♡↔️♡

Last week I had lunch with a friend who told me his father had died rather unexpectedly.

He said that in the few weeks while his dad was sick, before he passed on, they never got the chance to have a heart to heart. How does that feel, I asked.

He told me something we all know: Be ready to let it all go completely when your dad dies. If you have something you want to say or ask, do it now. When the chance is gone, the dwelling can eat you alive.

The thought of talking to my dad in such a deep way feels pretty scary to me.

What if dad doesn’t want to or can’t answer my questions? What if he can’t listen or connect with me emotionally?

Deep or emotional dialogue is not a part of our family life. Nor is physical affection.

The work I did in analysis helped me to see some of the undercurrents of my conscious life, and the family system and history that shaped that undercurrent. But it’s personal work. Talking to my family about the function of our history and systems is not necessary to reap the benefits of analysis.

Here’s something I know to be true: self awareness without healing is worse than a lack of self awareness. Awareness is hard work, but remedying is the hardest work there is in life, and it is lifelong work.

So.

I now understand the value and necessity of deep and emotional dialogue and physical affection. I know that true relationships require these aspects. In the past few years I’ve done hard work to foster dialogue and affection in many important relationships in my life. I’m getting more at ease with deep and honest conversation and physical affection with time and practice. But I haven’t insisted on doing this with my parents because it’s outside the norm for us, and the fear of rejection is uncomfortable for me.

The fact of death asks me to take another look. I have the chance to try because my parents are alive now. There are stories everywhere of people who desperately wish they’d said things to their loved ones. It’s not that they can no longer say these things, it’s that they can no longer say them to the person who is dead.

Letting someone know how they’ve shaped you and what you love about them on their deathbed is probably a good thing to do. However, emotional confessionals before your loved one is surely on their deathbed leave open the possibility of years of awkwardness. It also leaves open the possibility for a new paradigm.

My dad is not well, and we both know it. His heart is failing him. He can have a surgery that might offer him more time to live. Or he may die before the surgery, or during it.

My current and personal ethos on how to live involves understanding the physical and cultural world through the study of science and history and combining that with a diligent respect and interest in the mystical and unknown—the soul.

One of my favorite sayings that I do my level best to apply to life is, to me, a perfect combination of the laws of physics with the spirit of souls: go positive and go first.

When I think about it, dad has already gone positive and gone first.

Last year he had a stroke. A few days later he made sure to tell me that he’s proud of me. That he admires me for my fearlessness and willingness to travel, to immerse myself in otherness. He’s shared with me some of the ways in which our conversations about politics have changed his world view. He told me recently that he stays busy because if he slows down too much, he thinks about death.

Because of these few and brief and relatively recent conversations with dad, I feel his love for me and his pride in me. A gift that I will always cherish.

When dad dies, much of him will live on through me. In fairness, some of what I’ve learned from dad, I’m trying to unlearn. But there is a lot of him that I have inherited, and that I value in myself, and that I want to pass on to my son Toby.

These are a few of the positive aspects of self that I inherited from being my dad’s daughter.

Independence + Interdependence.

I was raised to be self reliant.

If I wanted something material, I knew I needed to work for it.

If it’s broken, my dad can fix it. If it can be built, my dad can build it.

I have two brothers and we were told and taught to stand up for and look out for each other.

Dad had a high level of dignity in providing for his family. He would not take a dime that he did not earn, and he rarely asks for help but offers it often.

Because of dad, I have a fierce independence. I know there is nothing I can’t learn or do. I also know the value of relying on a few trusted people for strength when needed.

Integrity + Honesty.

I’ve lied. And cheated. Each time, the consequence has been internal guilt and shame. Some of the times I’ve lied or cheated, I have excused away due to circumstances or lack of intended harm to others, but the internal consequences remain. I do wish I could get away with some dishonesty without consequence but I know better, and I have always known better.

Dad would absolutely not stand for dishonesty or lack of integrity as I was growing up, and I am better for the harshness he doled out in the face of childhood injustices.

I know that if I act with integrity, I do not need to worry for even one moment what others think of me. This is a real kind of never-fail freedom. I strive to exercise this with every action I take.

Work Ethic.

Strengths are often weaknesses, too. Dad worked too much and still does. So do I, and so do my mom and my brothers. We toil. A family of toilers. And that’s not such a bad thing to be.

My mom and dad live on a houseboat part-time. I visited my dad’s good friend and houseboat neighbor recently to pick blueberries at his farm. While there he expressed his worry about dad. He said that even with dad’s heart condition, he’s still out power-washing, and helping the neighbors, and toiling each day.

I’m grateful for the work ethic my dad instilled in me. I’m also keen to continue learning to incorporate balance with other parts of life. But I know that honest toil is meaning making and I don’t intend to ease up in this arena.

—

Because of my dad’s heart and health maladies, this topic has been prominent in my mind. I’ve been writing this for a couple of weeks. There’s more to say but how much more time is there to figure out how to say it? Today is Father’s Day, so I wrapped it up and am sending it to my dad.

Backyard Bliss

The squirrels play with the squirrels The birds sing with the birds The kits nest together just under the surface The mallard male and his wife reign over the vernal pool that forms between the trees

The neighbor arrives on the patio each morning to place bread in a dish So that the playful squirrels and singing birds and nesting rabbits and mallard mates Will not leave this yard in favor of another

And - just like me The cat I call mine watches it all through the sliding glass door Wondering if she belongs in here, or out there

Airport Addis Ababa

En route to everywhere Neck pillows and roller bags, all the same Some carry duffels And I can’t understand why Eight billion people on this Earth

Overpriced food, uncomfortable seating Long lines, loudspeakers Vacations Funerals Coming Going Visiting family in Ghana

Eight billion is too many to comprehend So we consider only the few who are near Geographically or in our hearts Us and them We focus on the us And forget the them

So many ways to live a life And yet The neck pillows and roller bags Are all the same At Airport Addis Ababa

✨2024✨

Resolutions, baby. Annual reminders of who I would be if I wasn’t me. I’d be fitter and more productive and ropin’ the moon and sleeping nightly from 10 pm to 6 am and all that jazz.

I am me, though. And I like me. This is not a self-care mantra. I’ve been through that phase and it was useful. Now, I’m just wholly uninterested in dealing with the scoundrel that is self-dissatisfaction.

There’s a Sanskrit saying neti, neti which means neither this, nor that. Sometimes the best way to figure out what something is is by figuring out what it is not.

The practice of listing resolutions annually has helped me get clear about what I’m not. I’m not someone who is going to change through sheer willpower. Temporarily, sure. But what good is change if it only lasts three months? I’ll give you a clue what it’s good for and it starts with S and ends in elf-dissatisfaction. None for me, thanks.

Instead of making a list of what to improve or change about myself, I’ll be focusing solely on awareness. A ruthless commitment to observation. Awareness is the opposite of lazy-think. Awareness means seeing each person, place, thing in its present moment of freshness.

I’ve given so much credit where credit is not due. I have admired many people who are bookish but not wise.

Wisdom is to be sensitive to each situation, and each person in the present moment. To not carry over information from the past.

Not an easy task.

Here’s a life hack you can take to the bank: if you want to change something about yourself, do the work to understand. The work of awareness.

If I’m trying to change what I am into what I should be, I’m not dealing with reality. With what is. Change comes easy peasy lemon squeezy when it is born out of understanding.

I’m not talking about analyzing. I’m good at analyzing myself. I’m great at analyzing others. I have lots of practice. The thing about analyzing is that it doesn’t require action.

I’m talking about observing. Observing my conditioning, conventions, prejudices, projections, and labels. Observing my illusions, delusions, errors, and attachments.

Phew. Quite the list.

I’d like to understand each present reality so that I can work with it. Not so that I can become someone else, but very simply put, so that I can remove any barriers to change and to growth so that they come naturally from understanding.

This will require an alert and disciplined mind. But I can't redeem things that I hide from. I can only redeem things I’m willing to look at square in the face.

Hello, 2024.

One Way Ticket

The first set of 176 emojis was designed in Japan in 1999 by artist Shigetaka Kurita.

🗼Tokyo Tower emoji: this is the second tallest structure in Japan. I had a great view of it from my room in Toronoman Hills🗼

Here’s what I can tell you about Tokyo: things are available.

• Need a fountain pen? The 3rd floor of Itoya in Ginza is dedicated solely to fountain pens.

• Need an A+ egg salad sandwich? Pop into any Seven-Eleven.

• Need a measuring tape that rolls out of the left nostril of a small rubber nose-shaped holder for ¥440? There’s a vending machine for that.

• Need a jar of whipped cream with cookie crumbles on top and a tiny spoon to eat it with? There’s a vending machine for that, too.

• Need a drink koozie that’s too small for any beverage can ever made, with a fish graphic and a mistranslated self-care message that reads: Smile. I love yourself. Stay Classy. Whatever. You’re in luck at the Can*Do Dollar Store conveniently located inside the Maruetsu Petit mini-grocery in Toranomon.

• Need a vintage Cedar Point sweatshirt straight from Ohio for ¥11,999 ($85!)? Visit CYAN Vintage in Shimokitazawa.

• Need to see approximately 2,000 people cross a street at once? Pop over to Shibuya Crossing.

• Need princess themed chopsticks? Find them at Don Quijote (DonKi for short) in Roppongi.

• Need washi tape with cats or Buddhas on it? You can find that at every store in the city, apparently.

• Need to mail the gifts and snacks you bought for your son and your boyfriend home because you have no room in your suitcase? Japan Post will get it from Tokyo to Ohio in five business days in a “small packet” for thirty bucks. Five days, people. When I send FedEx 2 Day from Ohio to California for $79.50 plus tax, it takes six days. Help me understand. 

You get the point. You want it? You can find it here. In a vending machine, most likely.

⛩️Shinto Shrine or Torii Gate emoji: The red torii gates mark the entrance of, or are found in Shinto Shrines around Japan. My favorite was the Atago Shrine in Minato City. It’s famous for its steep staircase known as the "stone steps of career success"⛩️

Here are some observations about Japan in general:

• Just because a bar with only six tables on the eighth floor of a high-rise building is empty does not mean you may come in for a drink. No, no, no. One look at a group of loud Americans and suddenly, “Reservation required.” Thankfully, a man will see your defeat after being turned away from multiple bars, proclaim, “You drink outside,” and welcome your group with watered-down whiskey and sodas at his establishment. Outside. On the sidewalk. You take what you can get.

• Take your shoes off.

• Bow.

• Leaves get swept from the ground into a trash bag at the gas station, the steps of my Airbnb, a public shrine, in a park. Please take a slow, deep breath and read this again: in a park. Leaves. Into a trash bag.

• Arigatou gozaimasu! Arigatou gozaimasu!

• Driving on the left side of the road but the right side of the car is exactly like driving on the right side of the road on the left side of the car. Except you have to remember to drive on the left side of the road, which isn’t as easy as it sounds.

• No honking. None.

• Toilet seats are heated. In the airport, at the office, in the hotel, in the library. I didn’t visit a library, but I know the toilet seats there are heated because that’s just how it is.

• The salaryman and his outfit are alive and well.

Japan is known for its meticulousness, neatness, and organization. If you can’t figure something out, wait and watch.

When things make sense, you can anticipate. You know what humans really, really like? To anticipate what is going to happen. It’s our favorite mirage.

The orderly conduct in Japan made my heart pitter-patter a little faster and my smile a little wider. In India, a man I met at a dinner party said that Japan is a nightmare for Indians because there are rules and order. Which Indians can’t handle because India is chaotic. But. I will not reflect on India now because to write about Japan and India together would be disorderly.

🍱Bento Box emoji: a Japanese lunch box containing multiple compartments to organize your food into🍱

Here’s an example of the orderliness in Japan.

• Tokyo’s metro is extensive: multiple private and public companies operate hundreds of stops on over 15 separate lines. The metro system serves more than 2.5 billion people annually. And still, the metro is easy to navigate.

• Each line has a distinct color. Even lines that share the same track have a different color.

• Each station has a unique letter and number combination.

• Each station also has a unique jingle that plays when the train arrives at that stop.

• Although some stations are massive, the signage, platforms, and subway cars are color-coded by the line they are on.

• This means you can find your way by letter, number, color, name, or sound.

• If you’re lost on the metro, you’re not paying attention.

And, as if that’s not nice enough, let me also tell you that people are not pushy in the metro stations. They walk calmly. They line up to wait for the subway doors to open. They do not take up more than one space. They do not listen to their phones out loud. They do not eat or drink while riding. There are rules, and the rules are followed.

🏣 Japan Post emoji: A post office with the Japanese Post symbol (〒). I love sending postcards. Visiting a post office to buy stamps and send mail is a fun way to do a chore in a new country and get a feel for life as a non-tourist. Japan has a strong culture of craftsmanship and penmanship. Learning to write kanji characters takes time and attention to detail. You might as well use a nice pen and paper🏣

Here’s what else I can tell you from my time in Japan.

• Takamatsu is a city of about 400,000 people on Shikoku Island. 400,000 people but no taxis available at the airport at 8:30 pm. Even if you have traveled for nearly 24 hours and you do not want to figure out the bus, and you do want to cry because you are exhausted.

• This is ok because the airport bus will take you to the train station near the port and you can take a taxi from there. But be careful because the backseat taxi doors automatically open and close with vigor. The taxis are all dark blue or black Nissan Cedric models. Luxurious!

• Ferries are running regularly from Takamatsu to neighboring islands. The ferries have seats that face looking out the window instead of forward. Someone was using their noodle during the design process.

• I had the impression there would be cats everywhere. Instead, the only cat I saw was in a man’s tote bag at the ferry terminal. The cat obediently popped itself from the tote bag into the basket on the man’s bike. They rode away before I could let them both know I loved them.

• Brett and I walked the entire east to west distance of Naoshima Island in half a day. My favorite public work of art was a giant garbage can. We visited zero museums. I’m thankful that Brett and I agree on not spending travel time at museums.

• Staying seaside on Shodoshima, renting a car to drive around, and taking a few days to discover all the small island had to offer was rewarding. There was a tour guide at the soy sauce factory who said, "You can see everything here in less than a day, no”? I suppose we could have, but I’m glad we didn’t.

• We spent an afternoon on walking trails amidst a tribe of ~200 uncaged monkeys at Chōshi Valley Monkey Kingdom. If you take 538 photos of the monkeys, none will accurately convey the experience. Also, do not look the monkeys in the eye.

• I’ve enjoyed many obsessions in life. One that’s persisted over time is small islands. It’s hard to pin down why I am decisively drawn to them. Something about life on small islands can’t be replicated in other topographies. The interest and affinity I have grow with each new island experience. Naoshima and Shodoshima are small, quaint islands. You can’t make the mistake of thinking you aren’t on an island. Despite all the wonders of Japan, this is still the feeling I most enjoyed.

🙅Not OK emoji: This gesture is used in Japanese culture to signal something is not OK. Some English is spoken in Japan, but there were many times when I had to use Google Translate or gestures to communicate. Once, I walked out of a building and into a bus loading area, which resulted in whistles being blown and two employees coming toward me with this gesture. When I got into the taxi line in Takamatsu, the attendant made this gesture to let me know no taxis were available. Then, when I asked for how long, he made this gesture again to signal none would be coming🙅

Here’s what I can tell you after 20 days in Japan.

• I don’t know much about Japan.

• I bet you’d enjoy seeing it for yourself.

Arigatou gozaimasu.

Rue Pierre Blancon

Would like to sit on the oversized couch and watch you doze off. My feet resting on the coffee table  we made from a shipping container.

Would like to bring in the laundry  from the back balcony  and fold it the way I like  so you can refold it  the way you like.  A sock falls from the line  and shows up in the hallway tomorrow. 

Let’s sit in the chairs that squeak at the big wooden table  in our kitchen  that’s also our office  that’s also our living room.  Open floorplan. Nowhere to hide. Let’s eat too much Comté  from the shop in the old town.  Miss you.

Tiny fridge. Eggs on top.  No dishwasher.  Fifth floor walk up. Walk down.  Walk up.  Walk down.  Loud jingle of the keys  when the neighbor comes home. Home. 

Would like to tell you  how I’ve learned to love.  Too late. Just in time.  Not fighting any more wars. 

Go to the bakery in the morning  and grab a baguette.  I’ll make sandwiches  and we can walk along the sea  for hours.  It’s Sunday, after all.  Miss you.

Sit with me  on the oversized couch  and doze off  while I tell you what I’ve learned about love.

Go to the castle place  when the moon is full and visit the dog.  Tell him I said:  miss you.

Departing the Pattern

I’m three weeks into a six-week trip. 32 hours of flying time so far.

Writing to you from Gate 4 of Kochi airport. Waiting. 

Waiting for flight 6E6922 to Bengaluru.

Waiting to clear the tangled strands of words clogging a drain in my mind. The same way my hair clogs the drain in my shower. Some water gets through, but the experience is not optimal. You’ve got to clear it out or pay the price for a plumber. I don’t have that kind of mental cash. 

On the long flight to Tokyo, I sat in the economy cabin with a row of three seats to myself. I sprawled across them for a nap. I paid $6 USD for seat 2A from Tokyo to Ho Chi Minh and landed another row to myself. Then, on the flight to Kochi, same situation. I marvel at the luck.

Still, my body aches. I’m visiting four countries and multiple climates in six weeks’ time with only a carry-on and a backpack. Some clothes and toiletries. And two small pillows. Two. They take up the whole backpack. Because I'm 40 and the right pillows have become essential travel companions.

-

The venture capital firm I work for hosts the team for an “onsite” a few days each quarter. This time, it was in Tokyo. The catalyst for this journey. We’re a team of 12, we live in various locations around the US, we work remotely. The onsites provide time for us to connect. To have fun. 

Before Tokyo, I traveled to the south of the archipelago that is Japan and met up with my coworker, Brett. This was our third trip together. We’re a good pair. Brett is a planner, and I’m happy to show up with a toothbrush and my laptop and go with the flow.

Brett prepared in advance with an impressive level of research and detail. It's nice to have a full itinerary planned. No need to think about what to do or how to do it. Turns out I'll wander happily behind whoever is leading me. I was able to be present in the experiences without the burden of figuring out the next bus to take, the next bed to sleep in, the next sight to see. A nice departure from my modus operandi.

I’ve traveled to unfamiliar destinations enough to know that I derive a great sense of pride, or something, from figuring it all out. I plan enough to know where I'm landing, where I'm sleeping (maybe), and a few places I'd like to eat. The rest a surprise.

Even when many aspects of life might have been easier if I had stayed put, I’ve traveled. Cultural enrichment!

-

I spent May-August this year in Berkeley, California. I stayed in a beautiful house in a picturesque neighborhood. And I did almost nothing in the Bay Area despite the long list of wonders it offers. A few quick trips to Point Reyes Station. Plenty of visits to the local library. Lots of sleep. Time with Toby while he visited in June and July. A twice-daily 30-minute walk with Oreo the dog. Peaceful.

While there, I quit Instagram. I stopped scrolling and posting photos and snippets from daily life. I moved on immediately and without a second thought. Dead to me. I even surprised myself, considering I spent a rather decent amount of time on the app for almost a decade.

The California trip felt different than all the others before it. So does this one. 

Something’s shifted. I thought travel might be less interesting without an audience to share it with. Every trip I’ve taken has included sharing photos and stories through social media with friends and family. An online scrapbook. Which I loved.

So, I decided I would share this trip this way. 

One problem.

I can’t seem to sum it up or write it down. I’ve tried at least a dozen times in the past three weeks. Start, stop, edit, erase.

The problem isn’t that everything is so new and interesting. The problem is that it's not.

Two countries I have never been to before. Each on the opposite end of whatever spectrum countries are on. Japan organized. India chaotic. Japan quiet. India loud. Japan industrial. India domestic. Etc.

I feel like I’ve seen it all before. Somehow Japan and India feel just like home. Familiar, not much to tell. 

How can this be? Has every city become, to me, just another city with ugly skyscrapers and too much noise? Has every island become just another island; smaller, simpler, slower, with plenty of water’s edge to walk along?

Why am I not mouth agape at every new sight, taking photos and excitedly sharing them? Why won’t the words flow? I don’t have answers, only suspicions. 

I suspect this has to do with a childhood spent in rural Ohio and a subsequent twenty-plus years of interest in anywhere that isn’t there. Maybe, finally, I am less interested in where I’m going and more interested in where I came from? 

I suspect, too, that this shift is a result of five years of analysis. Traveling inward through some of the innumerable island shores and city coffee houses in my own psyche. Traveling through pain and darkness. Into the depths that grief has to offer. Knowing the peace available only after grief has retreated, no doubt temporarily, to low tide.

Maybe this summer in Berkeley and these past few weeks in Japan and India have catapulted me face-to-face with a simple yet unignorable conclusion: that the most important things to be understood and traveled into are not places, but people.

I suspect I have been unable to write down and share my experiences on this trip because there are other places I long to travel to that I have not been to before. Not really.

To the planets of other people’s minds. 

- 

Probably, and for many years, traveling aided my delusion that I could collect a list of states and countries I have been to and prove who I was, or who I was not. Fearless, intelligent, open-minded, capable. The list goes on. 

Turns out I am fearless, intelligent, open-minded, and capable. I am also fearful, stupid, set in my ways, and often debilitated. Duh.

As a young person, it never occurred to me that I had the right to pick out a life of my own. Instead, I waded through the muddy waters of adulthood, watching other people doing life in ways that seemed interesting, and I followed suit. I have spent years trying to figure it all out. The vastness of Earth provides endless opportunities to search for what I had yet to find in the only place it could be found. 

But now I have a much better handle on what belies the endless searching. And I know where I want to visit. 

So here I am. Very much enjoying India without much to say about India. Yet.

But. Now that I have unclogged this drain, I just might write soon about the actual trip. 

In the meantime, you can see some photos from my journey here.