Categories
Ordinary Miracles

In Tune

A wonderful miracle occurred yesterday. On our way home from the Electronics Store (called BEST), I managed to whistle IN TUNE an entire refrain of the song “Auld Lang Syne”. I have never been able to whistle (or sing for that matter) in tune for such an extended moment.

Maybe this happened because it was the song played at the closing of BEST, so it was fresh in my ear, or maybe it was due to the starry sky with gigantic fluffy clouds and fresh pine scent in the night breeze or the rhythmic roll of my son’s stroller, but I know it can’t happen again. The notes rolled off my puckered lips like a perfect bird song. Maybe the ghost of a famous whistler entered my soul? Who would that be?

Categories
Ordinary Muse

Two parents and the Game

Yesterday my son tried to open the freezer door to get at a second popsicle. He tried in earnest (slyly ‘playing’ with his toys near the refrigerator) several times, and each time I told him “no,” which led to the usual but mercifully brief squawks of protest.

Then when I entered the shower, I saw him try again (I was out of sight, and here was his chance!) but his father came into the kitchen and said, “No. I heard your mama say ‘no’, and no means no.” Foiled again.

This event of where a child plays off of two parents signals something new for the both of us. We both grew up with only our mothers as our parents. If we wanted something and it was denied, or only chance was to butter them up and then try again later.

Categories
Do the right thing

RIP Emmett Louis Till (murdered Aug.28, 1955)

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This weekend is the 50th anniversary of Emmett Till’s murder the night of August 28, 1955, in Money, Mississippi. If he were alive today, he’d be 64, probably a grandfather, though we can never know, sadly, what he might have been.

Here’s some links to read more about him and the reopening of his case in May of 2004. There is also a powerful new documentary called “The Untold Story of Emmett Till,” which I haven’t been able to see yet, but I hope to. Although it will be a painful story to see and hear, it is also criticial to not forget him. Please see it if you can.

That a fourteen year old boy died from the brutal stupidity of grown men, that a fourteen year old boy died to wake the country up to the ugliness of racism, that the murderers (some still alive and free) of a fourteen year old boy remain unpunished to this day, that his mother died without seeing justice served, sickens and saddens me. So today, I want to remember this fourteen year old boy, remember Emmett Till. The ugliness of it all could fill me with despair, but I’d rather face it with a determination to fight back, just as his mother had.

I read an article about a group of 14-year old boys from Selma who made a pilgrimage on August 27-28 in 2004 to the town where Emmett Till was murdered. This was one boy’s reflection:

“We are free, but not free. We are still in poverty at present. Right now all you see are presidential signs, and people campaigning everywhere. They talk, but they won’t do a thing to help my community. We still won’t have proper health care and health facilities. We are in poverty and are not noticed.

We don’t have to live in poverty if we work together. We don’t have to live in poverty if we think we can make it better.”

I hope to keep the same hope and courage in my heart.

Categories
Oops

Ants & War

I am not an enemy of ants. As a child, I was a pro-active ant advocate: I would save their homes when the rain fell by frantically hopping with a battered black umbrella from ant hill to ant hill on our front sidewalk.

I have never willingly scraped an ant hill with my shoe, or stamped on one to death for fun either. I believe insects–even the creepiest of crawly ones–have a right to live, just like anyone else, as long as they keep off me and my family.

I am not a saint. I have had my episodes where I’ve single-mindedly slaughtered colonies of insects, such as my month-long battle with cockroaches in my shabby studio in Tuscaloosa. The time for war has (sadly) come again. I think the key factor is this: if they have invaded my living space in droves, then I transmogrify into a cold-blooded insect assassin.

Ants attacked us about a week ago, big ants, those black ones with the dusty three-piece shellac suits. We responded in two ways. I would pick them up and throw them out the window (this was not murder, I rationalized). My husband would trap them in a cup, slide a postcard underneath and then knock them out the window. Again, we chose the non-violent approach, and then kept the windows on that side of the apartment shut despite the heat. Victory was ours…

for a few days…but now we have an infestation, not of the large ants, but of tiny reddish brown ants, the kind that follow each other in swarmy lines across the window ledge, carpet and tatami mats. They are on an exodus into our home. My husband thinks they are the spawn of the big ants, and if so:

This is the revenge of the insects.

We are no longer potential peace prize recipients. My husband’s technique is to douse them with watered-down dish soap (I find this method disgusting due to the carcasses abandoned in pools of sticky fluid) or he sucks them up the vacuum cleaner and dumps them into the toilet and flushes repeatedly. My starting technique was the usual, pick them up and throw them out, which soon escalated into death by large human pinchers.

After they invaded my son’s toy room, however, I got mean, real mean. Now I swipe as many as possible with a wet paper towel and I have set out ant posion for them at night (when my son is not going to be interested in the pretty orange plastic squares that look like candy). The ant poison doesn’t seem to be tasty to these ants after the first unlucky few entered and keeled over, sigh, so the battle rages on.

Now, I am really not a fan of war (I despise group-think and the stupid lies told by rich people to justify killing poor people off for their insatiable greed), so the irony that I am now a mass-murderer of ants hasn’t escaped me. My question is: how did Buddha do it? Did he really just let those mosquitos have their fill? Did he let the ants gorge on his ricewater soup? Then why isn’t his bald head and lips depicted as they should be, with red swollen bites?

Categories
Poems & art

Leaf

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A small painting of mine with the Chinese character for leaf, pronounced “ha” in Japanese.

Categories
Poems & art

Ties to the North

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A poem card made in my productive maternity year.
This is a prayer said by Norwegian immigrants in Minnesota; it serves as an epigraph in my poem, ‘Pelican Lake.

Categories
Beginning Spiral

Tabibito

Now that I finally have breathing space (2 weeks) before outside work and academic duties return in gale force, I find myself wandering about from place to place via the Internet, from idea to idea, without any one focus. Is this what happens when a dog is suddenly unleashed and de-collared after being tied up for too long? Am I unaware of what freedom is and how to enjoy it? I like to think I just don’t know where to begin!

Well, I am enjoying the fumbling about, actually. I have been reading about nationalistic tendencies and cultural identity in Japan, looking at updating some research papers for publication, considering submitting papers for conferences, exploring more on using blogs in teaching writing and cultural understanding, about interactive digital fiction, toying with possible graduate programs in diverse places like california, the netherlands, baltimore, vancouver, london, switzerland, and some virtual campuses. I have also looked up things like outsider art and fulbrights. In other words, I have done a lot of skimming but little commiting–but if I had just one focus, then I wouldn’t be relaxing would I? Rationalizing my wayward soul…

In other words, I am truly a virtual ‘tabibito’ (or travelling person, but it sounds so much better in Japanese)…plus, we are off to Sapporo in real world time this weekend to see the Isamu Noguchi Art Park that he created for children, looks like the perfect place for my son, husband and me to clammer up and leap off rock sculptures. Oh, by the way, we celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary yesterday! Whooo-ee!

Lastly, a son update: he can officially put together an alphabet puzzle (with individual wooden letters) with his own two hands. He gets frustrated occasionally with the complex shapes fitting neatly (like his mother does about details, too), but with sideline encouragement, he can do it! That’s my sweetie pie!

Categories
Ainu rights Multicultural life Reading Minds

Multi-ethnic Japan

I am finishing up a book by John Lie (2001), called “Multi-ethnic Japan.” I plan on using much of its argument to teach Identity and Culture here at Hokkaido U of Education. Fascinating stuff, and I learned much about the hybrid character of Japanese culture, or rather it opened my eyes to what is already all around me!

His main argument is this: Just as the US power base and government “created” and propagated the idea of a unified “white race,” which effectively pulled into one group diverse ethnicities such as Italian, Irish, Russian, and Jewish peoples, further erasing the many ethnic identities inside each of those groups, etc.), and just as the French government tried to sell the idea of a unified Francophone nation in its education system, so, too, have the Japanese government and intellectuals attempted to erase the heterogeneous ethnic makeup of Japan, teaching Japan to the masses via education and media as “One nation, one race, one language.” And they have done a very thorough job. I haven’t met many folks who don’t think of Japan as a singular, special, and unified people.

What surprised me most is the fact that this idealized idea of Japan as a homogenous people really didn’t solidify until post WWII, and mostly in the mid-1960’s. Of course, western Japanologists helped support this lie, too.

I had been taught this myth before I came to Japan and had believed it during my first years in Japan, even though I knew firsthand of the presence of Okinawan, Ainu, Burakumin, Korean, Chinese, Filipino, Brazilian, Iranian, Peruvian, African, Russian, Indian, Bangladeshi and Canadian, US, Australian and numerous European peoples, etc. living in Japan. Basically, all nations’ peoples are represented here, although this author argues they are primarily concentrated in the larger cities.

But even in our small city in northern Hokkaido, we have Filipino, Australian, German, Russian, Swedish, Iranian, Indian, Ainu, US, Taiwanese, Chinese, Korean, and Canadian peoples, and an array of multiethnic peoples, so I am not sure of this emphasis on ethnic richness as being only in the larger cities. Rather, I think it more that, just as most Wajin Japanese live in large cities, so do the ethnicities. For some reason, I blindly ignored these facts of diversity and saw Japan as a remarkably singular nation, culturally and racially. I think I felt the older groups (the Ainu, the Okinawan, the Korean and the Chinese people had more or less disappeared into the Japanese cultural soup, and were, by and large, Japanese. And then, the rest of the ‘newer’ immigrants were here temporarily, soon to return to their homelands (and that included me)).

It wasn’t until I started reading maybe ten years ago about the inane and problematic concept of ‘race’ that I began to question deeply my own country’s racialized language, and then, later, to turn a clearer lens to my view of Japan. As you know, race is not a scientific categorization of peoples: it is based primarily on assumptions made by physical characteristics and cultural behavior, the former argument is nebulous and contradictory as a designator (for example, dark or pale gradations of skin can occur in many peoples as can curly or straight hair, and why aren’t types of toenails included?;-)), and the reason people developed different ‘looks’ had to do with the geographical fact that, way back then, people didn’t travel or intermarry often (and they still don’t, really!) and the latter argument depends on one’s upbringing and society. Scientists have proven, via genetic testing, that we humans are the same: there isn’t enough deviation in anyone’s DNA to qualify one group of people as another ‘race.’ We easily say that a sparrow and an eagle are both birds, but we can’t say the same of different human beings! Maybe not the best analogy, since those two birds likely have significant DNA differences, and we humans simply don’t!….Yet the sad ability of societies to persist in classifying humans into different races continues ad nauseum, and even I find myself falling into the trap at times…hard not to, with all the indoctrination going on.

Anyway, that was a little rant, back to the point. Next time you hear someone talk of Japan as an Island nation that was closed off for 300 years, hence forming a special unified peoples, remember this: Many nations are ‘island nations’ and historically-speaking, being an island nation actually aided the intermixing of cultures (this is how the Wajin got to Japan in the first place! This is how they adopted Chinese philosophies, religions and a writing system, Korean pottery, and Portuguese bread!). Also, the Tokugawa Shogunate did not close off outsiders for 300 years; they only centralized the control of the ports. Trade with and travel to foreign nations continued throughout that time, and many ideas and goods continued to be brought in under Tokugawa rule. These are the two most prevalent arguments I hear by Japanese (and others) to argue the uniqueness (and often superiority) over other cultures, but these arguments cannot hold true.

Furthermore, from the Meiji (1868) era on up until the end of WWII, the successive Japanese governments aggressively sought empire expansion and attempted to force assimilation of the so-called conquered peoples of the Ainu Mosir, Ryuku kingdom (Okinawa), Taiwan, Manchuria, Korea, the Philippines, etc. by outlawing their customs, languages and teaching Japanese in the Japan-run schools. They even tried to control their diet and way of dress. Thus, during this long imperialist and expansionist stage (inspired by the western nations, by the way), many ethnicities were encouraged to become ‘Japanese’, were designated legal Japanese citizens (though prejudice and discrimination were the norm, of course) and inter-marriages were encouraged. From this alone, we can see that Japan is and never was a ‘pure’ blood nation, no more than the Britain is or was.

This is a very important book for me because it validates the multi-ethnic character of Japan and opens the possibilities for more acceptance and knowledge about other ethnicities. I could go on and on, but, just read the book, okay? Now the difficult task for me: how do I teach this without students feeling attacked– from seeing it as a troublesome, uncomfortable, identity-breaking truth? I hope to teach it so that they see the truth as a saving grace, as a reason for celebration, culminating in a richer national identity. Wish me luck.

Categories
Ordinary Miracles

Open window train ride

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Categories
Ordinary Miracles

On the train again

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Categories
Lovely Luv Ordinary Miracles

Right before his birthday

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Categories
Respite

Wheat Harvest–Biei Town

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My son and I took a short trip this past weekend to a nearby town called Biei, famous for its lavender and patchwork fields. We happened upon a wheat harvester, a gargantuan machine I haven’t seen in a long time, not since my late teen car drives between Minneapolis and Saint Cloud. It crept along like a bloated praying mantis.

It was hot & humid, threatening to storm, and on a rickety rented bike, we explored as much of the countryside as we could before heading back home for Indian food. Then off to our well-deserved naps, lulled to slumber by the syncopatic chorus of raindrop tap and thunder boom.

Categories
New Media Musings Reading Minds Space is the Place

What the BLEEP do we know?

I finally had the chance to sit down and watch a film I had read about in my New Media class discussions.: What the BLEEP do we know?, which is a sort of self-help film but also a film about quantum physics, too, and I liked it, and this is not without a critical eye, but because it talks about tough things: like victimization, the cycle of negativity, and how we could be following the path inward toward knowing who we are as humans. Such things not normally talked about in mainstream media or societies these days. Of course, the film simplifies it (108 minutes cannot explain a human life at all), but at least it draws us to question how we accept our lives as ‘fate’ and asks us to become more active in our designing.

It wasn’t a film anyone entrenched firmly in any one organized religion would like because it questions the static and rule-based limitations these religions use. It puts responsibility and action and agency square back into human hands, and says we design our lives in concert with the larger interconnectedness of the universe; that is, we are creative actors.

I was most interested in how the human cells have receptors for chemicals produced in the hypothalamus, and as the cell divides it produces more receptors for those commonly used chemicals associated with our emotions (love, empathy, sexual desire, anger, self-pity, despair, or whatever) and less receptors capable of taking in nutrients, minerals and proteins needed for our health. Thus, if we continuously feel negative, our physical cells will create more receptors to meet that demand of a need for negativity–thus we fulfill our sad design/destruction. I would like to start using this idea to lessen those negative ideas, and my occasional feelings of road rage (this is obviously not a needed emotion, so why do I have it?).

Anyway, I recommend it to anyone who wants to touch on what quantum physics is about and to perhaps see how a new type of living could result from such ideas: here’s the link

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