Reflections of a Winter Walk

Last week, amidst the tragedy fallen upon Haiti, constant abdominal pain, and the need to get some fresh air, I decided to take a short walk with my new camera. I had wanted to write a blog that week, but in light of the situation in Haiti, I felt there wasn't anything to say. So consider my silence a tribute.

Sometimes, or oftentimes, it is easy to envision your surrounding life as difficult, depressing, or even mundane. Perhaps you wonder, what happened to my passion for life? For (insert something you think is important)? What happened to motivation, or even interest? The past months have, in any case, facilitated the time to think of these things. Even now, I am continuously pondering why and how passion always changes.

And in some of those times, a simple walk can cure a case of lost passion.

A walk to the hills behind your dwelling. Hills you often think about and wonder, what would I find if I climbed those hills? Perhaps, an old blue shack, crackling paint revealing the building's nature.

Or, bright, red cherries hiding in tall, dry brush.

Then, discovery of a small temple. A pathway nearby climbs even higher to reveal a peek of the landscape.

Continue further, over felled bamboo trees, and discover - magic.

 

  Leaves rustle loudly as the wind throws its way through. The gentle clunking of hollow bamboo trees against each other creates a symphony all its own.

The sun glimmers through the trees as they sway to and fro, and the forest floor shimmers in response.

A time like this takes words from not only the mouth, but also the mind. They disappear in the forest's song, and suddenly perspective finds its way back. There, in the midst of tragedy and turmoil, depression and monotony, exists peace. Even, joy.

I returned back home that afternoon with numb fingers, rosy cheeks, and peace - not only of mind, but also of heart.

The First Sunrise

明けましておめでとうございます！ (akemashite omedetou gozaimasu, i.e. Happy New Year!)

Winter has settled in here on the east side of central Japan. Days begin with gradient, transformative colors as the sun's orange circle slowly awakes the country. This is the land of the rising sun, after all. As the sun makes it daily trajectory through the sky, we enjoy its warmth - all we have really, as Shizuoka is so windy and drops the otherwise moderate temperature. Our apartment was frigid when we arrived back home at the end of New Year's Day. Two weeks absence + no heating + drop in temperature = freezing cold apartment. Somehow I shivered and shook my way through making our bed, brushing my teeth and leaping into our icy bed, the heater on high. Remember, no central heating in Japan (well, except in Northern Japan, where it's like the North Pole or something).

Two weeks flew by quickly in Washington. We greatly enjoyed the precious time with family and friends, and sad that we could not have more time to spend with others we didn't have a chance to see. We realize now that two weeks isn't nearly long enough to manage this. Perhaps a longer visit next time? We'll see.

However, on to other matters! The great success of this trip is what shall be known from here on out as: The Diagnosis. After a messy departure from Japan (we left a day late due to my being incredibly ill), almost-constant nausea, hard-feelings towards anyone driving but my husband, whom my sister says must have driven like an old woman (no offense to old women, but David isn't exactly an old woman) and incredible jet-lag, the moment of truth finally arrived. (Of course, I swore off all moving things after the trip, and every time I see an escalator now I scrunch up my face - only realizing this when David laughs.) As the nurse did the pre-doctor things nurses do, and as I fitfully tried to explain two months of hell to the nurse, my doctor knocked on the door with the two-page letter I had faxed her.

"You've just been through it haven't you?" she said empathetically.

"Yes! We are so frustrated! I haven't been at work, I feel so terrible... it's so awful..." Feelings tumbled out of my mouth easily, opposite of my inability to vomit when in any moving object.

"Well, let's see if we can fix you up!"

She did a quick check, asked a few questions, and as she explained that she wanted to run her own panel of tests on me, the words we'd been waiting for finally arrived:

"I think you have labrynthitis."

"Really??" Was I dreaming?

"I've seen it a hundred times. My husband, poor man, has a doctor for a wife, was crawling on the floor one day when I came home. I ran so many tests on him, and he had labrynthitis."

Even she noticed, as others missed, there was some fluid in my ears, and STILL in my sinuses. She explained labrynthitis - that it is a deep inner ear inflammation, caused by a virus. The virus has to run its course; there is no way to treat it. The symptoms I was experiencing caused chronic nausea (which I think may have ended up as an ulcer) and of course cause motion sickness and other things. My allergies end up making things worse. She fixed me up with some drugs for the nausea, motion sickness and inflammation, and sent me on my merry way.

Thank you oh incredibly competent American doctor! You have helped me infinitely more than the round of doctors we saw in Japan! I practically cried as I left, thanking her over and over, practically bowing out of habit. (You would too if you'd gone two months sick at home without a diagnosis).

Of course, travel and lack of sleep put me out with a cold when we got back. Have almost fought it off now though...


On the subject of feeling grateful, I thought I might revisit a few things from 2009 I'm thankful for. Although we completely missed New Year's Eve, (we were somewhere over the Pacific Ocean at the time, although I'm not sure which time...) and I was drugged and out of my mind most of New Year's Day, my New Year spirit hasn't left me yet. So,

A few things I'm grateful for in 2009 (in no particular order aside #1):
1. marrying the most amazing man
2. precious time with loved ones in Washington
3. our "grown-up kids" from youth group days
4. the chance to take a writing workshop
5. rediscovering passions
6. living in Shizuoka
7. moving to Shimada
8. heaters
9. top floor of the apartment building
10. delicious, healthy food
11. money to buy said food
12. a new camera to capture moments
13. a Christmas tree
14. the chance to read others' stories
15. a new laptop, to write with, to transform pictures with, to entertain me for endless hours sitting sick

These hardly mark them all, as there is so much to be grateful for and highlight.

I hope this New Year is a tremendous one for you. Here's to 2010!