Community Is Where You Make It and Where You Take It

Around the age of 25 I wrote in a manifestation journal that I aimed to be an active part of a community. I was a nomad. Never settling down as badly I wanted to. I wanted volunteering, a Yoga studio, a neighborhood, knowing people and waving to them at the mall, helping people and a calendar full of activities filling up my life. I wanted roots. A home. A home of my very own with my own garage and all my junk building dust inside it.

So I left a situation where I did not feel any of that forming and I moved to a city where I felt I wanted to create my place in it's community. In Savannah, Georgia, or anywhere one should move, it takes time. There are layers of groups of people who are the fiber to the fabric of the quilt that makes up any old American town. And you have to mingle within all the layers to create your own square and design and this can take years. I was getting there and loving it. Had my core Yoga studio where I taught and had a mini group of regulars. I had my other core studio and favorite teacher who I was hoping would teach me all the many things I had not yet mastered in my craft. I was meeting different parts of the community. Working at festivals. Learning about the progression and progresses of the town. I even found a house I wanted to stay in forever! In the garage was my junk. And then my beloved wanted to join the Army, right in the middle of a war.

Time to dust off and organize my boxes and junk......again. And not just for one move, but for many sure moves in the years to come soon. And then to say goodbye to "my" community along with all my plans for the way I wanted life to be.

Two homes later (and lots of pouting), I find myself in Okinawa, Japan. Far, far from home. Far from English speaking people. Far from my art school, my Yoga joints, my parks, my stores, my friends, my bars, my dog, my cars. And before I knew it, and without even trying, a community emerged. And a community, for me, not just on my island, but on line, on the phone, on the computer, in traveling, by mail, in letters and cards, on Skype, through meditations, on planes and boats, smiles and hugs, tears and laughter, through photo albums and books, and across my laptop keyboard in blogs. I had the strongest sense of community I had ever imagined in my life and it has been internationally.

My manifestation wish.....had manifested and not at all how I intended. That is usually how it happens, right? How we least expect.

I have to say, that the military community was the most surprising sense of love and generosity I have ever felt in my entire life. This is my new Yoga breath. I have been blessed. I am a lucky girl and have had a pretty great life as lives go. But the kindness and giving I have been shown since overseas is absolutely mind blowing. It has taught me how to give from now, for the rest of my days. There is one way to say it, how I will from now on and forever be: A BIG GIVER. We have no family over here, so just immediately become family for one another. You just do. It is the only way. It is the very human spirit shining through rough times. There is nothing as kind as a military wife. I have never met anyone else so amazing.

If you need a hand when you have to go to the hospital, or find directions to a new park, are out of cash or need a lift somewhere, a shoulder to cry on, or just someone to listen, the military community is there for you. And this is how the entire world should operate.

I have become part of a book club, both in person and virtually. I have been given the fanciest baby hand me downs from swings to over priced, like new baby carriers. I have tasted home cooked food, babysat, had folks baby sit for me, had help with child rearing, volunteered at amazing functions, been given my own art show, had help with groceries and auto problems and I have soaked up the huge love and fully intend to give it back as much if not more.

Lately, I see friends and co-workers on line from Australia to the UK, the US and back to Japan. I appreciate my crazy husband so much. After fighting with him for roughly 8 months about his joining the Army, I finally gave in. I agreed to it all when I realized, and for the soul reason, that anything I opposed this much has got to be my greatest opportunity for learning, lessons and growth. Plus he has this unknown chemical, I assume, that makes it so I cannot stay away from him no MATTER WHAT. Bastard.

And it has been my greatest adventure. The past few years have been the best in my life. Life keeps getting better, too. I am so incredibly grateful for the people who I have met. The people who have driven for me, shown me the way, helped me, promoted my art, painted for me, moved my family and our junk, provided for me, loved me, pushed me, supported me, called me and I cannot even see an end to this list.

It is my duty to give back to my community. And the community I have found, is a global one.

Who'd uh thunk?!

Someone up there is dreaming a dream for me, bigger than I could have ever imagined for myself, and I live and bow in humble gratitude.

Whoa! Where have I been? Buddhas, Bellies and Bazaars.

Hey y'all. I have not posted a blog in roughly 13 weeks! My last one was about feeling my first belly kicks from the baby down below. So we have traveled quite a bit together this baby and I ever since the last post. Bout time for a new one. And I am a bit overwhelmed and Mercury Retrograde is either looming, or already here. I refuse to google it and worry about it by finding the exact date of start and finish. It would freak me and my labor plans and thoughts about Japan out. So, I am acknowledging it's presence and moving slowly along. Point being, I am not mapping out a super planned out blog. I am just practicing a brain drain here for those who care to read and connect with moi. And for you whoever you are, I love you.

I am so excited about a web site of mine that should be done about May-ish. My "lifestyle web site." It will harbor all of my passion, love, tips, networks, people I admire, things for sale, art, detailed vital nutrition info, possibility and growth all in one place. That will be found here: http://taohappiness.com/ like I said, in about 2 months.

I went to Tai Pei, Taiwan! I got a clear vision in my mind's eye, of great Buddhas and mountainous deities and me with them and marveling at them, when my husband came home from work in Augusta, Georgia one 2009 day and announced "we are moving to Japan." Little did I know, the Japan I experience has little to none of this deity action!!! Sure, I am betting mainland has these statues and great stone temples like those I learned about in Far Eastern Asian Art History class in college. But, Okinawa, not so much. There is actually a huge void of spirituality here. They pray to their ancestors and the family tombs are everywhere and quite inspirational. Some of them look like this:
(these are called Turtleback tombs)

But I cannot connect with, enjoy, or at all feel a part of this spirituality. I cannot really connect to the spirituality I saw in Taiwan either, but at least it was a site to behold to be standing at the foot of a mountain and witness a shrine the size of Ohio. Or be able to see how certain sects meditate and pray with incense.

I have recently learned and fully understood the argument that Buddhism is NOT a religion. It is a philosophy alone. I think many people like to call it their religion when they don't seem to want to become a part of any particular group, church or label and they connect with the majority of ideas of Buddhism. And that's great. It seems to be a heated debate. Stated well here on this link, even though I don't fully agree with everything this author wrote (her opinion highly guiding the article, which I think should be left out), it still is a good example of the discussion at hand: http://buddhism.about.com/od/basicbuddhistteachings/a/philosophy.htm
BUT
There seems to be a rich religious following of Buddhism in the newest part of Asia I have started to explore and it was really refreshing to see. I feel a bit sorry for the Okinawans sometimes when they seem so empty of faith of any kind. There are Buddhist temples here and churches but not as much as anywhere else I have ever been. But I am also quite sure I have not fully understood the Okinawans yet and hope to by the time my three years is up here...which is coming rather soon! Either way, I prayed and prayed hard at the welcoming shrines we visited where they offered to teach us how to make a "wish" to the shrines. And each prayer was for my health, the health of my growing baby in the belly and for the health and success of my entire family. Oddly, this is starting to sound quite like a far Eastern auspicious wish. I think I'm turning Japanese, I think I'm turning......

Another reason for the lack of blog was the art show!!! I was asked to participate in a crafty Bazaar for the USO. Japanese and American vendors sat side by side all selling their wares, art, pottery, instruments, furniture, jewelery and on and on. It exhausted me, even though I had great help setting up and sat on my butt in a chair the entire weekend. It exhausted me. I do not regret participating in it. But I did learn that this sort of networking is not really for me. And lessons are always good to learn. Needless to say, my large inventory of matted prints for sale are still very much for sale if anyone is interested in some great art prints already matted to frame and hang in your home, Yoga space or office. Another great reason for my web site launch. No, I did not sell much. but the people I met brightened my life. And that was invaluable.

More on art. I am now working as a contract, freelance illustrator! Did you hear that Dad, who so kindly paid for my college, and favorite Illustration teacher Traci Haymans, who has, since my graduation, sadly passed away?? Did you hear or read what I just wrote???!!! I recently found this in memory of Traci, my favorite teacher of all time, really: http://www.eduinreview.com/scholarships/traci-haymans-memorial-scholarship-175512/ (she was my absolute favorite art teacher and died way too young)
Yea, so I am working, working and so grateful for it. I never, ever, ever thought I would be a military wife. Ever. Just so you know for effect how much I cannot believe it. And I never, ever thought I would be a professional illustrator either. But the Universe works in mysterious ways. God is good. And what we do, our talents, our desires, they come out. No matter how hard we try to deny them. And if we try hard to deny them, we might succeed by starving ourselves to an early walking grave of a life. We may succeed. But what are people going to talk about when we are gone? What we ever did that was strong, or a gift. So it comes out again. Eventually. So don't struggle, I am saying. Your path is laid out. Your gifts, given to you at birth. They are there. They will feed you. You just have to believe, weather you understand what they are or not, that they are there and each of us has a purpose.

I am eager to teach my new daughter about all of this! All of my travels, things I have learned about money and gifts, working with people and for yourself. On and on. And all of this I have learned and gelled together since she has been growing in my belly. So I cannot help but believe she is an angel coming to meet me and teach me, her Daddy and big sister. I think she will have something to show us all. She will be a pearl of wisdom and beauty. And I feel so grateful for everything around this pregnancy, my lucky travels, my healthy family and for the work that I find myself engrossed in these days.

Namaste everyone.
Keep the faith.
More soon.

kicks and tricks

I finally am feeling the kicks!!! It seemed to take forever. I am now 20 weeks on the day of Christmas eve.

So thankful for this soon-to-be baby and for my first Christmas where my 3 year old actually understands Santa and holiday love-ness. So we just stocked up the tree with Santa's goodies, Barbie skates, bikes, books, buzz light years, toys and tricks. The first year where magic returns to my home. And I love it.

I miss my parent's home.

But sending many hugs, many smiles, much cheer to all from many miles.

Love, Bec
CHRISTmas in Japan....again....2010

~much to be thankful for this year and prayers to all.

We Found God In Primavera

I had to share this one.

Now I have NEVER been into food, or cooking or spending more than five minutes in the kitchen. But between educating myself of the JUNK that is put in so many packaged foods and even non-organic produce and having children, I started becoming very interested in food, the kitchen, new utensils and living to the fullest through nutrition.

We eat 3 meals a day and several snacks (if you are like me). And while, the earth's soil is depleted to where nutrients are hard to get into the bod, I still care about the quality of the food I make for my kids, soldier husband and my pregnant self. So when I find a meal that is easy, super duper yummy (and that DUPER is no joke, it HAS to be gooood) AND healthy, I simply MUST pass it on.

So I found this recipe off the side of a whole wheat pasta box!!! I tweaked it a little and changed it for myself and fam and have named it:

Rebecca's Pre-Madonna Primavera
(I am most certainly boasting at being a beginner "cook")

Ingredients
1 box of any spaghetti
2 Tbsp. of olive oil
2 small or 1 large Zucchini, thinly sliced
1 Red or Yellow Bell Pepper, cut into Julienne strips
1 Green Bell Pepper, cut into Julienne strips
2 cloves Garlic, minced
1 cup low fat Milk
1/2 cup grated Parmesan Cheese, divided
1/2 cup grated Mozzerella or Provolone cheese
1 tsp fresh Basil (or I buy the jarred basil sold next to the garlic/olive oil in the jar)
1 tsp Oregano
1/2 tsp. Sea Salt (or more to taste)
1/2 tsp. fresh cracked Pepper

Cook spaghetti according to package directions; drain. Meanwhile, when that is boiling, in a large skillet, heat oil and saute zucchini, bell peppers, and garlic until the veggies are JUST tender. Stir in milk, then 1/4 cup of parm, all of mozz and seasonings until all blended evenly. Heat through until slightly thickened, being careful not to boil!!! Toss hot, cooked spaghetti with sauteed vegetable mixture. Serve sprinkled with remaining cheese. Serves 6.

(or I just kept the pasta seperate and spooned the sauce over the plated portions of pasta...either way)

Very QUICK, HEALTHY, SUPER YUMMY And SOOOOOO EASY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Enjoy and Kanpai!!!!!!!!

I Remembered My Most Peaceful Moment Today

When I was around the age of 15, I had yet to study Yoga or meditation. That started around the age of 18, thank God. But one fine summer day somewhere in my 15th year came a gift, a blessing. I was on a visit to my big sister Megan's college at Indiana University, Indiana and we went about 30 minutes away on a day trip to a rock quarry swimming area in the wilderness. Megan and her friend were chatting and I swam off. The sun was shining, kissing this magical water. I did not feel the least bit lonely. I found a rock. A perfect giant cube of my own. I climbed up onto it with ease. It had about one inch of water above the perfectly flat top of it. I laid down on the on the rock, my face up toward the sun. The water made a perimeter outline all around my body. The sun warmed me. The shallow water atop this rock cooled me back down. And back and forth. I closed my eyes and rested there in Savasana style pose for I have no idea how long. It was one of my very first moments in life of pure, clean, natural relaxation and perfect bliss. How badly I must have needed that being in high school! It was an extreme gift of a moment for me.

Today, I was practicing prenatal Yoga, led by the amazing Gurmukh Kaur Khalsa
( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=du2LOQ_fDuw ) and I was taken right back to my moment on the rock. As life goes along, whenever I find myself feeling really good in the present, about all my current choices, I tend to always remember really special long ago experiences, the ones that are really deep, tucked away memories not thought of for some time. I felt this quarry memory as it came back to me in a moving meditation today. And all I can say is Wahhh!!!....and thank you Gurmukh.

A Heartfelt Standing Ovation to Mrs. Andreadis

She was my art teacher in elementary school. I had two different art teachers throughout my seven years at Ayer Elementary. Both incredible women. Ms. Bellamy (she had to go by mizz) was truly rockin' as well, owning super unique fashion, simply profound advice, great art projects, a laid back ever-present smile and oodles of creativity. Ms. Bellamy was also so gorgeous, it was like watching an ocean sunset to see her lay down a giraffe shape on construction paper with a Crayola and then color it in perfectly with gradients as though she were using fine, professional artist's tools costing way more than that simple box of 24. Everyone loved Ms. Bellamy. But it was something that Mrs. Andreadis said to me that truly stuck in my brain, my psyche and it has been coming back and back to me over the recent days, years and in different snippets throughout my life.

Right now I find myself trying to be a good parent. I found myself being a Mom long before I ever planned it. It seemed to be my destiny, and I embraced it. I am sure most people are not 100% square with themselves and living within the perfect ego balance, esteem and spirituality (wait, is anyone ever this way other than the Buddha or Jesus?) before becoming a parent. But I wished I had conquered some of those demons and learned some of those lessons before embarking on screwing up yet another young soul. Alas, Mirabelle is here and she has no choice but to learn about life right along with me, mistakes, tantrums and all (referring to my own tantrums, of course).

As I go through my (seemingly) never ending library of self-help books and enlightenment goal oriented guided meditations, I learn over and over that who we are as adults is very much created upon the way we were/are spoken to as children. I try to remember this when I am flashing a glare and some intelligent words like "are you insane!!??" at the fragile little three year old who just snatched and flattened out my new, $20, perfectly fine tipped paint brush. And I constantly compare how I am with my daughter to experiences I had growing up. It turns out, it is not all our parent's fault, says Geneen Roth in her latest awesome book, Women Food and God. It is every adult that has ever spoken to us before the age of about four and a few years following, who contributes in, molds and determines our internal dialogue with ourselves as adults, also sometimes known as the ego, conscience or self esteem. And in reading about this, I think of experiences that stand out to me, ways I was spoken to both positively and negatively at a young age that stand out and I can actually recall in detail.

One time in first grade, I had a teacher bug her eyes out of their sockets and tell me that my opinion was horrific and terribly wrong! She was teaching us about famous people who had gotten assassinated (deep subject for 1st graders, I know!). Well, not understanding what assassination even meant, I asked "why would the people with guns just not shoot the victims in the leg or arm or somewhere they could not be killed?" And then her reaction came forth. I will never forget it. She was appalled I even suggested they be shot at all. I didn't understand any of it. And all I knew was that I was standing up, speaking out, trying to understand it all and she made me feel awful, embarrassed, dirty, evil, singled out and scared (ok, I am a little hyper sensitive, but I got that from my Mom). As all adults do, they try to teach us right from wrong and with force and serious feeling so we do not ever forget. I do not hold any hate for that teacher, she didn't know she was negatively effecting a 6 year old and ruining her self confidence completely. But also, I do not recall anything lovely happening in her class either. It really makes me think about the way in which I correct and rear my daughter now that I know these things.

One moment that sparkled for me in my mind's bank of stand out events from childhood, was one statement and really more, a certain smile that felt like a warm hug that I had been waiting on for my entire life that came from Mrs. Andreadis. I have no idea how old I was when she taught my art class. I would guess somewhere between the 3rd and 5th grades. She was not as flashy as Ms. Bellamy. She was much more reserved and quiet. I didn't understand her way of being as well as my other art teacher. Mrs. Andreadis dressed like she was going to be working in a wood shop all day...but with a vest on, that looked like it belonged to a 3 piece men's suit. She was interesting and tame and much more reserved than my other teachers. She was not scary or the least bit cross, but not totally approachable either. In her class one day, we all were on our own doing an art project. I thought nothing of this project. I didn't hate it, I didn't love it. I just did it. Just like all my other school work, I usually failed at or did average with, I approached art the same. I just went through the motions with no passion or excitement. And when I stood up to show the teacher I was done and on my way to sit the wet project to dry somewhere at the other end of the classroom, she stopped me in my tracks. She looked over the news paper mache-type, yellow duck I had constructed and brightly painted with a nice, neat orange beak. She smiled at the duck and then at me. She was in no hurry. She looked at me, taking her time and said with the warmest smile, "you like to do art, don't you?" I smiled and nodded to her and she sent me on to set it down. As I said, I didn't necessarily like art any more than boring Social Studies or annoying Arithmetic. But I told her I did because I thought that was what she wanted me to say in that moment.

I probably did not think about that moment again for the rest of elementary or High School. But where am I now? How did it effect me? I am currently working as a professional, custom Fine Artist and Designer. I realized, as a 31 year old adult, that that was the first really, really, feel good, authentic, I-had-a-deep-connection-with-compliment that I was ever given. And I have never forgotten that moment, like most of my elementary school experience which I have seemed to have blocked out or have buried very deep away. She saw something in my work. And it unconsciously effected me so dramatically, that I moved deeper into the arts in junior and high school. I then chose and knew in my 17 year old bones that art was all I ever really saw myself doing until I got old and then chose a fancy art college to attend and graduate from.

Somehow in the world of a major arts school community, I got to believing that art was never going to sustain me financially and really that I was just one of a million or not good enough of an artist to ever thrive with it professionally. I have yet to uncover where that idea originated, but I don't need to dig up all wounds now do I? Nevertheless, I believed it and at graduation I left art behind like a bad habit and dove into job after meaningless job of "good" benefits, 40+ hours a week, semi-sustainable pay, a ladder to climb and oddly enough, no college degree required...in ANY of the jobs I got and took on. It only took about ten years of aimless wandering, falling into this or that, getting fired or quitting and feeling my soul dry up and crackle more than the Mojave to push me into a deep space of hurt, anguish, soul-searching and meditation.

After many years of trying, trying and trying at different jobs, careers, titles (some of them even good-hearted and decent ones) what emerged without me even knowing it was, my art. Talent. What I enjoy. The only thing I ever enjoyed without trying, just being, and Mrs. Andreadis saw it in me, at a very young age. Her kind spirit was like an oracle in my early life defining the future I never knew was coming.

I have been with life coaches, done hypno-therapy, Yoga out the yin yang, worked with therapists, done meditation and karmic healings-a-plenty, and when I felt at the brink of all this inner work, out came art work, without even my choosing it and after almost a ten year break of not doing anything creative or artistic. I was studying the details of The Secret, a book on CD I bought and listened to about 500 times over the past 5 years. It taught me to focus on; not the journey so much, but the destination. Don't watch the agonizing step by step of the stair case, just believe, KNOW and focus on the fact that you will find your way to the top. You are a worthy body of substance. And I started to have true gratitude for everything and anything, focus on my goals of being a fortuned stay-at-home Mom who made an amazing income and successfully if not fully supported her family. And I had a business plan in mind, a good one, with action steps going forth, underway. And all those plans started to fall away when I met one lady who asked me if I could donate something artsy or crafty to her shop and from there, then another woman who needed an art project done for a loved one, then another, then another, then a man who needed a special painting for an anniversary gift, then a stranger, then another who started requesting and commissioning my artwork knowledge and skills.

Out of the infinite darkness, against all odds, a way was made, but not at all in the field I expected. It was the deepest part of me. My art, my first real compliment in life, that ignited my cellular makeup. And it is rooted in me as my most sacred childhood memory. And it has, without me ever knowing it until now, molded my entire life's legacy. My elementary school art teacher, Mrs. Andredis, you gave me something to have authentic confidence in that shaped the deepest parts of my brain, thoughts and heart. Mrs. Andreadis, you recognized a glimmer of light in a very dark little girl. And for that, I stand up and applaud you for your teaching, your talents, your time you took with me, your quiet smile, your life-altering kindness toward me and all children, and the compliment you gave to me that one day over a lumpy, yellow, flimsy duck. I also humbly get down on my knees and bow to you for all of this. Your kindness to me was the seed that has sprouted my life's tree of abundance while living this recognized joyful, happy, heartfelt path. And I cannot thank you enough.

My Experience in Japan Land

This blog is long over due. But really, it is perfect timing. I just passed my one year mark living in a foreign country!!! I feel so lucky. Almost every single night I fight the urge to write (yet again) in my gratitude journal about how lucky I feel to be living in Okinawa, Japan, on a remote sub tropical island, and to be surrounded by all this palm tree bliss. The people are kind, polite, warm and generous. The American military is diverse here, many branches reside here and I dig that. This sure isn't no country, dried up Army base town. It is a thriving metropolis island with Air Force, Navy, Marines and Army! I think that is great. I love having friends in every unit. Okinawa is a completely different culture from anything Westerners are used to or accustomed to...I mean totally different and I love learning about things that are not natural to me. I feel like I have found myself here and this really, really surprises me! I know who I am. I know what I want. I know where I want to go. I realize my goals and visions. I have rediscovered old hobbies that had long collected dust and have found some new ones. I think it is safe to say, I needed Japan -desperately.

A couple stories about the kindness of the locals here. Now, I am solely speaking about the Okinawan locals. I actually have spent no more time on the mainland island of Japan than for two separate lay overs. One thing I do know that the Okinawans share with the mainlanders, however, is there love for and the way they dearly revere children. It was A DREAM flying through Tokyo as a single Mom. My daughter, Mirabelle could do NO wrong. They pushed us to the head of every line and gave her whatever she wanted or needed to be peaceful after long flights and too many airplanes for a 2 year old. The Okinawans (pronounced Ah-kee-nah-wons) revere children until the age of about 3, they believe until this time they are like literal angels here on earth and should be treated as royalty and can do no wrong. Everywhere we go, they say Kawaii (or, cute)!!! They honor nursing Mothers and give plenty of private rooms and places for that need in public. It is lovely living here with children. Even some of the public bathrooms have potty training toilet seats added to their public toilets for little bums. They really make it nice to have a crazy 2 year old. She never bothers any of them and I love that. Just the other day I was eating at a restaurant with all American clientèle and got at least two very, very dirty looks for daring to bring my loud child to this breakfast joint. Living here sometimes makes me loathe America and sometimes makes me miss it.

My first trip to Japanese McDonald's was hilarious. They offered me sesame tea with fresh lemon juice and handed me my food as though they were handing me an ancient artifact as they bowed humbly. There are no rude, over weight, greasy, disgusting employees of the Micky D's over here. They are clean, respect themselves and others and make you feel really good about eating food that is not at all healthy. Once I thought I had paid them with a $50 bill (in yen) and they gave me change for a $10. So I mentioned it, they hurried and got an English translator and corrected the transaction apologizing all over the place about 100 times. I wasn't even sure if I had made a mistake or not, just asked them to verify the change and without even looking they handed me 40-some dollars and sent me on my way. Would that ever happen in the US? Not in the Augusta, Georgia back woods McDonald's, you might be shot there and forget about finding foreign language translators, you better speak English in the US or else don't step foot there!!!!

Weather it is genuine or not their politeness is so refreshing. They are humble, quiet, subtle, gentle, demure, loving, kind and helpful. Sure, there are businesses who do not welcome Americans but for the most part, they adore our business we bring them and are very kind about dealing with the extreme language barrier and helping us however they can. I try to be as humble and kind right back to them. I honor that piece of their society. On the road, I have never heard a horn honk, seen very few car wrecks and if someone cuts another person off there is no raising of middle fingers or screaming out the windows, no. They ignore a lot of emotions that we feel in the west. If someone cuts you off or does something rude on the road, they ignore it and drive on. They do not even bat an eye. Why should anyone loose their temper over a car that will be out of their vision within seconds? This demeanor is so awesome and I have learned a lot from this. Their temper is virtually as strong as steel. I wonder how they can be so mellow? It is not as though they bottle up all these emotions and temper tantrums, they seem to just not have them at all. I don't think I have seen one, single obese Japanese person and I KNOW I have never seen one raise their voice since I have been here. Not one. It is quite a lovely culture in this way. Healthiest in the world. I totally appreciate this fact endlessly, and love living among it.

Now how is the culture weird? "What's up with that??" Now that statement sure does come out of our American mouths all the time!!! First, they love their umbrellas. They never want sun on their skin. Why any of the Japanese have chosen to stay in Okinawa is beyond me, due to the fact that the average temperature all year is like 85 degrees. It must be due to the fact that it rains more than Seattle here. Which would lead you, logically, to all the umbrella usage? Not so, they mostly use their parasols when the sun is out. Just like many Eastern cultures fair skin is definitely important to the women. The whiter, the better. Paris Hilton would NOT fit in here.

My second, "what's up with that?" would be given to the nail art. Holy Jesus (I am sorry for taking your name in vain, but for real) this is a culture in itself. I would not be surprised at this point if I saw women coming out of the nail salon with a helicopter spinning with sparkley, rainbow spray paint all over them coming out of each and every one of their finger and toe nails. So after I lived here for about 8 months I got tired of seeing my boring pale pink toes and started to pick some nail art...but just for my toes...I have not succumb to the finger claw designs as of yet. These toes pics are about as far as I reach....but we do have two more years here....




My third "wussupitdat??" is the bathroom toilet paper dispensers. I don't usually use the term OMG, but O-M-G, why oh why do they feel the need to have these toilet paper covers?



They are in every single bathroom, public, private, gas station, restaurant and residence. I am a bit of a germ-a-phobe as is, why do they feel the need to add yet another surface we need to touch when doing our business? Does it protect the glorious tissue paper-feeling toilet paper they use from collecting dust before you wipe your hind quarters with it? Well, whatever the purpose, you inevitably HAVE to touch the paper lid-cover-thing to get your toilet paper as the person before you ripped the paper to the edge of the cover's line....too much touching of things in bathrooms for my taste, says I. In the US, I succeeded to learn to get into and out of a public restroom without having to touch not one single thing. Here, not so much. Ew. The bathrooms here are wack for many reasons and I won't go off about it any longer. Potty humor is really not humor at all, me thinks. No, I have no clue where my inner-pirate came from.

My fourth "WTF??" is (you loyal MomArtYogaBabe readers have heard me talk about this before) what is up with the curtains in the automobiles?????? The bigger and nastier the vehicle, the daintier and lace-ier the curtain. It makes NO sense to me. Why have car curtains? A. they obstruct your view even when folded back. B. they cannot possibly make your car feel any cooler in this 99 flippin degree heat index and humidity. C. they make all rides look like a Hearse and straight up freak me out. D. yet another thing to collect dust and germs that is simply NOT needed. It irritates me, all the curtain-age. But to each his own I suppose :)



The next weird thing is the gelatinous type foods. If you have been to China, Korea or Japan, you know what I speak of here. From tofu to coffee, they make a gelatinous mutation out of it. They like their jelly-textured foods and this aint just in OKI, apparently it is an all over Asia sort of passion. Ew. Me no likey.



I could go on and on about how they pull over in the middle of the road to take a phone call so as to not be driving while talking, but end up causing a near fatal pile up while screeching over the the "side" of the road to get that call, but I will not go on and on, they expect one another to do those things and it just takes some getting used to. Be like the locals and with no expression, just swerve around them and assume it is critical that person ahead of you has taken that call and drive on NOT causing yourself a heart attack :) So my final "supwitdat?" is the napkins. Now ALL you military living in Oki all know what I am talking about. When one goes to a public place or restaurant in Okinawa one must use about 400 of these dainty, thin, microscopic napkins in order to get any job done. I mean, why even put these stupid things on the tables?? The napkins at every, single restaurant here are about the size of the palm of my hand and are the texture and feel of literally: TISSUE PAPER. Not bathroom tissue, tissue like that goes into a gift bag, tissue. They do NOT clean your face and hands and certainly are not enough for families with children at food establishments. It makes NO sense.



Then one day I went to buy cheap-blowing-your-nose tissues to have have in my car for my daughter. And these, now these have designs of hello kitty, cute doggies and other various Japanese art and when taken out of the travel-size packages are about the size of queen bed blanket!! Can we have someone who is bi-lingual please explain to the paper manufacturers here in Japan that we really need this to be the other way around!!?? No, I don't need to clothe my daughter with your tissues I just need to wipe her 2 year old nose. And no, I do not need your 1 cent napkin to clean her face at a restaurant, what I really need is that facial tissue blanket in my car! Thanks.

This is not weird it is cool. The pears here are about the size of a 12 month old's head and are the yummiest, juiciest things you have ever sunk your teeth into. The pears here are to die for! Filled with fiber and quite delicious. Love me some Japanese pear.



My favorite part about living here is the FOOOOOD!!!!! I am a food junkie and the food here is right up my ally. But not for everyone. My husband says it all tastes bland and boring. Well, I think that is because he is used to eating too much butter, sodium and sugar as all Americans are. Here, the fried things are lightly fried and low fat. The sweets are not very sweet, just lightly sugared. And the restaurant food is made to be either VERY spicy or seasoned with soy sauce which is quite salty. So you have to adjust the foods to your taste. And they expect you to. At most restaurants there is a jar of chili juice or spicy sauce to be added to most anything. I adore sushi, but it is so much more than that here. Yes, lots of rice. Lots of fish. Not so much red meat. They l-o-v-e their swine in Okinawa. This is my only complaint. I just don't dig on swine, but they find this fatty pork product (found in everything) to be a delicacy here. Not for me. What is for me is this:



These noodles are called "zarusoba." They are buckwheat noodles and a Korean friend of mine, here, introduced them to me. They are offered everywhere from fine restaurants to convenient stores. The sauce that you make with them is like a light soy sauce but you add fresh ginger, green onions and wasabi to it. Then with each bite, you dip the noodles in. It is lovely, filling and healthy. I have fallen in the love with the noodles here. Yakisoba is like a stir fry noodle dish. Then the regular ramen-fresh made-noodle-soup is just plain old Soba. I am not a huge fan of Udon, which are BIG, fat noodles. But the Soba I love!!!! Love, love, love. Eat it regularly. I adore Japanese food. I always have for years before moving here, and still do.

I had an interesting exchange and conversation one day with a fluent English-speaking Japanese sushi chef. I was hoping to buy a knife from him at his kiosk, but then found that they cost over $175 and thought, I might not be that great of a sushi roller to reallllly need this. But as we spoke and he told me where these were made and how the history of the knife factory dates back to the original samurai sword makers from centuries ago with the same craftsmanship, etc. etc. And so I asked him, what knife do you use when making your sushi? And he retorts, to my huge surprise and laughter, "I got my knives from factories in Chicago and New York City." Haha! What? Then what was all this about tradition, the quality and what about the samurai? He laughed and said, "my dear, the way of the Japanese and tradition is going, going, almost gone. All Japanese want American quality in their products. Japanese are used to having a history that dates back thousands of years, it is of no meaning to them. Americans do not know what a history this old feels like for a country, so they seek it elsewhere." So he marketed these traditionally made, artisan, craftsman hand made quality knives to Americans and Canadians only. He said no Japanese on mainland or Okinawa would ever be interested in buying these knives. They all buy US brands and want US quality. They disregard tradition and only look for quality. This conversation sat with me for days, weeks even! How could they deny this amazing heritage (as he told me)!!??

As I drive and walk around here I often see the elderly locals and wander, what does this woman or that man think of Americans? And the answer is basic. I think some, perhaps most, have a fabulous view of us. They were told before WWII that we tortured and mutilated any Japanese we came across. When we won our battle with Japan and Okinawa, and they quickly saw how humane we were and actually helpful in trying to get families who had gotten split up due to the war, back home and reunited with one another, we didn't just up and leave them or throw them into torturing camps. Then there are those who appreciate our humane ways of being in wars but wish we would turn their land back over to them 100%, treaty or no. I was driving one day and caught eyes with an old Okinawan man. He smiled at me so kindly. I thought, he must be at least 85 years old and MUST remember and have his own experience with or have family who had battle memories from the battle of Okinawa with the US in 1945. The battle the Americans won and how the Japanese referred to Americans as, tetsu no bōfū ("violent wind of steel"). And yet, as we passed one another and locked eyes, he smiled at me. And in Okinawa, smiling at passers by is not common. It is common to ignore or keep a straight face when you walk past a person or people. It is thought to be insane to smile at a stranger. But this man was not insane. I knew from his head nod and our quick exchange that he obviously knew I was American and accustomed to smiles from strangers. He knew I was unsure about occupying his land and his nod and grin seemed to say, "it's ok, young one. Have a nice day, friend."

That very quick exchange with the old man made me realize, he honored me by not judging me and thinking he knew what kind of person I was. And I honored him by not judging his opinions before smiling his way either. It reminded me to always remember that you never know the steps someone has walked in. Perhaps an American was nice to him or helped him at some point. Perhaps he had had a good experience with us somehow as a community. I immediately think the Okinawans are going to be mean to us or just simply not kind, wanting us gone and out of their way. I let that idea go this particular afternoon and just smiled at this man and got a big, kind smile in return. It made my day.

Sure, I have felt the wrath of being a minority for the first time. I have felt not wanted here or there, out and about in Okinawa or even in Hawaii. Once, when I was vacationing in Hawaii, I recognized some tourists speaking Japanese and I told them I was from Okinawa and they snickered, then glared at me and turned their backs. Our children were playing together on a play ground and I thought they would appreciate my small amount of Japanese speaking and for recognizing theirs while on US soil. But no, they said with their eyes, "you get off our Okinawan island, whitey." I have seen and heard protesters every single day since we have moved here, telling us to leave with their signs, sirens and motorcycles revving at 3am outside our bedroom windows. But they have recently faded off into the far away distance of my attentions. What I see mostly is the love toward my daughter, the bow at McDonald's, the sincere kindness of the restaurant owners across the street from my home and the love of the idea of world peace from the Japanese high school girls toward the Americans. And these are the only things I wish to focus on and remember about my time in Japan.