winter coat, boots, and leg warmers. I got my bike and we were off to M's house where M and her father were waiting in the darkness. M's father's wool cap was pulled almost over his eyes. I knew M's mother but hadn't met her father before, so it was a mysterious moment to watch my daughter hug M and see the 3 of them disappear into the car and drive off into the dark of day.

I followed them a block or two and then I was off to a destination I barely remembered. I knew that I had to follow the river as far as the 2nd bridge. I crossed my fingers that I would remember the rest. My bicycle light lit the ground directly in front of me, and the rest was dark. I felt my trust in the universe well up as I asked some higher power to recharge my memory of where the house was. At the same time, I remembered my daughter didn't take gloves. The chill waas seeping into my hands as I asked this day one more request: that somehow her little hands would be given a way to stay warm.

Through the tunnel I went, beginning to doubt my ability as a mother---how could I have sent Y off with a nicely wrapped box of bread but no gloves? But I stopped myself. I had to accept that she will find her way through this day,
as I focused my attention on the circle of light just in front of me.

Minutes from Today

Starting with the pink thread that the woman in the cleaner sewed around each stain,
can I record the minutes from this day?
It's a test to remember when I don't write it down immediately.
From where I stand or stood, the words "Ma-gokoro",
True Heart.
The moving spots on the screen, and the doctor in a blue smock telling me in Japanese that
woman's breast tissue is texured in a leapord-spot (hyo-gara) pattern. One of the dots was slightly larger and blacker, 3mm and not to worry, but we should make another appointment for 6 months from now, and
was I a teacher from a camp he'd met before?
No, it wasn't me, yes I'll be here 6 months from now but the spot won't.
I've learned this year of the rat to use energy to rid the things I don't need and to let in the light I do.
It's not perfected yet of course, but that black spot will be gone.
The three day moon is from a storybook,
there are words I don't understand coming from my child's lips as she reads her
homework pages aloud and won't let me take her picture, that's why it's blurry but I like it like that.
Do I need to use words to return
a kiss?

Portrait of a Family of 3 in a Coffee Shop, each with their own cell phone

Laughing, the father holds his, the strap falling cooly over the fingers of his right hand as his eyes glare straight into the screen.

Next to him on a white leatherette couch, the mother makes small circles with her right hand, in which she holds,
a glass. She swirls the ice around as she focuses on the phone in her left hand,
a sleek flat white model. Effortlessly, she types something in.

She raises her eyes long enough to glance at their son across the table, and asks if he needs milk.
The son turns to position himself diaganolly in his chair to rest his right hand comfortably under his chin;
as the phone in his left slants a perfect 45 degrees above his
coffee cup.