An entire month has passed as my attention has been divided and my words have drifted in the blank spaces of my mind.
Where has my attention been? Well…
Iβve just released the third issue of The Universal Asian.
Itβs growing in readership and content, which gives me a sense of satisfaction and conviction that we are building a community and space that I have been envisioning.
There is a thing called personal space.
The amount required depends on the person, culture, etc. I have gotten used to having less of it through living in Japan π₯ where this concept is a luxury even if on a person to person basis people would like more of it.
The other day, I knew that I had grown in my tolerance for close proximities to strangers when I only momentarily paused as someone stepped on the back of my flip-flop as I got off the train.π
This was again tested, the second time that someone stepped on my shoe on the same day.
Although my inner voice was screaming, βBack the F*@K offβ, π£ my more βmatureβ voice took in a deep breath, smiled, waited for the foot to come off of my shoe and continued on. π§π½ββοΈ
Of course, there are multiple perspectives on this. One, βπ½I should/could choose to wear different shoes that might be less likely to get stepped on. Two, βπ½I could push back or give dirty looks at the offender to make them feel momentarily bad or confuse them as to the problem – either way creating a negative exchange. Three, ππ½ I can accept it for what it is and delay contemplation.
Obviously, I have chosen the latter of these options.
My contemplation π€ is, what makes it necessary to be so close to someone that you can actually step on the back of their shoe? Or, is it the make of the shoe in that the delay of the flip and flop is just that slow in that it unbalances the rhythm of steps for everyone? π³
Whatever the case, I thought I would bore you with this anecdote, but interested in other theories and thoughts too because I canβt quite figure it out. In the meantime, I am wearing thicker soled shoes to thicken my patience. π
~T π
Eating is one of my favorite things to do. Good food makes my legs move and my body dance. I am also wont to hum a happy tune as I chew and savor a bite of goodness. ππ½ββοΈ
Some time back, I was talking to someone and relaying a story about an experience eating. As I was telling the story and saying, not for the first time in my life, that I hate to eat alone, I got suddenly teary-eyed. I had to smile to ward off more tears as I said it again, more for my own sake than the other person’s.
Perhaps it was hormones or the chemical imbalance of my emotions, but as I contemplated later the emotional reaction, I realized just how deep the feeling goes.
In my adoption papers, it says:
According to the foster mother, she (I) would eat much. In my (social worker’s) opinion, it seems that she (I) would take (eat) much because of her (my) lack of love.
Food seems to always have had an emotional connection to me. Possibly, eating was always a happy time with my birth mother. π€±π½
In my family, sitting around the dining table for dinner together was always one of my favorite times of the day. It was when we shared our days, talked about plans, and in general talked with one another – good or bad. Generally, it was less about the food (though I do love food!), but more about the socializing.
This attitude continued as I got older. University mealtimes were something to look forward to as time to catch up with my friends and we almost always met up in the cafeteria or went there together. It was an unspoken agreement that no one ever ate alone.
Never did I eat alone outside of my home until I was in my 30s. Even these days, I will limit the places that I consume food on my own to cafes or while on the move π³in between locations. Also, I will often avoid eating at all until I am home where I deem it safe to eat by myself if I must. π€·π½ββοΈ
More than this dislike for eating alone, I especially dislike eating in silence. π€π π½ββοΈThere is absolutely no need to be in the company of others and not be talking while enjoying some food.
Whenever I see couples together at a restaurant and they aren’t talking while eating, I feel sad for them. Or, when groups are out and most of the people are on their phones, it is disappointing even if they are ‘talking’ online.
In these cases, the full experience of breaking bread together is diminished. The Urban Dictionary defines “breaking bread” as:
To break bread is to affirm trust, confidence, and comfort with an individual or group of people. Breaking bread has a notation of friendliness and informality, derived from the original meaning regarding sharing the loaf.
Therefore, it is meant that through eating together and conversations we build trust and confidence with each other in a comfortable manner.
So, when I am with someone who doesn’t talk while eating, choosing to look at their phone or do something other than share the experience with me, I get sad and disappointed. When I am with someone who devours their meal without breathing, or the reverse, picks at their food with boredom, I get frustrated. I’d almost rather eat alone in those cases – almost! π€¦π½ββοΈ
In any case, it’s probably just me and my issues.
I get that, but if I can encourage everyone to develop an appreciation for food or at least the experience of eating with someone else, then I feel as if I’m helped to make the world a better place!
Let’s eat! π½π₯°
~T π
While waiting at the airport with my mother due to our seven-hour delay to get to Mongolia π²π³, I did a lot of people watching. I am always fascinated by behavior whether as a social norm or an individual. Often, I find myself imagining what people are thinking or the background behind their actions. π‘
As we were sitting on lounge chairs to pass the time, people came and went to rest before boarding their flights.
Some people dropped their stuff on multiple chairs to lay claim to them while freely coming and going. Some people rested for a few moments and then jumped up to carry on with their business. 𧳠Still others sat down, like we did, pulling out devices π±and settling in for a long wait.
The seats next to me were generally occupied by a brother and sister π«, who were like any other kids these days, playing on their devices. Over the period of a couple of hours, they had spread out their things with a sweatshirt hanging on the back of a chair, bags all around, and they were in for the wait.
Finally, the time π° to board their plane π« came and they quickly gathered up their things to stand in line, leaving behind the sweatshirt.
Typical of the lounge seats, they are rarely ever unoccupied for long and soon enough a mother and young daughter swooped in to have their turn in the coveted seats. The mother noticed the sweatshirt hanging off the chair and yelled out to the girl who had just been occupying it. However, the girl was busy putting her things into her backpack π and no one else was paying attention; so the shout out went unheeded. π
I wondered what the mother would do next while her daughter looked at her with a seemingly similar question. π©βπ§
The mother simply shrugged her shoulders and said, “Well, I tried.” To which, her daughter accepted and they carried on. ππ½ββοΈ
I almost laughed out loud. π€¦π½ββοΈ Was that a reasonable claim to “trying”? π€
Only a couple of minutes later, the mother and daughter got up to stand in the same line as the girl who had left the sweatshirt behind. The sweatshirt remained.
Clearly, the mother’s trying was complete and forgotten.
In the meantime, I found myself debating on my own action. In my disbelief with the mother’s claim to have tried, I ran through my own mind π€―: What is my version of trying? Should I get involved? What if the sweatshirt was actually important to the girl? What if it was the only sweatshirt she had? What if her dead grandmother had given it to her as the last gift she had received from grandma? (Like I said, I can create all kinds of scenarios and drama in my head!π€·π½ββοΈ)
Seeing the girl up ahead in the line, I processed these questions in the 30 seconds or so that they passed through my mind π§ and grabbed the sweatshirt. I needed to stretch my legs anyway. I walked straight up the line, asked the girl if the sweatshirt was hers – to which she acknowledged it was -, smiled as she thanked me and went for my walk. ππ½
It was a small act and took very little extra effort of “trying” than shouting out to deaf ears and giving up.
What affected me and still lingers in my mind is the human capacity of lying to ourselves on what it means to “try” without any deep consideration of the results in the action.
To me, one of the main reasons that people are unhappy is a lack of empathy and compassion for others or our possessions. That mother had no concern for the left behind object, nor what it might mean to the person who left it behind.
In our privileged world, we tend to take everything for granted. We lose a sweatshirt, we’ll buy another one. We forget a birthday, there’ll be another one. We haven’t talked to a friend in weeks, they’ll still be there.
Yet, what if that sweatshirt can’t be replaced financially, sentimentally? π’ A little bit more effort could prevent an emotional disturbance. π€©
What if there isn’t another birthday for that person? π₯ A simple message to acknowledge their life could make a difference in the final days. π₯°
What if your friend isn’t there next week? π A quick “Hey, thinking of you.” could reconnect you and perhaps be just what was needed for both you and your friend. π
Everyday, we make choices. We love to claim that we don’t have time to do this or that choosing to connect with our phones or TV rather than “trying” to participate in the building of humanity. π
Rather than express our annoyances or joys with one another, we bury our heads into our devices, or tell ourselves that either we or they are unimportant. Thus, we don’t really ever “try”. π€
The mother and daughter in the story sadden me π₯Ί because the daughter learned from her mother that both objects and people are only worth a minimal amount of ‘trying’ and any conscience-ness can be shrugged away with “Well, I tried”.
As a humanist, I believe we can do better and that we have a responsibility to “try harder”. πͺπ½
~T π
Having weekends to myself has been the most challenging in terms of how to pass the time enjoyably, but also meaningfully for me.
I have loved fireworks since I was little, but in the US we can only enjoy them once a year really. However, it was always my favorite part of the 4th of July picnics that my family would host. Each year, they got bigger and better, but honestly, once I saw them in Japan nothing ever compared.
Every night, we can see the Disneyland fireworks from our bedroom window, but M thinks I’m crazy to get excited for them. He also felt lukewarm about the shows put on in the UAE, so I figured this was a good chance to go see some summer fireworks and he would not necessarily be disappointed by missing them.
The only issue with attending any major event in Japan is the crowds. It doesn’t matter where you go, if it’s an event, you’ll be sharing it with thousands of other people. So, I decided to be proactive in minimizing my crowd-discomfort and bought a ticket to ensure that I would get a seat to enjoy the show. Plus, I would have a safe place to aim for to keep me from being overwhelmed with too many people.
Despite my planning ahead in buying a ticket in order to avoid the chaos involved with attending summer fireworks festivals, I ended up on the wrong side of the river. How would anyone ever know this?!
While I do fully appreciate the Japanese complacency to follow rules to the letter, I am not such a kind of person when efficiency proves doing so to be completely out the door. The nice staff lady tried to tell me I had enough time to walk another kilometer, get on another train and then find my seat on the other side of the river, all I could think about was that Iβd have to return to this side of the river when all is said and done to get home; thus why I thought my seat would be here.
So, taking advantage of the fact that most would not assume that I wouldnβt follow the rules, I snuck back in to the riverside and walked down where people were not on their previously saved blue tarps – the peanut gallery.
I found a nice little free space amongst those who most likely knew better than to consider buying a ticket and knew that one could just show up to find a grassy spot for the viewing.
While waiting for the show to start, I listened to my audiobook and observed as a solitary individual within the sea of chattering people in groups or couples who had come together to experience βsummerβ culture in Japan. Although it would be basically impossible to merge into a giant BBQ event in the US, itβs rather easy to blend with the crowd of unknown faces while remaining in my own private world looking forward to the moment when the dark sky becomes alight with colors.
What is it about fireworks that people love? What is it about them that I love?
I canβt really say. But, there is something awesome about seeing manβs talent for shooting up bombs of fire that burst into colors, shapes, or designs. In a way, it’s how I imagine the ‘heavens’ with lights blended together into a glorious mass of color.
Edogawa is said to have 14,000 fireworks making it one of the largest shows in Tokyo. The hour long display was marvelous. It was fun to oooh and awwwwe with the crowd and feel a part of the whole audience. Plus, I got to play with my camera to capture the lights!
Click on the pic to see more!
~T π
While some people choose to go into a sauna to sweat out π₯ the toxins in their body, the summers in Japan π―π΅ work just about the same when you step out the door. π
The weather has drastically changed from rainy season βοΈ to sweaty season π. Although I donβt feel that it is that hot in terms of temperature, the humidity makes the 91 degree F into something in the hundreds π₯΅. It also means that despite a cool-ish breeze, it is impossible to open windows to let the air circulate in the house due to the dampness that will surely enter instead. π§
Thus, itβs nothing by βdryβ function or straight AC all the time.
Somehow, though, I think I have gradually adjusted to it and accepted that the next month or so is going to be filled with trying to remember to take a hand towel π§π½ββοΈ with me everywhere to wipe the sweat from walking between air-conditioned locales.
In a way, this has timed well with my decision to do a food detox. Since I donβt particularly like to cook, π π½ββοΈπ©π½βπ³ and especially donβt enjoy doing it for just myself, it was a perfect time to give it a go.
Although I regularly do intermittent fasting once or twice a week to maintain my weight, I found that my body was getting used to it and I was gaining more than I liked. Therefore, I decided to try a full-on five day cleanse. ππ½ββοΈ
This means that I did the following:
*Drink warm freshly squeezed lemon π water in the morning in lieu of tea or coffee.
*Drink water or sports drinks throughout the day (to fight the humidity sweats).
*Drink dandelion tea at night with a few more glasses of water.
*Have a simple smoothie of half a banana π, frozen berries π, super-green powder and fruit juice or water on the few occasions when I felt weak or just wanted a variation of liquid.
After six days, actually, I returned to food, but following Lyn-Genet Recitasβs _The Plan_ to become more aware of what food my body reacts negatively to.
This is based on the idea that there are a number of ingredients that we eat that can cause bloating, indigestion, constipation, π₯΄ etc., which are considered negative reactions. We tend not to pay attention to how our bodies react to the food that we eat because we eat everything altogether and do not carefully consider which specific thing we ate could have caused the reaction.
As I have become more and more sensitive to food, air, nature, etc. as I get older, I have noticed an increase in skin issues, digestive concerns, and more. Therefore, I would like to investigate π€ in a natural and methodical way what my body is doing with the food that I put into it.
Even on the detox, I have noticed that my throat has slowly been constricting π² from either lemons or dandelion tea. Iβm leaning towards the dandelion tea as the culprit since it is the newest addition to my intake list and as Iβm allergic to grass, itβs probably related. Unfortunately, the symptoms can take days for me to realize what is happening since it does not come on instantly like other reactions that I can have. So, I am eliminating it now while keeping everything else the same for a couple of days (i.e. not adding in anything different or new until I see if the reaction in my throat goes away). If it doesnβt after a couple of days, then Iβll eliminate the lemon water as well and see if that does it.
In any case, Iβm in a holding pattern now with the carrot-ginger soup π₯£ and steamed broccoli π₯¦. Though, I think I will try the hummus I made with carrots π₯ as well since these ingredients are not meant to be reactive according to The Plan (though I still could have reaction to these as well).
While my goal was not to lose weight βοΈ exactly, I have already lost 3 kg (6.6 lbs) in just about a week. Some of that would obviously be water weight, though I feel as if I was drinking enough water to counter that! So, thatβs a kind of perk. More happily for me personally is that the underlying 4-pack Iβve been working on at the gym ππ½ββοΈ is finally showing itself since the flabby belly that was hiding it is starting to disappear. It helps me to see what areas to work on more in my workouts. π
So, the journey continues. I have another week on my own to not be overly influenced by my hubbyβs eating habits π€£π and to keep on experimenting with my food. Hopefully π€π½, by the time he comes back Iβll have a base to be able to keep me on track (and maybe get him started?!).
Iβll keep you posted on what I find! ππ½
~T π
The downside of going back to work and working for a business rather than an academic institution is that vacation days are limited. Add to that other life challenges, makes for a bit of a difficulty in taking summer holidays.
However, I’m not at all complaining as life is a far cry (positively) from what it was just over a year ago – still trying to work out how to update on that….
Anyway, we were finally able to manage a trip away from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo life over a long weekend.
Both of us needed the bit of rest that the beautiful blue waters and sun of Okinawa provided us.
Most of our time was spent on the beaches as we tried out most of the popular ones thanks to being able to drive around the main island. The weather was absolutely perfect and so here are the photos that say it all!
~T π
