Anne Thomas

The first time I met Sawano Motohiro Sensei (1) I was deeply impressed by his gentle nature and open mind. We met in a rather unusual way, so let me explain.

Early in the day I had been introduced to a young American exchange student, Evan. He was a jazz major, but also loved Japanese. So, he came to Japan to learn the language. As we chatted that day, I realized his real love was music. So, I told him I would like to hear him play. As luck would have it, we were near a Kawai Music shop. My new friend had the brilliant idea of going there and pretending to buy a piano. That way he could perform using the very best instruments they had.   Read more...

Recently a friend told me about his best friend, Igari Yuji Sensei. (1) He told me how special his friend was. When I asked why, he told me he would send me his YouTube channel.

It turns out that Igari Sensei is a music therapist. He has his own business called The Igari Music Therapy Research Center. He works with people who have developmental disabilities. He does this in several dimensions. One is via individual and group sessions or lessons. The other is through a big band. The big band has both non-disabled and disabled persons, creating a smooth blending of worlds.   Read more...

I have a Dutch brother named Willem. In America he goes by Bill. He went to the USA with the American Field Service (AFS) and lived with my family for a year. He fit in perfectly in every way. For example, age-wise he was a bit older than my siblings and me. His English was excellent. Plus his open mind and friendly personality won him popularity wherever he went. He and my father got along particularly well. My father appreciated the intellectual discussions that went on well into the night, spilling over into weekends and other times off. Bill called him “Daddy”, feeling that was truly American.

At age eighteen Bill had no idea what he wanted to become. But he carefully observed my father and his father before him, my grandfather. Both were country doctors. Both adored their profession and devoted their entire lives to it. My grandfather lived between my home and Bill’s high school. So, often en route home in the afternoon Bill would stop by to say hello and end up staying for dinner. At those times, too, he listened and learned about the life of a general practitioner.

Bill returned to The Netherlands after a marvelous year in the States. He suffered terrific reverse culture shock. So much so that his Dutch parents summoned his American parents to The Netherlands to discuss what to do with this very unsettled young man. After an all night discussion, with the American side emphasizing that they did not want to take Willem-Bill away from his Dutch parents, they all agreed that the best course of action would be for Willem-Bill to complete his studies in The Netherlands and then he himself could choose where he wanted to live.

Life unfolded naturally. Willem entered university and decided to become a doctor, not surprisingly. “Daddy had more influence on my life than anyone else I have ever known. That is true not only of his profession, but also of the way he devoted his entire life to his patients and his commitments. Because of him I have become who I am today.” Then he added that had he not known Daddy, he probably would not have become a doctor. Being as open minded as he is, if the circumstances had been different, his life’s direction would probably have taken a different path. But once he made up his mind, he did not waver. And now forty-five years later, he has absolutely no regrets about his choice.

Willem’s specialty is neonatal care. He selected that field for several reasons. Towards the end of his medical education he worked as an assistant in an intensive care unit. He treated people of all ages, but was particularly touched by the babies struggling for life. At that time neonatal care was in its infancy (!) in The Netherlands. So he knew he would be in a wide-open field offering tremendous potential for learning and growth.

Along with focusing on his career, Willem married and had two children, thankfully both healthy. He said that the blend of neonatal care and having his own offspring enabled him to be a better father and a more compassionate and understanding doctor. However, for Willem his profession was the center of his life. “Nowadays”, he told me, “many doctors work fewer hours to spend more time with their families. But back then we did not do that. If there is one regret in my life, it is that I did not spend enough time with my family. But we have a good relationship. And now that I have stopped clinical work, I have more time to be with my wife. And for my kids we, their parents, are their best friends.”

Willem served over thirty-five years doing clinical work. That was in the Children’s Hospital in Rotterdam and the Neonatal Department of the general hospital in Zwolle.

“The work was challenging, exciting, fun. Working with the team of doctors, nurses, social workers, and parents was very rewarding. I had such a good time. Everyone worked together, trying so hard to make the best decisions for the babies and their parents. The first ten years in the field felt like a playground. It was new, exciting, thrilling. We were relatively independent. And at that time anything we did was better than nothing. That allowed a tremendous sense of purpose in my work.

“Now the situation is changing, however. Medicine has become more of a science and less of an art. Hospitals are becoming more focused on the business aspect. There is more organizational responsibility, a greater demand for efficiency. It’s not the same. Also as I aged, I felt I was losing my grip. I felt I would lose the adrenalin high that carried me through the early years. I feared losing my sharpness, making mistakes. So at age sixty-three, I stopped clinical practice.

“But that does not mean I have stopped working. Far from it! I plan never to retire. I can’t imagine myself not working. My work is such an integral part of my life and of who I am. In fact, I am now part of a research project at Utrecht University Medical Center in the Department of Neonatal Care. I have a small part in a large project. My focus is on oxygen supply to the brain in newborn babies.”

Willem also loves teaching. And he still does it. Since he is a senior in his department, he is often asked for advice. And also to his delight, he has taught over half of the neo-natalogists in the Utrecht University Medical Department. Since the field is so small, Willem is known all over the country. And in 2008 he was awarded a prize from the Dutch Society of Pediatricians for his years of devoted service.

“My job is from the heart. Almost everyday my team and I dealt with tremendous moral issues. Larger even than life and death, our concerns were about the quality of life for the babies and their parents in our care. Wrestling with these issues, working together with the team, watching the vulnerability of premature or very ill infants, dealing with the very heart of what matters most in life, all these things were the core of my work. Not many people have that privilege. But I have, and I am truly blessed.”

Now Willem’s work takes him to other countries, too. Recently he has gone to Russia several times to give advice on their budding neonatal care. He lectures and goes to conferences in the USA and in other parts of Europe. So, Willem is still very much involved in the cutting edge of his field.

“But I am not all work!” he adds with a smile. “I have hobbies, too. I love mechanics. So I am fascinated by old cars and trains. Someday I want to take the Siberian Express from one end to the other. I am also concerned about the environment, especially from the angle of how the problems will affect future generations.

“I like being involved. I want to enjoy life and to continue contributing as much as I can until the day I die. Life has so much to offer. And there is always so much work to do, so many ways I can be of service to others.”

And after forty-five years Bill’s relationship with his American father is still as strong as ever. He calls often, visits when he can. “Daddy is still the man I look up to in a very special way.”

In fact, when Willem wrote his thesis in medical school, he dedicated it like this:

To my Dutch parents, who started my way,
To my wife, who accompanies me along the way,
And to my American daddy, who showed me which way

Recently I came across a very interesting article. It was about forgiveness. I always wrestle with that virtue, sometimes more poignantly than others. I often find it very challenging to forgive, especially if I feel I have been deeply betrayed or wounded. But for me it can be equally as difficult, or more so, to humble myself enough to ask for forgiveness when I have hurt another, intentionally or unintentionally.   Read more...

Ode's mission is very inspiring for me. I love the idea of news that uplifts. And I am equally taken by the vast beauty of ordinary people living extraordinary lives. Ever since my first brush with Ode, I have felt my world expanding, precisely because my eyes and heart are opening wider and more deeply to recognize the awesome task of being human.

And of course, as my self opens inwardly, people and events come to me outwardly. So, I am living the privilege of discovery, one human being at a time.   Read more...

Eun Sunyoung¹ is a dancer. She comes from South Korea, but she lives in Japan now. She has been here for twenty-one years and plans on staying longer. She has a lot of work to do here.

I first saw Eun Sunyoung when she was dancing at an open-air performance. Her movements, along with the music, were slow, dramatic and deeply haunting. I knew then that I wanted to learn more about her and the mysterious world her dancing evoked.   Read more...

Many people these days keep referring to the Mayan predictions for the year 2012. It promises a spiritual shift in the world’s energy fields, changing our universe and consciousness for the better and forever.

A friend sent me these sites about these year-2012 predictions. They are stunningly beautiful, so I wish to share them with a larger audience.   Read more...

The subtly of Japanese behavior can be very complex. A quick glance or the hint of a frown can be pregnant with meaning. But much of that is often lost to those not brought up here. Japanese laughter, too, is one of the ongoing mysteries of this fascinating culture. What outsider can know for sure what a Japanese smile or laugh really means?   Read more...

Often when my students hand write a paper, they confuse "h" and "n", "d" and "a", or "l" and "e" because of not paying attention to the differing length (of one line) between the two letters. They always act surprised when I point out this error. And sure enough the next time they inevitably make the same mistake. I have almost given up on "l" and "r" differences, knowing my own inability to distinguish short and long vowels in Japanese.

Once after a long and trying day I was thinking about the stresses at work and also wondering what I could do about my chronic dry-eye problem. My poor eyes are constantly irritated and red. I use drops and creams and go to a doctor for treatment, but am always looking for better relief in some way. Winter is a nightmare with the dry heating systems; and summer is not much better with its allergy-causing grasses and flowers. In other words, I am in year-round discomfort.   Read more...

I have a friend who loves mountains. I do, too. So, sometimes I contact him and ask when we can go hiking. Since he knows almost every mountain in Northeastern Japan, I leave it up to him where we will go.

The other day we had a plan for a hike, but since it was raining we ended up going for a long drive instead. Of course, we headed directly for the mountains, which this time meant Yamagata Prefecture.   Read more...

Sometimes when you meet a seemingly ordinary person, you sense they have a story to tell. Masanobu Abe is that kind of person. He is quiet, but deep. A student, but not young. He studies massage at night and works in a massage clinic during the day. He is obviously a very busy, motivated man.

There are from three to five people who work in the same clinic. Most are young and are students. Some have already graduated. Masanobu stands out because he is a good ten years older than the others. Here in Japan it is very unusual for someone his age, 37, especially a man, to be starting a new field. Although it is changing a bit, usually people here are locked into a particular job track long before their late thirties.   Read more...

Several years ago when I first came to Japan, I took an Ikebana class from an older woman named Senoue Sensei. She had studied English in the school where I was working at the time, but had found verbs and grammar too tedious to learn. Needless to say, she soon quit.

However, she had a very keen interest in foreigners, so in order to be in touch with them, she started giving Ikebana lessons. “Flowers are universal. They speak to everyone the world over. So, my medium for international communication is through these magnificent creations of nature,” she said.   Read more...

In my childhood home, we had two items that my mother put on display every spring. They were a pair of trees. The stems were made of twisted silver fibers, while the blossoms were of transparent pink glass. The light shimmering through those weeping branches created an aura of mystery and magical beauty. My mother explained they came from far away Japan, which made them all the more special for us small-town children in that era before Internet and easy world travel.

Years later, I ended up living in that Far Eastern culture, whose seeds had been planted in my psyche at such an early age. And every spring when I see the gracious weeping cherries here, I remember my family’s lovely glass trees.   Read more...

Several years ago, I wrote about my friend Ichinohe, the healer. Since that essay appeared, my beloved friend has gone through many profound changes. One time, when I went for a massage, he said, “I know my body very well. There is something wrong with me. I must go for a check-up.” And sure enough, that investigation revealed a beautiful, perfectly formed spiral pattern of teeny cells spread out across the lining of his intestines. Cancer. When he told me about it, he said, “The doctor was amazed. He had never seen anything like it. And indeed, it was magnificent. It looked like the galaxies. It formed a perfect, balanced arrangement.”

I personally felt that orderliness came from Ichinohe’s years of meditation and deep spiritual attunement. But why cancer? Why something so lethal for someone who had devoted his life to healing others?   Read more...

Jin Aizawa is a very jolly man. He has short trimmed hair and a bright smile. His energy pops. He never walks, rather he dashes, always with a purpose to please. Jin is the third-generation owner of a noodle shop. His grandparents began this family enterprise in 1927. At that time it consisted of a box on the side of the main shopping street. They would whip up noodle dishes to passers-by who wanted a quick pick-me-up on their day in town. His grandfather died before his grandmother, but she loved her customers and her shop, so she kept the place open on her own. She was successful, so in 1957, she was able to buy the building behind her small stall. That enabled her to expand her business considerably.

The shop’s name is “Sen”, which was his grandmother’s name. I asked about the Chinese character for “Sen”, but Jin told me that in those days women’s names did not use Chinese characters. They used either the hiragana or katakana phonetic scripts. So, even to this day, the restaurant’s name, “Sen,” is in hiragana.   Read more...

I heard Father Pierce before I met him. He has a loud ooogaaah horn that bays out his presence as he coasts down country lanes or town streets. He also has a deep, uninhibited belly laugh that shudders happily out of him. That laugh always brings a startled response to all in earshot. He himself cuts a commanding presence with his abundant beard and imaginative attire, replete with wide suspenders. Why hide in the shadows when there is a message to proclaim? And part of that message comes through the man himself, through actions as much as words.

Nathaniel Pierce is an Episcopal priest in a rural area of Maryland, USA. However, he did not start out wanting to be in the clergy. “When I was in high school,” he explained, “it was post Sputnik and the push was towards science. It was seen as the be-all-end-all.”

Yutaka Miyazaki is a special person. He is a doctor in a small town in northern Japan. Even though his home life is rural, his heart is as wide as the earth, and his heart is as deep as compassion will allow.

Dr. M could have opened his own clinic and served his community’s colds, flus, hay fevers, and general ailments, as many with his training do here. But instead of following that conventional route, Dr. M decided to devote his life to promoting the welfare of people who are physically and mentally challenged.   Read more...

There is an interesting medical company here in Japan. It is called Fujiyaki, which means Fuji Medicines. It was started after World War II by a man named Mr. Takayanagi. He realized that many people still were undernourished after the near starvation levels they had to maintain during the war. He knew they desperately needed vitamins and minerals. He also realized transport was minimal at best, especially in the rural areas. Of course, poor transportation added to the problem of proper nutrition. But he was a man of ingenuity. So, for him the difficult situation was a challenge that he eagerly embraced.

He collected a few people to help him and sent them out into the surrounding areas on foot. They carried their supplies on their backs and went from town to town, village to village, farm house to farm house selling their wares. All the ingredients were natural and affordable. At that time, they all came from Japan.   Read more...

All throughout Japanese history, and up until recently, most people here lived in flimsy wooden houses that were packed closely together. Small fires were used for heating and cooking. Times have changed, of course, but even now most homes have kerosene heaters, which allow one room at a time to glow with precious warmth. The other rooms remain icy cold. In fact, in the region where I live most people sleep with no heat. In this day and age that is quite remarkable considering how cold Japan becomes in winter.

Since Japan is a country that trembles readily with frequent earthquakes, this heating arrangement of kerosene heaters is extremely dangerous. To keep vigilant watch, small fire trucks roam the streets on a regular basis, clanging their reassuring bell as they pass.   Read more...

Recently I went hiking with three other people. When we were at the summit, one of the men, whom I had just met that day, mentioned his grandson. This child was born very prematurely, weighing 690 grams at birth. He was in an incubator for months and even now, over a year later, he breathes with tubes up his nose because his lungs are too weak and underdeveloped to support him. Even though this youngster is not yet able to walk, he is growing, is alert, and seems quite bright.

“I’m waiting for the day when my grandson will be well enough and old enough to go hiking with me. I want to share with him the important things of life, the things I love.”   Read more...

Going to the bank can be tedious anywhere. But when you are in a foreign country with limited language skills, it can be very challenging indeed. Despite having lived here for years, I am ashamed to say that my Japanese feebly stumbles along. I can shop and get about, talk to doctors and converse on the phone if the vocabulary is simple and the pronunciation clear. I can even manage interviews for odemagazine.com. My grammar is atrocious, but I can get my ideas across. Mostly. When it comes to precision and technical terms, I am in deep water, barely able to stay afloat. Such is a constant challenge, but a great chance to stretch beyond my current limits.

Periodically I send money overseas. When I travel, I make friends. And I often end up helping send kids to school, assisting with medical expenses, or even sponsoring small business ventures. I am delighted to do this within my humble means. But the process of getting funds from here to there can be a true test of patience. There are millions of forms, of course, with specific ways to be completed. Inevitably I make mistakes, so often have to redo everything from the beginning. Several times. The poor man helping me is a saint, explaining and re-explaining, pointing and re-pointing how I must give information. But my brain does not fit into precise little boxes. So, the entire process can take hours.   Read more...

Lynne and I met many years ago. We taught in the same language school in Indonesia. Our desks were next to each other’s in the teachers’ room, so it was easy for us to become good friends. In fact, it was a joy going to work and having long yarns with her between lessons.

Living overseas is always challenging. And the ins and outs and complexity of Southeast Asia were tough for many of us middle class westerners. Plus soon after Lynne arrived in Indonesia, there was a huge devaluation of the rupia. So after only one year, Lynne and her then spouse, Ed, returned to Japan, where they had previously worked. I, on the other hand, stayed on for quite a while longer. However, Lynne and I remained friends and always kept in touch.   Read more...

One aspect of everyday Japanese culture that has always fascinated me is how the folks here seem to have a built in sense of trust that life will take care of them. I first noticed this by observing how people cross the street. When the green walk sign lights up, without even looking to either side, people step off the curb and head confidently into the road. Pedestrians know that drivers have a responsibility to keep them safe, so they proceed without a care in the world.

When I think of the many experiences I have had in other parts of the world, where cars fly around corners at top speed, the drivers only concerned with getting to their destinations and having no concern whatsoever for anyone else, I am doubly amazed by the utter trust of pedestrians here and by the caution and courtesy of Japanese drivers.   Read more...

Poverty is such a pregnant term. Probably the first image that comes to mind is physical. We can so easily visualize people alive, but virtually skeletons. Sadly, thousands today are burdened with malnutrition and the anguish of not knowing where their next meal will come from. In the mind’s eye it is easy to envisage beggars, shantytowns, inner city slums, and refugee camps. Associated with those come images of crime, violence, and danger. In fact, who anywhere can say they live in safety?

But there are other less apparent dimensions of poverty, too. Emotional, for example. How many people live in the abyss of emotional starvation? How many cover up their echoing hollowness with excessive drug use, selfish sex, constant stimulus, violence, or greedy relationships? How many live in the grip of existential loneliness and despair?   Read more...

Whenever I read the articles sent into www.odemagazine.com, I am always struck by several things. The first, of course, is the hopefulness. Also there is creativity and imagination. The focus is not on greed or grabbing, but rather on openness, generosity, and trust. Plus the diversity of expressions, projects, and happenings are very titillating. And like icing on the cake, there is often a touch of humor and fun, too. Just the fact that so many souls from so many backgrounds and outlooks contribute is very exciting indeed.

The prism of perspectives, creativity, and hope-filled endeavors are magnificent, but there is a deeper dimension, too. And that is an underlying theme or pattern that holds them all together. That unifying principle might be compared to a white light that bursts forth into a spectrum of many colors, or the reverse, where the many return to their common source, the light. From the Buddhist perspective it could be seen as the integral relationship between emptiness and form.   Read more...

Steve and I met on a subway. He was sitting across from me and looked just like my childhood playmate grown up. So when he got off, I followed him and started a conversation. It turned out Steve and I were kindred spirits: both loving to travel, both open to adventures, both consciously trying to learn and grow, both wandering souls, if you will.

Despite our twenty-year age difference, we got along well, so I did some wheeling and dealing to get him a part-time job at my college. That way we could meet several times a week and talk to our hearts’ content. Of course, our friendship deepened.   Read more...

When I was in my early twenties, Simon and Garfunkel were immensely popular. We would play their tunes night and day, and revel in the idea of being part of the culture they, and others like them, were ushering into the world. One song in particular that stuck like glue was “A Bridge Over Troubled Waters”. It is still with me. Round and round and round it has played in my head and heart over these many years.

* * * * *   Read more...

Sasaya is a small rural village in Northeastern Japan. It consists of one street with houses on both sides. Behind these long narrow homes runs a river, which considerately divides itself to flow on both sides of the street. The water is crisp and cool, coming straight off the mountain. Locals use it as is for drinking and cooking. And since it never freezes, despite the rugged winters in that area, it is appreciatively used year round.

Behind this small fast-flowing river are huge vegetable patches bursting with summer produce that bring tomatoes and cucumbers, onions and squash, daikon and potatoes to the family table. Since the one and only supermarket is a long drive away, homegrown food is a fact of life, as it has been for centuries.   Read more...

In Asia the Goddess of Mercy and Compassion is an integral part of daily life. Most often she is called Kwan-Yin in China, Avalokitesvara in India, or Kannon in Japanese, but there are other names as well. Sometimes, too, this divine being takes on masculine expression. But no matter the form, this beloved entity always shows deep, unconditional love for all manifestations of life.

She comes in many images, the most captivating of which has a halo of 1000 arms fanning out from around her body. This multitude of appendages makes a perfect circle of all embracing Love radiating out from the Heart center of the divine. No one or nothing is ever left out, no matter how imperfect they may be.   Read more...

Do you know the difference between a harper and a harpist? How about a fiddler and a violinist? If you did not know before, you have probably figured it out already. A harper and fiddler play traditional tunes, whereas a harpist and violinist play orchestral music.

Such interesting tidbits I learn from my friend Markio, who is an Irish harper. She is only in her early 30’s, but is finding herself in a budding career that she never dreamed of.   Read more...

For the most part Japanese people are focused on new things. They are hooked by the latest gadgets, the most recent conveniences, up-to-the-minute fashions, modernized homes, and the newest model cars. The latest. The best. Image. Identity.

On rare occasions, however, I get to meet someone outside that focused desire for material newness. The other day I was invited to a young couple’s home in the country. The husband, Ken, grew up in Tokyo. He was always fascinated by Spain, so after high school headed there for a stint to learn about life and himself. About other cultures, too. And in the process how to cook Iberian dishes. Later he returned to Japan and worked in various offices, even for a local government. But his heart was always in the countryside. He had loved animals and the out-of-doors since he was a child. And the longer he worked in offices, the more he longed for the country.   Read more...

Japan has a reputation of holding women back. But women here have a way of holding their own. Despite their demure manners and deferring behavior, they can be astonishingly strong. For the most part they are hardworking, unafraid of making decisions and of sticking by them. Also most often they will be enthusiastically contributing members of any group they belong to. “We do our best in whatever we are called upon to do,” they will tell you.

Many strong, focused women of ambition choose to start their own enterprises, rather than be trapped in the often limiting, ritual-strangling, demeaning jobs that a regular company has to offer. One such person, Miyoko, is a perfect example. She started low, observed, learned, held onto her dream, and worked her way up to where she is now, the owner of a fine study-abroad company.   Read more...

Ted has been my friend for well over thirty years. But curiously, I have never met him. I get a very gentle magazine called “Fellowship in Prayer”, and once long ago they asked if subscribers would like to correspond with prisoners. Of course, I said yes. And that is how Ted and I got connected.

I have never asked my friend what he did to land himself in prison. I felt it was not important unless he wanted to tell me. He never has. And I respect his privacy and dignity in this matter. So, Ted and I relate on more hope-filled dimensions than the mistakes of the past.   Read more...

This is the final section of this series honoring my father. The reason I chose to write about him in the first place was because many of the values he espoused might do well being reinstated. They could possibly blend happily into today’s world, which in many ways is seeking a new identity and connection to its emerging soul.   Read more...

Another touching story that shows my father

My father, an old fashion country doctor, used to make house calls to farms near our town. On days when we kids were not in school, we were allowed to accompany him. Farms are terrific places for youngsters to wear off excess energy. So, we would run and play in the fields, peer at animals in the barn, scramble up haystacks, climb fences, and swim in the creeks. We city kids rode cows and rubbed horses

Even though Ode