Leaping Before Looking

The sense of danger must not disappear:
The way is certainly both short and steep,
However gradual it looks from here;
Look if you like, but you will have to leap.

by W.H. Auden


It's time to move on with my life...literally and figuratively.

This summer, we take up new residence in Denver after 5 years of living in Japan. In the next few, short months, I have to start looking for a new house, cleaning out some scary closets, packing up our house and saying goodbye to a country and friends I love dearly.

There are some big questions to be answered, and much too soonly* for my liking. This fact makes me anxious.

What are we going to?

What do we need to leave behind?

I've grown up a lot in Japan because the lack of choices here has forced me to make due with that I've been given. My life is exceedingly comfortable and happy here. Now, I am going back to the land of unlimited possibilities and I am afraid that I will somehow choose the wrong one. I am starting to feel...overwhelmed.

Should I look before I leap or keep my sense of danger? If you are still reading out there, I would love to hear what you think.

*(I heart Engrish)

Money For Nothing and the Chicks For Free

Tiger Woods is indeed in dire straits.

After years of slumming through the refuse piles of human mind waste that call themselves celebrity “news” outlets, you would think I would be immune to shocking stories of marital betrayal. (Friends, I have a confession. I have not been true to my values and the behavior my family deserves. I regret my past and ongoing transgressions. I read People Magazine Online. Twice daily.)

This current fiasco surprised me greatly…but not because a sports figure was discovered hiking the proverbial Appalachian Trail. I mean, who can take another story about a married, powerful man who is worshipped like a golden calf and then publicly humiliated for not staying true to his stunning and charming wife? (Yawn.)

No, I think it’s the magical thinking swirling around his “transgressions” that befuddles me the most. This fantasy world, where most celebrities live, allows its inhabitants to think that they can actually get something for nothing. All they have to do is walk a red carpet, play a game well and show up to make commercials for junk no one actually needs. In return, they receive obscene amounts of money and endless public adoration (sexual and otherwise). That ain't working.

So when they have to give something valuable back, like their privacy, they just can’t understand why people are so demanding. It’s not “right” to expect people to have no private life. However, it’s also not right that anyone is paid that much to play a game while cancer remains uncured and people are starving. But, as they say in the real world, it is what it is.

The evasion of the inevitable and the whining about the way things are irritates the common folk, like me. If you want true privacy, stop selling yourself. Conversely, if you want to sell yourself, brace for the crash when the siren calls of wealth, privilege and adulation inevitably trick you into running into the rocks.

In the end, we all have choices. For better and (especially) for worse, we should be responsible for them.

And if we aren't, we should prepare for those straits to not only be dire, but downright ugly.

Turning 40: On Not Teaching a New Dog Old Tricks

So today is my fortieth birthday. As I was falling asleep last night, my dear but annoying husband asked me if I had been pondering the significance of the occasion. I quickly mumbled "no" (had a mini-breakdown), rolled over and started to enjoy my 7 hours of mindless bliss.

I woke up to homemade cards and frozen waffles charmingly cut into the shapes of a four and zero. My card from the eldest said, "40 at last!", like I had been waiting for this momentous occasion my whole life. Oooh, if I were only 40, then I could really enjoy all those adult privileges like paying taxes and helping my kid learn her times tables. Yes, at last, I can start (most probably) the last half of my existence!

At last.

Chuckling, I thought about this statement while driving to teach English this morning. As I passed the tollbooth that asked me to "Please Take a Ticket!" in a rather snippy tone, I pondered what idiom I would review with my group today. Perhaps I would revisit the classic adage: "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." For some reason, this phrase always cracks my Japanese students up. Not only is it pertinent to their time in life (they are all retirees) but unfortunately, it now seemed to fit my situation as well.

I don't feel like an old dog, though.

I want to learn new tricks, like surfing and getting lost in places where I can't read the signs and serving others before myself. For the first time in my life, I feel comfortable in my skin, so much so that the vellum wrapping my bones actually seems new and different.

I'm also fairly tired of the old tricks. I'm not interested in keeping up with the Joneses and their premium vehicles. I don't care if their child learned her times tables in first grade and mine is still struggling to get it in the fifth. At least at this point, I'm against fake boobs, fake tans and cosmetic surgery for myself. This is me, lumps, white wrinkles and all. Take it or leave it.

I am literally exhausted of fearing life and other people's judgment about my choices and my body. Those are old tricks to keep the younguns in line and they are losing their persuasive power in my world. Frankly, I don't care what religion people follow or what their exterior life looks like. If fear informs their faith or their actions, I've decided to politely agree with whatever the person is saying/doing and move along to greener pastures. I literally don't have time to waste on nurturing relationships with people who are convinced that their way is perfect, or even worse, the only path to follow.

Don't get me wrong. In the end, I have no desire to go back to being "young", either in mind or body. Sure, it's important to stay in shape in my later years but it's not okay for me to obsess about my every body part. I am also still trying to shed those last vestiges of thinking I know everything...of thinking that my opinion actually affects anyone besides myself and my kids (for a few more years).

After much pondering, I've decided that I don't want to be a puppy.

I just want to be a new dog...one who loves to attempt novel things and fails often. And one who, at last, no longer gives credence to the old tricks that have kept her from growing up.

Very Strange Things, Indeed

Last Tuesday, I went to Zushi to teach my class of retirees like I always do. Things progressed fairly normally--we talked about the Japanese elections, completed a vocabulary drill on strange jobs (it's really difficult for the Japanese to say "hypnotherapist") and took a small break. Afterwards, the students usually each take 5 minutes to tell about their week. Topics usually cover mundane and safe events like grandchildren visiting and places people have just toured.



But this week's discussion went into uncharted territory:

• One woman's deceased mother-in-law visited her during Obon (the Japanese holiday honoring dead anscestors, so that makes sense). In the middle of the night, she heard her MIL approach her bedroom door and then felt her "eyebeams" staring at her through the wood. As she is accenting her vocabulary choice by making motions with her fingers from her eyes to across the room, I felt perplexed. "Eyebeams" didn't seem like the best word but I couldn't figure out a superior one, so "eyebeams" rested as is. However, now I have a vision of a laser-eyed decrepid Japanese grandma taking out my friend in her sleep. She swears she "felt no fear" but I really can't say the same.


• Her husband, the ghost's son, slept through the whole thing.


• Another woman, quite delicate and soft-spoken as well, launched into a story about an accidental run-in with her next door neighbor's son while walking her dog in the wee hours of the morning. After 29 years, he apparently has suddenly decided to start wearing women's clothes in public. She reported that he was wearing a "nice skirt" and "carrying a high quality handbag". People stopped examining their fingernails and started peppering her with questions. Although there are few American sexual/puritanical hangups in Japan, they love to hear about people behaving strangely.


• Yet another lady exclaimed that she had nothing to offer that week but then described the juicy gossip surrounding Mr. Hatoyama, the new Prime Minister, and his wife. Not only was Miyuki Hatoyama married to a lowly sushi bar owner in the states many years ago, but horror of horrors, she divorced him to marry the prime minister. Divorce is a big no-no in Japanese politics.


• ...and so is reporting extraterrestrial sightings. Mrs. Hatoyama, Japan's new First Lady, wrote a book twenty years ago called Very Strange Things I've Encountered, in which she swears her soul was transported to Venus via a "triangular-shaped UFO". This woman is Japanese and was raised in Japan. Did she miss the ubiquitous memo stating "the nail that sticks up is the first to get hammered down"?

Well, it's probably only a matter of time before it's revealed that the new Prime Minister is a cross-dresser and the collective cultural "eyebeams" zero in on his wife. When this story breaks in the main news outlets...please remember: You read it here first.

Second Spring

Motley crews probably shouldn't look so content with life...but these folk are a) retired Japanese b) full of barbequed sea creatures and c) completely wasted on Sam Adams beer.

Our Zushi friends invited Tim and me to a summer barbeque at the marina, partly in honor of his safe return from his seven month tour in Kuwait. A warm day in the sun by the sea with good friends is truly a slice of heaven on earth, especially if they feed you delicious japanese cuisine for three hours straight.

In this petite cultural exchange, both nationalities learned new phrases. During a conversational lull, my gaze wandered to the sun reflecting off the Zushi Bay, the light magically changing the water's surface to hammered silver...so beautifully faceted and dazzling, it momentarily mesmerized me. After I "came to" from my brief revery, I gave a deep sigh, took a swig of my cold green tea, turned to my friend Hiranosan and said, "THIS IS THE LIFE!"

A quizzical look followed. I explained that this English expression is something we say when we are completely comfortable and happy, without a care in the world. (Usually, alcohol and views of the ocean appear in this scenario. But not always.) He nodded enthusiastically, complete understanding lighting up his eyes. "Nancysan!", he exclaimed (Hiranosan exclaims everything), "This is the life of retirement! It is our second spring!"

A Second Spring. What a lovely thought. After the long, hard, hot work of summer comes another chance for refreshment and new growth.

For Japanese people, who generally wake at 6AM, jump on a train at 7AM, spend two hours commuting, 10-12 hours working, 2 hours enterataining clients in the bars after work, and then 2 more hours commuting home, retirement is a chance to live life freely for the first time since childhood. They sail, fish, play golf and tennis, take English lessons and generally enjoy life to the fullest.

I look forward to this carefree existence that hopefully awaits Tim and I in our "golden" years.

Until then, I will enjoy the mini second springs that life awards us along The Path--blessed reunions with my husband after anguishing months apart and joyous get-togethers with all our friends, near and far, who bring us spiritual refreshment, no matter how long it's been since we last enjoyed their company.