My journey started…well, … when I was born into a Nikkei (Japanese immigrant) family, I guess. In Honolulu, I was surrounded by Americans with Japanese ancestry and was neither intrigued by Japan, nor prompted to pursue any interest in it. I was brought up with obligatory stories and customs, which gradually faded even more as I made my way to the mainland, far, far away from my roots.
It took 10 years of journeying across China and learning the language until one day I found, Japan was suddenly, indeed on my heart. More specifically Okinawa. I was drawn at first to the blue zone in a village within Okinawa where it is not uncommon to meet centenarians and super centenarians (over 110 yrs old) gardening, talking with neighbors, always moving, never sedentary. I was drawn to their diet and engaging attitudes toward life and people. I am not of Okinawan ancestry, but friends who are, are fairly passionate and proud to be Okinawan. I always envied that pride and passion.
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I began learning Japanese in my childhood but was never good at it and never took it seriously. After learning Chinese however, I found that I actually enjoy learning languages. I find it relaxing and very satisfying and fulfilling to be able to communicate with a whole new group of interesting people. And so, in 2022, I picked up Japanese again, this time more seriously.
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When I was in Kobe in 2015, I was not feeling at all like I could possibly be related to anyone I came across in Japan. One day, I was led by the Holy Spirit to a tower overlooking a Ferris wheel where I saw someone who looked like my deceased grandmother. A rush of unkind emotions welled up from the pain of having to conform to what she said were the superior ways of the Japanese. I was told nothing about the war crimes Japan committed to Chinese and Korean civilians. In China one strain of my assignments involved apologizing and asking for forgiveness on behalf of Japan for their heinous crimes. I had come to feel much more Chinese than Japanese.
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In one sweeping moment I realized I would have to forgive my grandmother. Tears welled as I went through the pain and shame of what the Japanese had done. I spent the afternoon on a Ferris wheel ride with Jesus, one of the most memorable and enjoyable moments with the Holy One in Japan.
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Last year, an assignment started to unfold as my Japanese teacher introduced the concept of Ikigai to me. Ikigai is arguably the number one reason why the villagers of Ogimi live so long. Ikigai can be boiled down to one’s reason for getting up every morning. It involves a centeredness and groundedness, a passion for life and people, and an understanding that we are an important part of daily life to the community who depends on us to be there, and an important role in the course of humanity on earth. There is a sense of humility and gratefulness amongst its people and a desire to keep learning and growing no matter how old one is. My heart was ignited by hearing about their passion for life. I made arrangements to stay with a household in Ogimi.
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As was my custom in preparing for a trip to China, I began making new friends across Japan. One new friend named Manako said she was really interested in my religion. Shocked, I said, “I thought Japanese people were not very interested in religion.” She said she was but didn’t know who to ask about it. I shared the gospel in the simplest of relational terms, feeling it a stretch to ask someone out of the blue, to believe that God sent his Son to be a human, then died for our sins and was resurrected, but she had no problem believing it. “If you believe these things, then you can say this prayer,” I said. “I’ve never prayed before, so I don’t know how.” I started by praying for her but she had to go. The next time we met online I asked if she prayed. She said she wasn’t sure if she did it correctly. I wrote out a prayer for her. She said she prayed it and believed. “If you really believe these things, then God welcomes you into his family, and you can call yourself a Christian.” She pondered it. We set up a time to meet since I have to pass through her hometown in order to get to Okinawa.
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A few weeks ago I had a recurring dream of a high school friend who was the best high school trumpet player in the state. While I wanted to beat her, I found it impossible to dislike her because she was so dang friendly. Carleen was to become one of my closest musician friends throughout my teen years, and someone with whom I shared my faith. She in turn became a fireball, sharing her faith with everyone she met. We lost touch after years apart, but when she showed up in my dream twice in 3 days, and twice replaying this drama of us holding our trumpets and me asking her when we were going to play Bugler’s Holiday again, I was prompted to give her a call.
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Carleen, warm as ever welcomed my call and shared her heart for, of all things, Okinawa, where her ancestry and relatives were. She had a burden for them to know the Lord. I shared that maybe this was a reason she showed up in my dream?
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Today I had the thought to go to a church which I had gone to a few times in the past and was feeling prompted to consider going back today. Feeling sometimes lonely there since I don’t know anyone well besides the minister, I prayed that I would meet someone God had for me. Having arrived 10 minutes early and seeing the sanctuary empty, I walked the church grounds. I came across a lone woman with a cane which she wasn’t really using. She asked if I was looking for something. I said, “no, just walking.” She said, “me too.” I then really looked at her and got the sense she was really looking at me. “This is just my 5th time here over the course of 2 years,” I said, “but I haven’t gotten to know anyone very well.” Are you a long-time member? She was. At that point she began introducing me to everyone she knew… And it seemed like everyone knew her. All these times in the past, I had felt unseen. Now I felt like everyone was interested in me. I sat with her in the front of the large sanctuary. Someone told me another woman was 100 years old. She walked upright with strength and looked like she was 70 or 80 to me. “Wow!” I said out loud. She had me input my phone # in her iPhone and invited me to a book club. “I’ll be there!” I said I was hesitant about coming today but I prayed I’d meet the right person. She said she wasn’t going to come to church either, so there you go.
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Curious when I got home, I googled her to find she was on all sorts of city advisory committees and planning organizations. And, (wait for it…) she was 98 years old! Could there be a community of healthy centenarians right under my nose?
Why Japan?
Yokatta よかった！ (you did it)! My new friend Yuko (name changed) said when I texted her that I had successfully gone to a “daiyokujo” 大浴場
(public bath). My hotel had a natural hot springs bath, and I had spent months psyching myself up to enjoy the onsen and ofuro baths that Japan had to offer. “You can’t wear a swimsuit, you know, she said.” When I mentioned it to other Japanese friends, they said, “I thought Americans are too embarrassed to go naked?” I said, “but that’s the one thing I know I have to do if I go to Japan.”
On my first night, I wondered, “do I put on my yukata 浴衣 (bath wear) with nothing underneath, and then take the elevator to the women’s floor?” I was relieved to find there was no one there so I had the whole bath to myself. “I think I did it wrong,” I told Nami, another new friend (name changed), asking her if I have to leave the yukata a good length away from the bath. “Yes, but you can wear your underwear up to that point, then you have to take everything off and walk from the locker to the washroom and bath.”
On the second night, I had the whole place to myself again. Relieved, I went through the necessary steps. I think I am ready for people now.
Yuko, a language partner from Tokyo whose normal speaking voice was always 3 half steps above mine and 1.5x faster, had asked if I wanted a travel partner. “Absolutely,” I said, thrilled for her help navigating Kyoto and Hokkaido, and other places she loved visiting. As we prepared to take the Shinkansen しんかんせん(bullet train), she kept looking at her phone, complaining that her colleagues and boss could not do their work without her help.
“I’m kind of an alcoholic,” she said.
“Do you mean workaholic?” I asked.
“Oh that too, probably both,” she said.
During one of our early conversations, she asked if I drank. I said I could drink some red wine. “I can DRINK” she said proudly. Her assessment of herself proved to be true.
After wrapping up our trip to Kyoto, I ventured with fear and trepidation to make my way on my own to Osaka by using Google Maps. Turns out Japan, very unlike China, makes travel for foreigners so accessible with instructions in multiple languages at every crucial point.
Nami, another language parter I had up to that point never met in person, asked with curiosity about my religion.
“Hmph,” I said, “I thought Japanese people were not interested in religion,” but happily explained the rather remarkable, somewhat unbelievable story of how the God of the universe sent his Son (his self) a human, to rescue the human he created, how that Son died, but actually came back to life and sent us the Holy Spirit. ” 三位一体“ to live within those who believe. The trinity through the phrase “3-in-1” is an expression prevalent in both China and Japan that people seem to know and understand.
“Does that make sense?”
“Yes”
“Hmph,” I wondered, that was too easy.
I enjoyed spending time with Nami who in contrast with Yuko spoke at .75x my rate and seemed pensive and concerned with the deeper things in life. I slowed my pace and relaxed into the relationship.
After a day with Yuko, I ventured to Okinawa using Google to find a very cheap fare to Okinawa where I rented a car and found myself in the driver’s seat on the wrong side of the car. “Press brake, push start,” said the female rental car agent. “Mirror—here” she pointed. “Gas, break. OK?
I couldn’t believe they allow any foreigner with an international drivers license drive their new cars out of the parking lot regardless of which side of the road they are used to. “Wait a minute,” I sat nervously in the car, trying to imagine how to drive on the left side of the road. After 10 minutes of pushing buttons in the car, I inched out of the parking lot.
Today I make my way to the highlight of my trip: Ogimi Village, one of the 5 Blue Zones on earth where a good number of people live an active life past 110 years old.
Why Japan? Well it is a very popular destination this year, and aptly so, but there has been a burgeoning desire to reconcile with my roots as a Japanese American, seek life as those in Ogimi Village are doing so well, and understanding why this is an assignment.
Thank you for reading.
Carolyn June 6, 2023
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