Homebody

When life moves you around a lot, it's easy to get confused. Don't get me wrong, I know exactly what I want and where I want to be. But it's not what I would've initially expected.

This winter, I traveled from Yokosuka, Japan to Yokota. Then it was back to Yokosuka and on to Tokyo to fly from Narita International Airport to Minneapolis/St. Paul via Guangzhou, China and LAX. The next five weeks were a refreshing whirlwind - seeing family, catching up with long-time friends, enjoying holidays - and it's clear that Minnesota is my home. During that time, I bounced back and forth between there and my other familiar and alma mater town, Madison, WI, for a friend's wedding festivities. We are now in the middle of a 4-week stint in Dahlgren, Virginia. Minnesota was a fantastic time, and I was filled to the brim by people I can't wait to live life with again. Someday.

But I miss Japan.

I miss the culture. I miss the tight spaces. I miss some of the little things. I somehow even miss being a minority. It sobers you. I miss the trains, and I miss the convenient stores. I miss my neighborhood, though I can communicate with only one of my neighbors. I miss the way it feels. I miss taking out trash every day. I miss biking everywhere. I miss our tiny little house and our ornery cat. He's bothering someone else for now.

I guess what I'm saying is that Japan is truly home now. But just for now. And you know, that feels nice. To know we are able to make home where we are. And to actually feel pain for not being there, though it's not Minnesota. How strange, that a place 8000 miles from our hometown with a culture so vastly different from the one we were brought up in, can make us fall in love with it.

Lessons from C.S.

My husband is a hero. Back in June, my dearly beloved MacBook crashed, taking all of my precious documents with it. I'm not exactly tech savvy, to the point where I don't even understand all the possibilities. But Curtis came to my rescue without me asking and had my hard drive taken out and cased. My various documents are now all converted to iTunes and ready for upload on my iPad.

Lord knows I love that man.

One of my rediscovered documents was Chapter 6 from C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity on the topic of marriage. Guh, it is so good! I keep it as a reminder of the bigger picture, of who we are in marriage and the beauty of how it was designed and is orchestrated. It is refreshing to read something this wholesome when I am too often reminded of some of the modern-day views of marriage. To me, many are incomplete and superficial.

Here are my favorite quotes from C.S.:

The Christian law is not forcing upon the passion of love something which is foreign to that passion’s own nature: it is demanding that lovers should take seriously something which their passion itself impels them to do. And, of course, the promise, made when I am in love and because I am in love, to be true to the beloved as long as I live, commits me to being true even if I cease to be in love. A promise must be about things that I can do, about actions: no one can promise to go on feeling in a certain way. He might as well promise never to have a headache or always to feel hungry.

Being in love is a good thing, but it is not the best thing. There are many things below it, but there are also things above it. You cannot make it the basis of a whole life. It is a noble feeling, but it is still a feeling. Now no feeling can be relied on to last in its full intensity, or even to last at all. Knowledge can last, principles can last, habits can last; but feelings come and go.

But, of course, ceasing to be ‘in love’ need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense - love as distinct from ‘being in love’ - is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by (in Christian marriages) the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God.

‘Being in love’ first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. It is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it.

[on the longevity of being in love] This is, I think, one little part of what Christ meant by saying that a thing will not really live unless it first dies. It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill: that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go - let it die away - go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow - and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time.

What Am I Doing Here?

I know exactly what I want to do when I grow up.  Yes, as a 25-year-old, I still have some growing to do.  I thought this clarity would be freeing, and it often is.  Whenever I am tempted to compare myself to someone else and their professional path, I can easily go back to thoughts on what's mine.  It's then that I realize that there's nothing to compare, since I don't want their professional path anyway.  

But there is still so much struggle.  How to get there.  How to make my time count towards it when I live overseas.  How our future kids may factor in.  I'm in the lull.  I'm not even sure I should call it a lull because the preparation matters too.  The balance between waiting and reflecting and searching and constructing and acting is difficult to find.  Should I always act and think later?  What are the actions?  There's no particular right set of stepping stones, but I still long for some guidance.  That's the thing, it's all on me.  Even when others offer advice, I am unsettled.  Because I need to start.  Or keep going.  The process needs to be mine first.  

Sometimes I long for convention.  I want to give up and find a normal job and live a normal life.  Just to find stability or feel like I'm an adult.  But then I say that out loud and want to slap myself.  

So here I am.  Living in the process.  Finding some sort of way, and feeling like a late bloomer.  Frustrated and frantic at times.  But full of peace and yearning in others.  Impatient with myself, but glad to be on an unorthodox and organic path.

Cheers.

Between the idea

And the reality

Between the motion

And the act

Falls the shadow

(T.S. Eliot The Hollow Men)

Jane of the Jungle

Monday was a great day.

I made my way up to the University of Tokyo with great anticipation.  Jane Goodall (THE Jane Goodall) was going to give a lecture on campus.  And I got to see her, AND hear her speak, AND get her autograph. 

Sigh.  I love her.

 

Jane told lots of stories about Gombe, where she did her research, and the chimpanzees there.  She even told us about her childhood and the important role that her mother played.  But the most refreshing part of her talk was her hope.  She came to speak to us primarily as a conservationist, and most her field have messages that are overwhelmingly depressing and desperate.  Maybe the situation is desperate, I don't know, but looking at the whole picture is more than we can handle.  Jane admitted that we are in bad shape.  But she had amazing hope for the oodles of young people living and acting responsibly, those choosing to not just learn, but to act and tell.  Coming from a woman whose done natural research since 1960 and has been involved in the discussion of conservation for decades?  It meant a lot. 

 

So thanks, Jane.  Here's to you. 

Just Can't Get Enough

Life is weird.

 

I would say that I’ve had the biggest struggle this year with my purpose. What am I doing here? What should I be doing now? Am I wasting my degree? Where is this all going? 

 

But the ironic thing is, I’ve also had the most frequent moments of clarity.  Where your heart beats inside your ears because you are experiencing something (or even just thinking about something) that affects you so deeply that it’s impossible to ignore.  And that, my friend, is when you know what you ought to do with your life.

 

Today was part chaos, part awesome.  I volunteered at the zoo, like I do most Sundays.  Our program involves a horn and antler display, and it’s always a struggle to present an Indian Elephant tusk or Arabian Oryx horn in Japanese.  There are weeks it’s fun and people are forgiving and though it’s a challenge, I make it through just fine.

 

Then there are days like today.  The people are constant, and overwhelming.  The kids are crazy.  The questions are non-stop.  And after about an hour, my brain is fried and I am just spent.  Other volunteers have to compensate for my lack of language ability, and I’m wondering why I even went for volunteering at a zoo where I can’t communicate well.  

 

What am I doing here?

 

But.  Then.

 

Morikaku san (the most hilarious zoo keeper I’ve ever met, and I can’t even understand him most of the time) told me that Miruku, our friendly female giraffe, had a BABY.  He took us volunteers behind the scenes and showed us Mama and baby, just one month old.  It was captivating, and I was so blessed to be standing that close to a giraffe that young.  She was absolutely fantastic; she took my breath away and made me forget the crappy day I had been having. 

 

It’s amazing that when you’re in your element, you’re just in your element, and nothing can steal your joy. 

In a Nutshell

So this is what we did in Singapore ...

 

We shopped in Little India.

 

 

We saw a lot of color.  Wowza!

 

 

We stumbled upon a rustic book store.

 

And a parrot farm.

 

 

We drank a lot of coffee.  Clearly.

 

We went to the Singapore Art Museum.  And marveled at how modern and most definitely not typical it all was.

 

 

We got swedish massages. Mmm.

 

We discovered the most perfect swing in a coffee shop in Holland Village.

 

 

We visited a fantastic national park.

 

And went inner-tubing and got a boat ride.

 

 

We got a blow pipe lesson. 

 

 

We met a very cranky fish.

 

 

We stayed in a swanky hotel for one night.

 

 

And I came home to a very under-satisfied affection junkie.

 

 

Welp, I'd call that a complete trip.  :)

The Good Samaritans

I went.  I saw.  I conquered. 

 

In other words, I LOVE Singapore. 

 

I'll put up photos and stories as I go, but seeing as it's the day after I arrived back in Japan, I need a little down time.  At the same time, I simply cannot wait to tell you just a little tidbit about what I first noticed.

 

Singaporeans are fantastic.  They are friendly and they go out of their way to help you.  Actually.  It's what we all dream to embody as a global (national, local... ) community. 

 

I flew into Changi Airport, and had decided to take the metro to my hotel.  I'm a train fiend in Japan, and the Singaporean lines seemed (and are) relatively simple.  A train came, and I was unsure whether or not to get on.  An old man approached me, asked me what station I sought, told me to get on, where to transfer and even which side of the platform to transfer to.  Boom, so helpful.

 

My husband and I are coffee shop hunters (see our well-intended yet temporarily neglected coffee blog here).  Not only does it get us great coffee from various cultures, it allows us to see the back alleys and undiscovered coves of a city.  A local feel, if you will.  We were hunting 40 Hands Coffee and definitely walking in the wrong direction.  As soon as a confused look even crossed our faces, a woman was at our aid and pointing us in the right direction, which happened to be the opposite way.

 

I could go on with approximately 37 more stories about how I benefitted from the help of strangers in Singapore, but I guess that would be overdoing it.  Moral of the story: go to Singapore and realize that we can all do better.