A Warehouse of Memories in a Shadow

I was going through things in my parents basement last month and I found an old journal from November 1999, a month shy of my 18th birthday.  I cringed as I recognized the cover- "Uh, those days" was my thought exactly.  I knew what I was getting into when I picked up that white and green marble notebook.  As I flipped through the pages I found myself letting out a smile.  My smile was not a reflection of fond words written about great times at the beach, happiness surrounding my family, proud moments on the soccer field or silly sleepovers with friends.  Don't misunderstand me, I experienced all of those things- I cherish those memories; they molded Me.  But these journal entries exposed a side to me that I didn't let the closest of friends or family members know.  The journal entries were rittled with lonliness, frustration, anger, inferiority, and anxiety.  It doesn't sound like the warm and fuzzies that would bring a smile to one's face, huh?  The essense of this smile was more a recognition of freedom; "I got through that.  It wasn't neat or clean or pretty, but I've made it through"  I now know that during that time in my life I suffered from an undiagnosed sickness.  I was sick in my soul, I was void of the type of love that gives one hope; self-love.  And despite my snub at religion or God or a higher order, one night at my desk I had a desperation for relief that gave way to this poem.

SHADOW

There's a shadow following me, it's making me nervous

Everywhere I turn, everywhere I run it's beside me,

What is it's purpose?

When I play on the beach, it plays too

Even when I sleep, it does what I do

I've tried to outsmart it, but it's no use

I can't get away, I can't break loose

I've tried to hide in a dark cold place

But when I emerge out of my hell, again it's in my face

Everytime I try to stomp on it, it eludes my foot

It looks blacker than death and darker than soot

Out of anger and frustration I yell, "Why are you following me? Leave me alone!"

I won't welcome you here, find your own home

But tonight when I wept I saw it weep too

It shed tears that fell like the morning dew

Without a sound it spoke to me

The words more piercing than a thousand stinging bees

I finally realized what I had been trying to dismiss

It was the Lords healing, touch, and kiss

For so long I've been blinded by the impurities and temptations of hell, like fog in the night

I've only made it through because of the Lord's sight

So many times I've fallen short in his eyes

But everytime he's always been by my side

What a fool I've been to look the other way

I tried to pretend I was happy with how I lived each day

Straight faced, steady voiced, into his eyes I have lied

I am sorry, Lord, and I thank you for always being the shadow by my side

Life's Beam Curves for a Reason

More will be Revealed, but Only When I'm Ready
You know, I'm not sure what sparks my need to put thoughts and feelings on paper. Moreover, I'm not sure what makes me want to share them. I guess it's the egocentric part of me that thinks others give a damn about what I have to say. The other part of me thinks that reading my rambling thoughts and twisted logic can help someone else who has experienced loss and grief find comfort and feel normal. Either way, I've realized that, at the root of it, I have a need to capture my world for those I love and leave behind.

My family has endured three deaths in the past 9 months; my Uncle Gordon, my Uncle Bill, and my Dad. Those of you who know me, know that family history, legacies, stories, adventures, and personalities have been a strong force in my upbringing. A root that I love to honor and will do all

I can to protect. For if I do not nurture and protect these taproots, the distance my family or myself reach at the tips of our branches cannot be understood nor appreciated. So, once again I find myself getting back into "blogging". Bridging the gap since my last entry (2 years) can be summed up in one word; transformation.

Change would be too vauge, too cliche for the things that I've wittnessed, experienced, endured, and embraced. But transformation- that word to me embodies a process. And a process, albiet, each one unique, has gone in every aspect of my life; in my family life, my marriage, my spirit, my personal goals, my professional goals, my parenting goals.

It doesn't Impress Me like Peace does

I was in a workshop the other day and the speaker was talking about conflict. Specifically he was talking about conflict within a cohort, but the symbolism he used to describe the conflict can be applied to anything you can think of - marriage, work, friends, family, or self. He showed a picture of an iceberg. Now, even without the help of James Cameron we all know the story of the Titanic and its fate with that damn iceberg. The ship is on a historic journey, plugging along across the Atlantic while it's passengers are intoxicated by merriment and gaiety. Suddenly the watch stander sees the tip of an iceberg ahead. All efforts to avoid it by those in charge fail, the ship goes down and hundreds perish amongst confusion and panic. But it wasn't the tip that brought down the Titanic, it was the mountain of dense ice under the water that sealed its fate. Why does an iceberg represent a conflict? Because as the cliché goes, a conflict is the tip. It's what we see and hear- it's the tangible product of what lies beneath the surface (by the way, the tip of the iceberg is usually only one tenth of the whole thing).

Although this cliche is familiar, I never put much thought into it. It hasn't meant much until I started really honing in on what constitutes my dense ice under the surface. Right now I'm working on trying to let go and not control (or have a feeling that I can control) so much- to realize that I cannot control many many many things and just focus on the here and now- not a year ago and not a year from now. I can't get all worked up over the crazy holiday marathon/schedule that is about to come up in a few months when we get home. I can't get all worked up over the 'what ifs' and the 'maybes' or 'only ifs' of the navy life and i certainly can't get worked up over finances- I don't do well when I think like that. I just have to realize things happen for a reason and if I try to maintain a postive outlook, positive things will always materialize.

For me, appreciation for peace of mind doesn't manifest from a peaceful mind- it comes from a place that was not peaceful, always churning, always planning, always trying to control. Now, that I am letting go more, I do have a more peaceful mind as compared to what it was. If it weren't for the constant conflict, I wouldn't be able to truly appreciate how much more calm and carefree I can live life. I want peace because I know conflict.

These thoughts brought back memories of our trip to Hiroshima. The documentation of devestation and human suffering was gut wrenching. The museum was so graphic at points that I got sick to my stomach and had to leave. The Holocaust Muesum in D.C. is moving in much of the same ways- your heart hurts when you listen to the stories of those who lived through it- their lives forever changed by the hands of others. Now I'm not here to debate why it happened or if it could have been avoided. I just know that this was the tip of the iceberg for our relations with Japan during WWII.

I am not impressed that a couple ton bomb could level an entire city. I am not impressed that the US was able to bring the Japanese to their knees within days of dropping these bombs. What impresses me is that Hiroshima and Nagasaki have just put in bids to be a candidate city for the 2020 Olympics. They have rebuilt, they have grown, they have come to terms with their past and want to shed light on the possibilities of tomorrow. They want the world to know Peace because they do not want the world to relive their conflict. Now, to me, that's impressive.

Time Out for a Typhoon

Batten down the hatches, (well in my case, slide over the aluminum doors) it's about to get nasty! This is the first typhoon that we'll be going through. No, not we as in Mark and me, we, as in me and Tigger! For those of you who don't know, Mark and I adopted a Japanese Labrador in need of a home about two weeks ago. She is a great dog who lost her chance to go with her owners when they left last year cause she was overweight. Well, obese was the word her foster parent used. Apparently, they fed her everything except dog food causing her to get so heavy when the foster parent took Tigger, she said the dog had to rock to get from sitting to standing! Ok, no fat jokes- we're a little sensitive. But, we're working on it. Two to three times a day (and recently any time the rain slows down from pouring to drizzling) we're out either walking or biking (I bike, Tigger trots) around the neighborhood.
Two weeks ago, Mark and I took her to the beach to see if she likes the water. I had very high hopes with this one, as my pup Sandy would have nothing to do with it except drink it. It was a success!! She didn't go in to the point of swimming but she did run in neck deep after Mark along the breakers. Can't wait to get back to the water! I have only heard her bark a handful of times and it's mostly at school kids passing by- she was teased by kids at her last home. But, no need to worry about that anymore. She is in great hands! We haven't had a thunderstorm since she's been with us, so I'm wondering how she'll react to a Typhoon! They have canceled school and work for the base tomorrow- everyone is advised to stay in the residences. I'm going to use the day to catch up on the blog. It's funny how people and things- sorry, Mom- get neglected when Mark is home. We're too busy catching up on this or doing that or having new adventures that time gets away from me. Now that Mark is gone until late November I have ample time to reflect back on the memories that were made and share in what's going through my head now a days.

Miyajima- "An Island Where People and God Live Together"

Once our three days were done in Kyoto we were on to our next stop. No time to rest, we only had a few days to see some tops sights. We all boarded the bullet train, being especially careful to keep the pod together this time, and sat back for our 1.5 hour ride to Hiroshima. We arrived sometime in the late morning, dropped our bags at the hotel and headed to Miyajima, an island located in the Sea of Japan, and about another 20 minute train ride from Hiroshima City. This small, quiet island is considered one of the top sights in Japan and a sacred place to the Japanese. It is only accessible by ferry- it's establishment as a holy place dates back to 593 AD. The Japanese are a very superstitious people, always being mindful not to offend any Gods. For many centuries people did not build on this island, harvest the earth, or even give birth or die (although i'm not sure how well people could control this one) on the grounds. To this day there is not a clinic or cemetary on the island. In Shinto, the color red is believed to ward off evil which explains why the shrines, pagodas, tori gates, and even the bibs on animal statues are all doned in red. While walking around I was able to feel the peacefulness and tranquility. A massive torii gate stands tall over the water; although i'm not sure for what, I know it stands for something- it caused me to think just how insignificant I/we are in the world. That thing has been around longer than the USA has been organized, longer than I can trace back my geneology, longer than a million other things I can't think of at this moment. When I am gone years from now, what will I leave behind- what would I have stood for?? Will it even matter? Then again, who cares? The memories created with my family is what's most important. Carpe Diem cause tomorrow's not promised.

A 3 City Whirlwind-- First up, Kyoto

With the 3 amigos/stooges (up for debate) reunited, we grabbed our luggage and headed to our hotel in magnificant Kyoto. We arrived before check in so we ditched the bags and went on our first excursion. There was no time to waste- Kyoto is the cultural capital of Japan and requires much more time to take in the sights than we could afford, so we had to strategically plan out our day and hit the pavement. Thankfully we had a half hour bus ride until our destination- just long enough to give the rents a much needed cat nap. The first stop was the Kinkakuji Temple (Golden Temple). As you can see from the photo of mom and I, the entire temple is covered in a gold film. It was built in 1397 as a country villa for a shogun. In 1994 it was registered as a World Culture Heritage site. Next on the checklist was a famous Zen Garden. A little fun fact about my family- we love rocks from different places. And if you're not familiar with a Zen garden, it consists of big boulders surrounded by pebbles that have been raked into precise lines and circles - score! Buddhist monks maintain the garden for meditation and viewing pleasure. Apparently the longer you stare at the rocks and lines the deeper into contemplation you fall. After walking a great deal and feeling serene from meditating we were ready to head back to the hotel and call it an early night. It being only the second full day in the country, mom was still battling the jet lag. We did have one snag in the plan. I wanted to give mom and dad full Japanese experience so I booked a Japanese style room on that first night's sleep. When Marissa and I stayed at a traditional inn there was a room for eating and a room with the futons. Well, apparently things got lost in translation this time cause we got into the room and there was a very nice table, a tv, great views, but no beds! Mom was ready to collapse so this was not good, not good at all. I sent mom in for a soak and shower and called the front desk. Ah- the beds don't get made until 7pm and since it was only 6pm the staff hadn't come around to pull out the futons from the closets and make the beds. Well, with some simple English words like, airplane, long time, sleepy, and have bed now- they got the picture and came up to put us to bed. A great first day.

Lost in 60 Seconds

It was 6.15am on Tuesday and we were on the Shinkensin (bullet train) platform waiting for our 6.57 train to Kyoto. Get it? We were EARLY!! Yes, the Paykos Pod was ready and waiting to start the first leg of our trip across Japan. It's pretty hot and humid here in Japan, even in the early morning hours so I headed back to one of the station convenient stores to grab some agua for the ride. I remember smiling to myself as I strolled back toward the down escalator thinking about the adventures ahead and how incredible it was to have had my great aunt visit and now my mom and dad here. As i stepped onto the escalator I saw my mom walking toward it at the bottom shaking her head back and forth with an annoyed look on her face. Naturally, I thought there had been a coffee mishap down the front of a certain someone's (ahem, dad) white collared shirt and the tide stick was missing- nothing unusual. When I got halfway down I looked at her and said, "What's wrong?" I did not expect her reply. "Your father's gone." Dumbfounded, I smiled and said, "What?!!? What do you mean gone?" I thought maybe they were playing a trick but it was way too early in the morning for games. My mom was more worried than mad and I was just confused. "Yes, he's gone. The train came and he put our luggage on, went to ask an attendant a question, she made some motions toward the luggage, so he got back on to get them and then the doors shut and the train left! And he's on it! Without any ticket. Where is he going?" I got this nervous smile on my face- the one you get when you know you're about to play a prank on someone and they're trying to call you out but you want them to fall for it anyway. I looked around and my dad was really gone. So I did what anybody would do at that time. I started cracking up- I couldn't stop laughing- just the absurdity of it. I mean bent over, slapping my knee laughing. Of course things were going too smooth with the pod! "Pull yourself together, Alisa!" After a bit of a game of charades with the attendant we figured out that all trains on that track head to Kyoto, so that was one relief. Here is the jist.

It's been a Family Affair

Ever since the flights were booked and the dates set, I've been anticipating the family's arrival. In the past three weeks, I've been blessed to have my Dad, Mom, and Aunt Louise come to visit, take in the sights, surround me with love, and leave me with some priceless memories. I miss them already. I've always heard that as you grow older your parents will become your friends. When I was told this, maybe at 18 I thought it would never be. Looking back over the years, I realize this has been coming true. We do more listening to each other instead of hearing, we laugh more, argue much less, and help each other through tough times instead of being the source of tough times for each other. This trip was the most awesome time I've spent with my mom and dad. We did miss Marissa and Mark, but time just the three of us was something that we hadn't done in a very long time, if ever. Aunt Louise met my Dad and I mid week and because I still had work we were only able to get out and about a couple of the days. It was worth the wait- they were great days. Here is a picture of Aunt Weezie and I at one of the waterfalls in Nikko. That weekend we picked up my Mom at the airport and headed to a great hotel in Tokyo so we could be at the fish market when it opened early Monday morning. Mom battled the jetlag like a trooper. After saying goodbye to Aunt Louise we then headed to Kyoto, Hiroshima, and Nara for the rest of the week. We got home just in time to rest up for a few days before we climbed Mt. Fuji. I haven't posted in a while and I'm kicking myself because it's hard to capture all the great times all in one. So here is a snippet and there is more detail to come on our trips. Much love to all.

Embracing the Art of the Onsen

A start to a July 4th weekend that was like none other. Last year I was basking in the sun on Hilton Head Island with the family, content in my denial that forces greater than thou had hold on my life. This year I was looking forward to something different- I needed something different. And sure enough this time, when I asked, I recieved. A friend and I jumped in the car and decided to stop talking about seeing this and doing that and to actually go and do it. It's easy to complain about the Navy when you're on the base and so many things you can't control are in your face (so getting off base is muy importante-a huge reason why I wouldn't be caught dead living on base). We were on our way to Hakone. To get to the town, one would just hug the coast and drive about an hour west of Yokosuka. Athough it was a Friday there were tons of people enjoying what the surf has to offer- the towns we passed through reminded me of Ocean City without the bars, boardwalk, or neon lights or as many people- come to think of it, it wasn't like ocean city at all- i guess the beach houses were a little similiar. Let me start again, just like the Jersey Shore, the waves weren't great but people were out there trying to carve it up nonetheless. We made our way up the winding hills and lush forests to one of the most famous spots in Hakone. At this time the name of the Onsen (hot spring) escapes me but I'll be going back there again, so it will be in my next report. First thing one must do when headed to an Onsen (Hot Spring) is to leave your pride and modesty at the door. No swim suits allowed! You will be the odd person out. Fret less, men and women are separate. When you first enter the building you take your shoes off. You do not walk around inside with shoes on, ever. You can see from the picture, thatify ou wish to go out to the deck they provide you slippers. Once we headed down the halls and stairs we arrived at the women's locker room area and there is such a sense of serenity. It's not like a gym locker room, but more like a spa locker room with wicker furniture, soft soothing colors, and carpeted floors. After you drop your drawers you get your towel and head to the shower. But these are not showers like we know showers. I turned the corner to find a row of shower heads, about shoulder length, lining the wall. Each stall, although there are no doors, has a wooden stool so you can sit and rinse off your body. Then the fun part. I walked outside to the fenced in springs. There were 5 different ones to choose from. You can't really tell in the picture (i snuck it) but vaguely you can see one to the left, two to right and one towards the back of the photo. They are all piping hot and so relaxing. Chill music is playing and everyone is calm and content. At first my friend and I had to giggle our nervousness away, but after realizing we were the only ones feeling embarrased we said, enough is enough and just let the ambiance take over. If your hot spring moment made you sleepy the place also had a room where you can lay down on the floor and continue to meditate or fall asleep before checking back in to reality. Anyone who is coming out to visit, get your mind and body ready, cause you can't leave Japan without experiencing the art of the onsen.

One for the Money, Two for the Show

What do you do when you're burnt out from work, exhausted by a grueling schedule, tired of catering to the everyone's needs except your own? Some of us may turn off our cell phone, retreat to a hot bathtub, or head down the beach for some R&R. But what do you do when you're famous beyond your wildest dreams? Growing up, my mommom Fidati and I would watch tons of old classic movies- Fiddler on the Roof, My Fair Lady, Oklahoma, Guys and Dolls, Singing in the Rain, everything Fred Astaire, and anything Rodgers and Hammerstein. We also watched documentaries and concerts of Elvis. Up unil now I (and i bet you, too) were under the impression that Elvis permanently left the building for a big encore in the sky. Boy, were we fooled! Apparently the only way to get away from the pressures of fame was to come out to Japan and start his own look alike club. This way Elvis's proteges could entertain for him while he disappeared into history. Well, maybe that's not how it played out, but I don't doubt anything can happen here in Japan. Yesterday I went to Harajuku to check out the local festivities that occur each week and was expecting quite a scene. Needless to say, I was not let down by either the wierd nor gifted acts that were around me. Along the park path I found people sitting on a blanket plucking away at guitars, others beating on some drums, a group of dancers practicing some choreography, kids playing baseball, runners moving quickly as their pets jogging along side of them, and people practicing flag twirling. There were some very memoriable sights, but the best of all was this group of 20-25 who were dressed as Elvis or James Dean with high hair, tight leather pants, and black boots grooving to some rock n roll. They cranked up their music, covered their hair in aqua net or dippity doo, gave themselves one last check in the mirror and then twisted and shouted for a good hour. It seemed like each group tried to out do the other- causing the crowd to shift our focus from one spot to another, seeing who had the best moves. Here are some pics and a video from the day.