A rule-breaking artist & entrepreneur who travels, writes, dapples in design, with her hands, focuses on eco + social good & calls herself a paper passionista.
I’ve been lagging in my blogging. It sucks. It’s unfair. Not only is it unfair to you, my little tribe of awesome readers, but to me. I haven’t been writing period. Yes, I’ve written a few cards to people here and there, but I haven’t really been writing. I’m not even attempting to apologize here. I’m just explaining that while I started out writing with a vengeance, I stopped with a vengeance as well. However, things have a way of changing…
Today, I posted my first non-personal blog in a long time. Since last year, actually. I’ve been meaning (and wanting) to write more for blogs about sustainability and environmental concerns and just haven’t had the time. Or maybe the motivation. Or maybe just both. As much as I’ve enjoyed writing these posts, they require time and I just haven’t had time. I feel like I haven’t had time to sleep, which is odd, but adding one more thing to the list of things to do, just wasn’t fun.
It also doesn’t help that I’ve moved to New Jersey, am living with a friend, don’t have a car yet, and just started a job. I’m a month into the gig and it’s moving. It is nice to be in the working world again and to have money, but honestly, all I can think about is Japan, stationery projects, a guy, and traveling more. At the same time, I am longingly looking at every West Elm catalog that comes contemplating how I am going to decorate (on a budget and with second hand and upcycled items). I’m excited by the prospect of having a corner with a work table that is all stationery. And yet, I still wonder, is this it? It’s funny how life does that to you, isn’t it? But I know I’m on the right path…that I’m where I am supposed to be right now. The signs keep telling me so. So I’ve just got to have a bit of patience and continued faith. Easier said than done with your Sara “impatient” Stroman, but I’ll survive. I am grateful for every day that goes by and for all the opportunities that keep presenting themselves.
And so where does that leave me, well it leaves me wandering in this life that’s mine, but it also means that I am living and active and breathing. It means that while I haven’t been sharing as of late, I am enjoying life.
I’ll be posting a bit more regularly, especially as S2 Stationery and Design takes shape and picks up. I’ve gotten quite a few orders lately and have been busy, busy, busy with all exciting stuff! I’ve designed a graduate school graduation announcement, a stationery set for a teen, I did my first foiled invitation, worked with a couple on a Save the Date announcement, am designing a 21st birthday card for a friend’s daughter, am working on a birth announcement, and have two new ideas for cards in the pipeline to be released this summer, as well as a membership service, and a photography collection. I started painting with water colors and I’m taking a class on making pop-up cards. More on all of this soon!
Two nights ago, I opened my box of goodies from Japan. I hadn’t seen that stuff since I mailed it to myself at my aunt’s house my last day in Echizen. It made me nostalgic and happy and sad at the same time. Happy because I did THAT- I went away, I lived abroad briefly, I picked up some Japanese, I was alone- I experienced it, I lived it after planning it and wanting it so badly. Nostalgic because that time was one of the hardest and trying times (I compare it to just after my Dad passed away four years ago), and I found joy and happiness in every moment. Sad because I can never go back to that same point. But I’m so happy that I’m here, where I am, hiding out in New Jersey.
While I was in Echizen, the woman I stayed with told me that she didn’t like that I said, “I understand now that this is where I am supposed to be.” I’ve since realized that she and I do not have the same life philosophy, hence our not getting along in the end, but means exactly what it says, I’ve no doubt that I am where I am supposed to be, growing pains and all. I’ve just got to be patient. Patient. Patient. After all, that is my word for the year.
And so with that, today, I posted an article about the Hello Etsy Conference I attended last month at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, NY on the Etsy NY Team Blog. It was mind blowing in a good way. As I promised in that blog, I will write more about it here on this blog. It has a lot to do with what I learned while in Japan and I think that’s worth sharing, even if you’re only interested in posts about stationery.
Before signing off, I want to share an article, “Woody Allen, Louis C.K., And The Power Of The Handwritten Note,” I read earlier today that keeps me smiling. It’s about writing and the power of a written note between two well known and comedic artists, Woody Allen + Louis C.K. As I get ready to mail out thank you cards to friends in Japan, America, Africa, and America, I’m excited to know that Woody Allen and Louis C.K. are fellow members of the writers club. Are you? If not, I hope you join, soon! (More on that to come!)
In February 2007, I made my first edition of the Love Mix. I put it together as a gift to female friends of mine who didn’t have boyfriends or husbands or any one to give them chocolates and flowers. I thought that by giving a CD full of songs about love, they’d dance around and feel the magic and power of curated love songs picked just for them. It was a fun project and now, seven Valentine’s Day later, I’m still making them.
The difference between the first year and this year is that the emotion behind them is not just to make these friends (now I send it to a few men as well as women) feel better, it tells the story of love. In most cases it tells the story of my love in my life. There have been years where the mixes are full on poppy and full of light and then there are years where the mixes aren’t. I try to incorporate “world music” as well as American music in every mix, and of course there is always the possibility of more somber indie music over rap and hip hop, but every once in a while a hip hop song makes its way onto the mix. In other words, every mix is crafted with care and with what I hope is a fluidity that shows how fluid and full of care love is and should be.
This year, I mixed the mix while freezing my buns off in Echizen, Japan. As I shared with my friends via email today (I shared the mix as a Spotify Playlist rather than in CD form for the first time), one of the first songs that pieced together the mix was Sheryl Crow’s “Strong Enough.” I’ll never forget my nightly 10 minute walk from the cafe near the center of Echizen village up the small hill to the house I was staying at, but I’ll never forget the night that song came on and I just started balling my eyes out as I connected on such a deep level to the words. That night, began the process of selecting the 20 songs that make up the hour long annual mix of love.
This year’s mix is personal. Extremely personal. It combines emotions I’ve experienced over the past six months: loss, hurt, fragility, strength, love, desire, passion, jealousy, doubt, confusion, forgiveness, persistence, craziness, stupidity, understanding, fear, and courage. Even more importantly, it shares faith. In my last posts, I talked about signs and that element during my trip to Japan. One of the greatest lessons of those signs was faith; the ability to believe no matter what. I’ve always believed in the Universe, coincidence, the power of energy, fate, and even the magic of the “Gods”, but it wasn’t until Japan that I began to understand that they were with me every step of the way, even when I felt the most lost.
The first version of this mix was in fact somber. It included songs like Sinead oConnor’s version of “Nothing Compares to You” and Sarah McLachlan’s “Adia”, but then something switched. It may have been that I only have 80 minutes on a disc, but I started hearing other songs like Bruno Mars’ “Locked Out of Heaven” and I remembered how in those cold nights, I too had a turning point. I went from feeling like things were never going to change, that I was going to be stuck feeling that miserable and lost, to understanding that the powers that be, the Universe, and the spirits known as my dad and grandmother were urging me to think differently, to believe in them and that things do and will turn around.
I’ve said before that I don’t expect people to believe my experience. I do believe that people need to have their own experience to understand such a spiritual enlightenment, even though it is trendy to read and believe experiences like this. I mean, honestly, how many times did people tell me before I left, “Oh, you’re off to have your own “Eat, Pray, Love” journey. Part of me was bothered by this because Ms. Gilbert’s experience was much different than my experience, even if we both learned to believe in the end.
With that belief, I put together a mix that ranges in all emotions, but in the end asks to have faith. Not necessarily a religious faith, but a faith in yourself, in the power of love, and in the power of other people, no matter what happens. A tall order, yes, but one that can be done.
I share all of this because I’ve read a few articles today about taking back Valentine’s Day and turning it into Generosity Day, or as Anne Lamott put it, “Occupy Valentine’s Day” and I agree, even though I’m in the industry that wants you to share love and spread love and spend money via cards, chocolates, and other notions of ridiculous. As I told one friend today, I’d like to believe that seven years ago when I started making these mixes, I started the movement for Generosity Day, or “Occupy Valentine’s Day” when I was making mixes to share with single females so they knew that no matter what, they were loved and thought about and remembered on what could be, and I’m sure is, for many a day of despair and loneliness.
With that said, if you’re interested in hearing the 2013 Love Mix and wanting to be part of it, you can hear it on Spotify. If you have any thoughts, or songs that I should consider for the future, please share them in the comments. I’m always looking for a good love tune! More importantly though, if you do give a listen, I hope you feel inspired by love, regardless of the emotions. Love is fabulous and freeing and amazing. I hope you also feel the love I’m sharing through the openness of this experience. I don’t want your thoughts on my issues, I just want you to feel whatever you feel and maybe be inspired.
Oh, and before I forget, let me share the quote that gives the feel the this year’s Mix, it’s a favorite of mine from Paulo Coelho’s book, “The Alchemist”:
“If what one finds is made of pure matter, it will never spoil. And one can always come back. If what you had found was only a moment of light, like the explosion of a star, you would find nothing on your return.”
I promised a post about signs a week ago and I will need to write one that is more in depth in the future. Today, I want to touch upon the concept of signs over all.
See, my second to last day in Japan, I looked up at the sky as I walked and I thought to myself the following questions:
“I wonder what will happen to all the signs that have found me during this trip?
Will they go away?
Will I look back on them as a memory, realizing that I imaged them all?
Will they appear while I continue my life journey back at home?
Will I get new signs?”
I landed in Los Angeles to one of the best welcomes EVER as well as my first sign that all was okay, a ladybug…
Ladybug luggage tag at LAX baggage claim.
I’m not going to go back into what the ladybug signifies, but I will say that it is my guiding sign that I’m on the right track, or path, or better yet that things will be okay. That luggage tag I caught eye of as I wheeled my luggage cart out to the exit. It was a quick glance, but it stopped me in my tracks and I took a picture.
Back when I was wondering about the state of my signs, after three months of seeing them all over Japan, I ended with the decision to just take them for what they were. Signs letting me know everything would be okay, even if I never saw them again. Even if in five years they just seems like figments of my imagination.
After landing in LA and seeing the bug above, I realized that I was where I was meant to be and that good things were on the horizon. I should note that when I felt this same way about finding the Paper Goddess in Echizen, the woman who hosted me told me she found a problem with me saying that. I’ve since realized that she and I have different life philosophies. I by no means begrudge her for that difference. In fact, I wish her the best in life with her philosophy, but I choose to keep believing in mine. I firmly believe that sometimes you just have a feeling/sense that you are in the right place at the right time. When you feel that you have to accept it and run with it. I felt that way about Echizen and I feel the same way about my signs.
This all comes to play because the signs kept showing themselves in California. Not necessarily in the same way as they had in Japan, although some things did (ladybug), but they did appear. To say I was shocked is an understatement.
Here’s the thing about signs: I believe they appear,without rhyme or reason, when you’re on the right track. When you’re on the wrong track they appear only because you are looking for them. I say this quite confidently because I’ve been in both positions. I’ve both wanted something so badly that I sought it out intentionally and saw signs everywhere, and wanted to be rid of something so badly that I’ve gone so far to ask for guidance from above to forget it, to get over it, and the signs have shown themselves as bright as a neon-lit sign in Times Square.
I’ve always been a big fan of the Universe and our spiritual connections. I am a total horoscope lover and believer. In my youth, I believed that coincidences were every where and a sign of fate (which I still believe in), but now I believe that there are no coincidences. Every thing does happen for a reason. In Japan, I had no choice but to dig deep into that side of me that loves philosophy and has one good existential crisis a year, to understand the world of nature and my deep connection to the signs in the natural world guiding me; the signs that touch into my heart and intuition, aka gut.
I know, it sounds like I’m talking BS again, but I’m serious here. I’m serious only because I questioned whether the signs would guide me post-Japan and I can honestly say that now, 18 days after leaving Japan, where the signs began, they are still following me. Today, as I walked to Starbucks, I noticed one of the signs, a plant, along my way. That plant was along side my car yesterday evening when I parked at the grocery store on an errand. In the grocery store yesterday, as I walked toward the mangoes, I stopped in front of a display that had a ladybug on it.
It is important to mention that I had some thoughts in my mind that were questioning and bordered on insecure. In Japan, I learned that those moments-when doubts, insecurity, and questions prevailed-were the moments when the signs found me and found me strong; quickly correcting my thoughts and reminding me to just keep believing. To remember that all will be well as long as I keep faith and trust in myself. To remember that not everything I think is correct, real, or even true for that matter.
Today, I saw my plant, smiled, laughed, raised a cheeky fist up to the heavens, but only realized later in the day the truth in believing the signs…I received an email from Danielle LaPorte titled “55 inspirational quotes on desire & making it happen” and there in the middle was the following quote by Rumi (another sign within the signs),
“What you seek is seeking you.”
It is hard to explain this to people who don’t believe, or don’t see the magic in every day life. Not only is it hard, it can be exhausting. It’s caused me to ask myself if I’m crazy and yet, constantly my heart and intuition tell me I am not. I know not what the outcome will be, but it’s nice to feel that these signs that have found their way to me from a period of time full of confusion and uncertainty are still with me in a period filled with more peace, happiness, and security than I’ve felt in a long time.
Actually it’s the same feeling I felt back when I had that little dream that launched my stationery company. It’s important to follow the signs. Especially when they come from the heart.
I’ve gotten this question a bit recently. Those that are friends and follow me on Facebook and Instagram, actually read this blog, and got my personal emails updating my journey know that I am back in the US, but haven’t got a clue as to where exactly in the US I am. (I like being a bit of a mystery! Or at least that’s part of my new plan…to being a mystery even to those I love much and hold close to my heart.)
I am homeless, a bit, and so I bumped around from place to place. I landed in Los Angeles and spent a night in the company of one of my dearest friends before taking Amtrak to the Bay Area to stay with another good friend. I stayed outside of San Francisco in a city called Mountain View for seven days. It was nice. Quiet. I stayed in most of the time, but walked daily to a coffee shop about one-and-a-half miles from my friend’s apartment to get out, exercise my legs and enjoy the air. I was also able to see three good friends in the area, one of whom I hadn’t seen since I met her three years ago in Chile!
On January 16th, I took a flight from the San Jose airport and made my way to the East Coast, to Maryland to be exact, where I’ve been staying with my mother. It has been wonderful to put my bags down and leave them down for a large bit of time and space. I carried a lot of baggage with me on this past journey and they were heavy, stressful, and exhausting. Simply carrying a purse and my laptop make me happy these days, instead of those two along with a backpack and suitcase in tow.
Since returning to the East Coast a week ago (so little time and yet, I’ve accomplished much!), I took a weekend to visit New York City and it was pleasant. After being away for three months, it was nice to step back into my home city.Before I left, I had such an intense hatred for NYC that this feeling of comfort and slight sense of security that I experienced was a pleasant surprise.
Walking around New York last weekend was heavenly. Not only did I get to see my best friend, I was able to stay in her apartment just across the street from my old apartment in Manhattan. I spent a large amount of time in Williamsburg, Brooklyn hanging out with my family, and I managed to see my printing company, have an interview with a woman I met during my internship at Etsy last year in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and meet with clients- one at my favorite place “City Bakery” and the other in their home on the Upper West Side which allowed me to peek into another favorite place of mine, “Zabars.” Needless to say, I traveled around, rode the subway, walked a bit, and felt home. While I definitely felt that riding the subway was new, I knew it wasn’t, but that feeling of hating the subway didn’t exist. In fact, it just felt good. Good to ride the subway, good to be back in my element.
I am 85% a changed woman, although, I’ll never get over the serious amount of stupid and selfish people that roam around the world and NYC specifically, but I felt different as I made my way around a City that blindfolded I know by heart. I felt deep in my heart that I belong to that City, but also that I need to be patient about moving around it and moving back to it, no matter how excited I am to get back into the swing of things.
I wasn’t quite sure how this would all play out and I’m still not sure how it will, but I feel like the general pull of my life is to New York. The Universe is showing me signs that I should be heading that way and that I will be heading that way in due time. Which is awesome! At first, I thought that I would end up spending a lot of time in the Maryland area and even considered possible moves to cities like Detroit, maybe even Cleveland (I have a large network there). Of course, my heart isn’t in any of those places, they just offer space, which I want, and in New York, I don’t have space. Either way, I can confidently say that New York is where I will land, and there is even a possibility that I’ll end up in New Jersey. I have been considering it more and more and it seems rather feasible at this point. I can get decent space for myself and my business and be just across the river allowing me to get into NYC just as easily as if I lived in the actual City. But I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. It’s nice to look for options in the interim.
Having said that, as we passed from 2012 into 2013, I took some time to write down goals and objectives for the new year. I didn’t put anything down too specific because it was more of a full-on 10 year plan, and things will change, but I gave myself some time to really consider what it is that I want in my life over all. I admitted things like wanting to get married and have children. These are HUGE for me. HUGE! I also admitted that I want space for my business that is separate from my personal life and even if that means a different room, or a den, I want it, as long as it is affordable. That space should be positioned in a place where I can reach my city and yet leave it so I don’t ever grow to hate it again.
I’m not going to go into the entire list of goals and objectives, but I did get in touch with my real self and she showed herself quite clearly; I’m happy to help lead/follow my true self to where she wants to go in 2013 and beyond. Japan taught me that.
As for where I am now, well, I’m on the cusp of temporary and something-like permanent, with a healthy gallon-size space for flexibility, change (because the only thing that is constant in this life is change), and adventure. My travels will continue (I still have many more paper-making countries to visit) and I may have another stint in Japan for a longer period of time, but I know with every fiber of my being that New York City is calling and I’m getting ready to head back with a full, curious sense of wonder and willing to make sure that my stationery business and myself go out and do what it needs to do to be present, alert, and implement change.
So yeah, that’s where Sara is. Still on that journey, but getting steps closer to a place she wants to be. Huzzah!
Back in the thick of November, in the cold mountains of Echizen, I was dealing with emotional baggage (I know I’ve mentioned the amount of baggage I loaded in my suitcase along with my clothes many times, before.) that I finally started to mull over thanks to a good friend.
I had a moment of spazzing and I reached out to a good friend who wrote me the most candid and honest email I’ve ever received about one of my emotional situations. To say that I was shocked is an understatement. While I definitely believe I needed to hear her words, I was hurt. And so I cried. And I cried. And I talked to another good friend about the email and then something happened; a change inside of me took place.
I went back to the home I was staying in and prepared dinner. As I thought about my reaction and feelings to both of my friend’s words, I listened to the Disney Pocahontas soundtrack and felt a sense of calm that I had yet to feel before. The songs, “Just Around the Riverbend,” “Steady as the Beating Drum,” and “Listen to your Heart Parts 1 and 2″ were the ones that really got to the heart of the matter, but even still the entire soundtrack helped quell my erratic beating heart and brain.
I then wrote back to my friend an email that was direct and sounded like the Sara that has been missing for the past few months. The reason I could write this email was because I decided to go back to “believing” in the root of Sara. To find in my heartbreak and my emotional waves the belief that things will be well and are well and will continue to be well as long as I move in a forward motion and keep believing.
Now, many don’t understand this. Hell, I didn’t understand this. When I left for Istanbul, Turkey, on the afternoon of October 1st, I left with tears in my eyes and a feeling in my gut that said everything is wrong, and all that you thought you knew is over. And yet, I knew I had to get on that plane. I knew it had to happen and so I went. And I met a guy named Mami who called me his American girlfriend and who walked me to the train every night and kissed my hand. He was cute and made me smile and laugh and feel pretty; he restored my faith in mankind even though he wasn’t the man I wanted.
Those first few weeks were the hardest. I was at my lowest point. I needed as much love the Universe was willing to throw my way. And the Universe did throw it my way. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t feel love in myself, nor from the amazing network of friends and family cheering for me on the sidelines, but that love wasn’t what I needed. I needed to feel love, I needed to be taken care of, I needed to wallow and feel everything I was feeling and cry and wake up sobbing and then know that someone, I didn’t know could still make me smile and feel warm inside. It was brutal and yet some of the best tonic.
I am a highly independent person. Always have been. Maybe it’s from the teasing, the racism, being the fat girl in school, etc, but in all of that, I was the Student Council President, I played Field Hockey, I made friends, I learned my value, I learned to love my crazy curly hair and the fact that I’ve always been a bit more than I should in weight, and I’ve always followed my dreams. I knew when I walked onto the campus of The George Washington University that fateful summer day in 1997 that it was where I was going to go (and it was, I graduated in 2o02). I knew I didn’t want to leave my first job, so I accepted their counter offer, but then left a year later. I knew when I moved to NYC and saw my apartment in Astoria that it was the apartment for me. I also felt in my soul that I was supposed to know my one roommate, Dan. I felt the same way when I moved into my apartment in Manhattan after Dan and I moved out of the Astoria apartment. Or one of my favorites, when I dreamt about my business and then had a few signs along the way pointing me to that path. My point is that I’ve always just known in my gut when things work and when they don’t work. I have some examples of when my gut has told me to stay, far, far away. What is more, I have examples of where my gut said, “stay far away” and I went ahead and didn’t listen. Needless to say, I’ve learned from each situation.
On my journey I had no expectations for self-discovery. Okay, wait, that’s a lie. I knew I was going to find out something about myself, but I didn’t expect it would be my inner core. I never once realized in my slow downward spiral last year that I had lost the core of Sara in the mix and that Japan would be the ticket to finding her and rebuilding. I knew that Japan would bring a world of change, I just didn’t know the extent. I also had no idea that I’d be in the position I found myself.
So back to why Japan inspired such findings. Well, what I realized that night as I cooked and sang along to “Listen to Your Heart” was that I had stopped listening to my heart and instead started listening to friends. Don’t get me wrong here, listening to friends was helpful and several friends, I’m not sure I could have done without during that time, but listening to them and asking them for their opinions only weakened my own decisions. I did do things my way, and I did keep things from certain friends because I didn’t want to hear their opinions or thoughts and because at those moments, I knew I was firmly acting with intention and I stood behind them. Well, there was one moment where I still question my action, but whatever, it happened. When I’m sitting in a rocking chair at 80, my best friends and I will laugh about that crazy moment, I’m sure.
See, the night before my Pocahontas listening party, I walked to the house in the rain, crying, and climbed the steps of the Shrine for the Paper Goddess and prayed while sobbing for help, guidance, and peace. I asked her to help me because I was so lost and because I believed that she had brought me to Echizen (I didn’t know Echizen had a Paper Goddess until I arrived–so much for research ahead of time!) and she could help me out of this mess. I thanked her for bringing me to where I was and for all the advances I had made in learning Japanese Washi, but that I needed more of her help. I needed her to help me break through this. I prayed for my father’s spirit watching over me to also help me. I asked for so much help in the cold, dark, rainy night.
What the Goddess gave me, I believe, was hope. That next night, cutting vegetables and signing songs, I realized that I not only had lost who I was, I had lost my inner system of belief. The reason I felt so lost was because I had in fact stop believing. I have asked other people to believe in me and in magic and yet, I was not believing myself. When you have no belief, you have nothing. In that moment, or rather the span of an hour, I felt in my core that it was time to believe again, to figure out what I want in life, what I wanted to feel, understand why I was feeling what I was feeling, and then believe. The next morning, I woke up feeling lighter than I had felt in a long time.
It does help that when visiting Japan, you end up visiting tons of Buddhist Temples and Shinto Shrines making it easy to pray and practice believing, but as I went from Shrine and Temple to Shrine and Temple, I started to believe. However, it wasn’t just the Temples and Shrines, no, it was the signs along the way. I’ll post more about signs at a later date because the signs were aplenty and there every step of the way, and always appeared when I began to doubt my belief, but again more on that later.
That one decision. That one action to believe changed the course of my path. Or rather, made the path a bit more clear. I’m not sure how the path will continue and if what all I want will be what I get, but I know that I have to keep believing. If I stop believing, then I stop being because so much of my life has been on belief. Belief in my instincts, my often irrational passions, and more importantly, belief that in all of my craziness, I am living and breathing and changing the world.
This all reminded me of a guy I vaguely know through my cousin. He’s a good friend of hers and comes from a past full of darkness. You can tell of his struggles and inner pain because he carries them on his body and face. He’s a nice guy, but if you saw him on the street, you might think differently; you might almost consider crossing the street to avoid him. On my last night in Brooklyn before leaving for my trip, he was at my cousin’s apartment. As we parted ways, I turned to him and said, “I believe in you. You are loved, don’t doubt it, just know that no matter what, you are loved and people believe in you.” I went on to tell him that I had just gotten in from a farewell party where friends from different parts in my life appeared, including one that came in all the way from Chicago (that’s far!) to send me off. Needless to say, I was (and am) surrounded by love and support and I know how easy it is to believe when you’re surrounded by that, when you know that you are limitless because you have those two things. Some people may never have many people that support and love them, but just knowing that they have one person can be, and sometimes is, enough.
I bring all of this up again today because I’ve felt two things about my experiences and my beliefs: 1. that I shouldn’t share them for fear that nobody will understand, or because they will attempt to tell me that my beliefs are in my head; and 2. because thanks to the internet there is so much floating around already of other people’s experiences that they become these random quotes and beliefs that people take for true meaning rather than just a personal experience.
As you can see, I am sharing bits of this story and my beliefs with the world at large, but that’s because I’ve decided to stop actively caring about whether someone believes me or doesn’t believe me. As I explained to a friend the other day, I know what I know, or rather what I chose to believe in and that’s really all that matters. It does help that I’ve had a few people also tell me that they believe in my belief as well, which is always nice to hear, and definitely stopped me from asking myself, “are you freaking crazy?” (which the answer is yes) on several occasions, but as I learned that night of vegetables and Pocahontas, to stop believing is to discredit and question myself.
Now please let me explain one more thing there. My belief is simply that all will be well. Or in that famous quote by Julian of Norwich, “All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.” By the way, I purchased a card from an Etsy seller many months ago, just before the end of my internship, and the seller sent me a handful of freebies with my order that included a card with that quote.
Card by Colette on Etsy
Not really thinking about the card, I packed it as a bookmark in one of the books I took with me on my trip. And in moments where I found myself thinking too much, questioning my belief (before the signs started appearing), I grabbed this postcard and repeated the quote. At the end of the day, belief allows us to believe exactly what this quote says, “All shall be well…” which oddly enough is what a good friend said to me in an email about my situation. She wrote, “Sara, things will work out for all of us.”
It is so easy in our current socially “connected” world to listen to others, to push down our own instinct so far that we lose touch with what matters and what is important, and to stop believing, or rather to believe in the things that don’t really matter, that don’t help us in any way shape or form. I gave into this back in August and even before then, but it wasn’t until November that a provoking email from a friend and the cold mountains and running brooks of water in Echizen provided me with the blanket of solace and the strength I needed to really tackle the real loss of it all, myself.
I’m not here to tell you to stop being socially connected, to stop asking for advice from friends and family, or to start praying and believing. We all reach certain conclusions as we face issues and challenges and they bring us not just to our knees, but to what we need. I am telling you that you need to start taking yourself more seriously. You know more about yourself than anyone else. You know exactly what you need and want better than any marketing researcher, or advertiser. You know what your soul and heart are telling you, you just have to listen.
You are more than what you project to the world. What you project to the world should be what you are deep down inside. Your actions, thoughts, and feelings should be a result of what’s truly inside of you. Some will disagree with me on this and say they should be more controlled, but as a recovering control addict, I don’t believe you should push down anything for the sake of others. I believe you should always be you and stand by you. I always stand by everything I do and put out here (and there) whether it is agreed or not.
One of the hardest jobs we have in this world now is listening to ourselves and our beliefs and our heart. We often times become cynical and close our hearts because of past experiences, but that’s not going to fix anything. It took me getting away from everything I know and love to finding it, to regaining my heart and my beliefs and now, I’m not going to give them up for anything, nor am I going to allow anyone to tell me that this was all in my head. It isn’t and it never was. This belief is as logical anything that seems just as real to another person. More importantly, this belief in my heart is my North star guiding me forward.
Or as I told my good friend last night, believing is having faith in an unknown. It’s a risk. One that many are afraid to take. But you know what? I took a huge risk in going to Japan to study papermaking and it seems to have paid off in more ways than I knew. I owe it to myself to keep taking risks and to keep believing things will work out and be well regardless of the outcome.
Thanks Grandmother Willow, Paper Goddess, Universe, and a few other spirits who have been along this journey. I believe.
I have been back in the good old United States of America for a week now. Last Monday was an oddity because I spent a full day in Tokyo and then arrived that same day with 11 hours to spare before the end of the day in California. I essentially experienced the future and then came back to the present. I’m not sure how else to explain that. Either way, it was a long day, one that was exhausting, but leaving one side of the world with good friends, for another side of the world to be welcomed by good friends, is quite a way to time travel.
I’m not sure where to even begin in this posting. It’s odd to think that three months worth of travel is over, that whatever I experienced I won’t experience again. Or rather, that the next time I visit Japan, it will be on a completely different mission and the experience will be absolutely different. Next time, I won’t be so shocked by the cold or my inability to read (heck, I may even be able to read something! That’s a goal.), or the exchange rate.
Just before I left for Narita airport last Monday, I ate lunch, rechecked my bags to make sure I was comfortable with how I packed them and then walked down to the Meiji Shrine for one last prayer. I had already visited that shrine on New Year’s Day with thousands of others to pray for a happy and healthy New Year, but still, six days later, I walked back for one last prayer and to thank the Gods for letting me have the experience I had.
When visiting the Meiji Shrine, you walk for a good five minutes through a dense forest of tall tress. Upon entering the inner sanctum of the Shrine, you wash your hands to be clean for prayer and then enter the Shrine itself. The area surrounding the Shrine is absolutely beautiful. You can smell clean air and all of the tension and negative feelings that one might be carrying with them seems to suddenly evaporate as you walk along the pebbled path to the gates of the Shrine.
During my first stay in Tokyo, my gracious host, took me to the Meiji Shrine and opened me up to the world of Shintoism and the Japanese way of believing. I learned only at my last visit to the Meiji Shrine the value of it, thanks to a leaflet I grabbed on my way out:
Meiji Jingu is a Shinto shrine. Shinto is called Japan’s ancient original religion, and it is deeply rooted in the way of Japanese life. Shinto has no founder, no holy book, and not even the concept of religious conversion, but Shinto values for example harmony with nature and virtues such as “Magokoro (sincere heart)”. In Shinto, some divinity is found as Kami (divine spirit), or it may be said that there is an unlimited number of Kami. You can see Kami in mythology, in nature, and in human beings. From ancient times, Japanese people have felt awe and gratitude towards such Kami and dedicated shrines to many of them.
My entire time spent in Japan was deeply rooted in a connection to Nature. It explains why I found a Native American themed coffee shop named Pueblo in Mikuni, Japan on Thanksgiving. It explains why I saw the painted Native American wall in Shimo Kitazawa (see below). It explains why I was surrounded by the mountains in a small town named Echizen. It explains why I cried when I heard Aki-san sing the songs to the Goddess my first week in Echizen. It explains why I spent so much time in the mountains while traveling around Japan. It explains the finding of the bunny symbol in my first full month in Japan. It explains my deep connection and love for the paper making process that I learned in Echizen. It explains why I enjoyed listening to the flow of water and the rain and wind and thunder on certain storm nights.
I’ve shared before that in my youth I wanted to live with Native Americans. Of course my idea was more romantic. I wanted to hunt buffalo and wear moccasins and do rain dances. I wanted to sing to the spirits around fires and learn from the oldest members of the council. I learned as I grew up that I might never have that experience because the lives of many Native American Tribes are much different. Not to mention their youth are moving from these traditions to more Western lifestyles.
Oddly enough though, my days spent in the countryside of Japan made me feel like I was almost living my Native American dream. Being surrounded by people who deeply practice Shintoism and rely on nature for their livelihoods struck my soul hard. It was during these days that I learned about prayer and about my deepest self. I’m not just talking spiritual BS here, I’m talking true self-discovery. It was important for me to learn so that I could shape and grow my business in this new year, but it was also important so that I could guide myself in the various shades of light and darkness in life.
My first week since Japan has found me in both Southern and Northern California. I’ve stayed with two good friends and have been surrounded by various degrees of nature. Along the train ride to San Jose from Los Angeles, I was able to see part of the Coast and then into the farms and red rock/mountainous areas of the state. On Saturday, I was able to walk on Baker’s Beach and then did a small hike with another good friend to a point where we were able to view the Golden Gate Bridge. It was breathtaking! On the walk on the beach, a woman and I were able to throw a baby shark (not sure what kind) back into the water (I hope he survived!). During the weekdays, I’ve taken walks, mostly to various stores around my friend’s apartment, but I’ve noticed lush and gorgeous plants and flowers along the way and of course, the beautiful skies and changes in temperatures as well. Although, these are not quite the same as what I experienced in Japan, I know that they are a small way to extend what was a big and necessary need during my trip.
How all of this will change in the coming days and weeks, I’m not sure. There’s a lot to be figured out, but I know that I’m focusing on my business (yay!), my relationship with my Mom and grandfather, and in continuing finding my own sense of peace. I hope to get back to NYC in the late Spring/early Summer of this year, but know that a lot hinges on these first days and weeks back on the East Coast (I arrive Wednesday night).
Back to the Meiji Shrine last week…When I offered my five yen coin into the well at the Shrine last Monday, I prayed for similar things I had prayed for throughout the trip…peace, happiness, success and growth as an entrepreneur and a business owner, continued faith, for some special people in my life, and for all that I had learned. I thanked the Meiji Shrine for being a huge part of my journey, and for my time in Japan which was relatively painless, the people I met, and every moment that caused me to smile, reflect, and appreciate life.
My trip doesn’t quite seem like a dream at this point because I am committed to remembering the lessons I learned during the trip, but it does almost seem like it never happened. I’m torn between missing Japan and not missing it at all. Maybe I don’t miss it because I know that I’ll return again? I don’t think that Japan was ever meant to be a one-trip wonder. I feel it was meant to be a deep, strengthening connection and because of it, I look forward to my next trip.
So I suppose that “sayonara” is the wrong word to use in saying goodbye. Sayonara implies a long goodbye. Instead, I should use Dewa mata, which is a formal, but informal way of saying “see you later.” So Dewa mata, Japan. Thank you for my first, wonderful experience in Japan. I can’t wait to see what comes next!
I’m going to do my very best to not be so negative in this post, but I can not make any promises. Here goes.
Yesterday morning I had to contact my bank, Bank of America, regarding a check that cleared. It took me about 10 minutes to get through to a live customer service agent and that was after, repeatedly yelling at the automated voice for “Customer Service.”
Now, maybe I shouldn’t have yelled at the robotic voice command automated service voice, but the fact remains that if I call and want to speak to a real live person, I should be able to without jumping through hoops, being asked to put my social security number, bank account number, date of birth, mother’s madin name, telephone access code, or any other detail they think is important. They should just patch me through to an actual person who I will gladly verify my information to and proceed with the phone call. Instead, I got, “I’m sorry, but your telephone access code is incorrect, please input your telephone access code, now.” WRONG answer!
After about eight minutes, I got through to someone, but it was not without repeatedly saying, “Customer Service” until the robotic voice finally got that I wasn’t putting in any information. Now, maybe it was wrong of me to do this, maybe it would have been easier if I just hung on to my patience and grabbed my purse and check book and put in my account information, but I didn’t and I don’t feel bad.
See, this is where big companies fail. They fail when it comes to good, real customer service. If a customer calls, they should not have to jump through hoops to talk to someone about whatever the service/product being offered. When I call my bank, I am calling because something has happened, something of extreme importance and I want to talk to someone immediately. I already know what my account information is because I logged in online, I don’t need it reiterated on the phone before being able to discuss the matter with a person.
I have often heard people on the internet discuss methods of communication. They talk about listing how you want to be contacted clearly so that you don’t end up overwhelmed by phone or email. I agree with them to a degree. Yes, you want to make sure that you are carving out time to get work done and not spending hours responding to emails and phone calls, but you also need to make sure that you are available to your customers and potential customers. You can choose when to return a call, or to take one immediately, but running a business the way many big businesses do is how you lose a customer. I’ve made this mistake before; I’ve not returned phone calls, or have forgotten about phone calls to make and guess what? I’ve lost those sales. Not to mention, I’ve potentially lost those customers for ever and ever. Which sucks and with each failed or forgotten phone call, I’ve made a note to make more notes and respond quickly, not to create high expectations, but to deliver better service. At the end of the day, when a customer, or even myself, forks over any amount of money (unless it’s cheap disposable clothing at H&M or Zara), I want to know that I’m getting the best experience and service possible. While I don’t expect immediate service, I do expect reasonable and high quality service and that includes my bank that charges for every little service, pays on goods when they shouldn’t and then charges you for that service, and doesn’t allow you to speak with a customer service representative without sacrificing your newborn child and your teeth.
Experiencing what I experienced is the same as receiving poor care in-person in a store. It is enough for me to write this post and to take action against big banks and big businesses. I don’t need to tell you any more details about the situation, but after dealing with the automated service and a customer service representative who was helpful, but not too helpful, I decided I won’t be banking with Bank of America anymore. When I get back to the east coast after this trip, I will be changing banks to a smaller credit union and adopting a “cash only” policy (thanks Japan!) to avoid having to deal with situations like this in the future.
I also highly encourage people in America to consider who you bank with and whether you want them to have as much power as they currently do. There are certain practices that I find troublesome in our banking industry and I find it a bit unnerving that so many people have yet to consider the idea of shutting down big banks. It’s also amazing that one bad moment with an automated service could cause me to question better business practices and what I want from the businesses I engage with on a regular basis.
If you have any experiences or stories you want to share about automated services and poor customer service please leave them below. As a small business owner and entrepreneur, I’ve always cared about customer service. I think it’s time we start addressing this issue, not just because of money, but because of it’s impact on business and culture on a large scale.
Today, December 30, 2012, marks my 91st day of travel. It’s hard for me to believe that I’ve been gone for this long and yet in that time, it’s been fast, slow, scary, new, old, exhausting, loving, nurturing, silent, full of love, full of doubt, strong, powerful, enlightening, thoughtful, and challenging. I don’t know that any other 90 day period in my life has been like this, nor will ever again.
On October 1, 2012, I left on an Aeroflot plane to Istanbul. I landed for a short layover in Moscow (a city I’ve always wanted to visit) and then continued on to Istanbul, Turkey a city I’ve always felt in my heart I needed to see with my own eyes. I’ve shared quite a bit about my journey on this blog, but not as much as I originally planned. It’s hard to convey everything I’ve experienced. I honestly don’t think I have the words, but I hope to share more once the trip ends and I’m back in America figuring out the next steps of my personal journey. I think more will come after the traveling has ended because I will have digested large chunks that I’m still chewing. I also think writing will come more easily when attempting to write, all the while thinking about what all I’m missing in my time final days in Tokyo. Having said that, I do want to share my recent trip to the Mt. Fuji area outside of Tokyo…
I had originally planned to visit this great Mountain on Christmas Day. Having spent Thanksgiving, and my birthday alone, but in nature, I decided that Christmas should be no different. Christmas Eve, I spent with an amazing couple I met recently, who invited me over for dinner in the afternoon before midnight Mass at the local Catholic Church here in Tokyo.
Christmas Day morning came and went. I overslept. The day after Christmas Day came and went as well. I overslept, but I also only wanted to sit inside and watch Christmas movies and be quiet. So I did.
And then came Thursday. On the eve of Thursday, I went out and grabbed some sushi for dinner and a beverage from Starbucks. I decided walking was probably good for my body after a day of just padding around the apartment mixed with some minor dancing and mostly sitting on the couch. Before I went to bed though, I got the coffee pot ready. I picked out my outfit for Thursday and I set my alarm for 4:15am. If I didn’t oversleep, then all signs pointed to visiting Mt. Fuji.
Even though I had set up my morning, I knew that my trip to Mt. Fuji would be a result of waking up feeling the urge to get up at an unGodly hour and get dressed, fed, and out the door to catch the first of three trains at 5:55am. Thursday morning was that day. I could have easily slept until eight or nine am, but instead I jolted up out of bed and was out of the apartment by 5:19 and that included eating, packing coffee and water, dressing in 20 layers, and then walking to the Shinjuku train station in the dark and figuring out the train system. (Every day that I get on the JR or the subway is an adventure in learning something new.)
I felt tired as I journeyed on, but I was filled with excitement. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen mountains, and quite honestly been so close to mountains. I’d say that my visit to Koya-san and Nara were my last full on mountain visits at the beginning of the month. After spending 45 days in the mountains surrounding Echizen, I needed this trip. I needed mountain air, brooks of water, and the sounds and sights that come with nature that close. A prime example is the 10-15 minutes I spent watching three birds fly around and do what I call their wild dance at Lake Kawaguchi.
My day was over all exhausting. I was gone for 14+ hours I think. I slept so much on Friday that I never got out of my pajamas! It was glorious and yet, I still feel exhausted. See, being in nature, I’ve learned has the ability to both enliven me and exhaust me. I tend to think so well out there, but also end up tired from all the thinking and walking that I inevitably do. My time around Mt. Fuji was no different. As soon as I caught sight of Mt. Fuji, it was love. I was determined to capture as much of her as I could and spend as much time exploring around her as possible.
Mt. Fuji has two months of climbing season. The rest of the time the mountain is too volatile to climb. I learned on Thursday that her idea of cold is in fact COLD and I would not have survived an attempted climb. When I got off the train, my feet were freezing and that was with two pairs of socks on, one pair an extremely thick pair of LL Bean hiking socks. I don’t recommend you even think you can hike this beast outside of July and August.
Since I couldn’t hike the mountain, I instead walked around Lake Kawaguchi which is gorgeous in it’s own way. I took the cable car up a smaller mountain across from the lake and had my first level view of the great Mt. Fuji, which only increased the love.
I hiked a bit around the mountain I was on, prayed to the spirits at the shrines at various points there and then went down to continue my day exploring Fuji-Yoshida, which is the same as Fuji-san, or the town that has the longest history with the Mountain.
Legend has it that Mt. Fuji and the Goddess of Fire, Konohana Sakuya Hime, protect the town from Mt. Fuji’s eruptions. Here is a bit of the mythology behind Konohana Sakuya Hime and Mt. Fuji:
The fire ceremony [marking the end of the mountain climbing season on August 26] has its origins in the earliest known myth about Konohana Sakuya Hime, the principal goddess of Mount Fuji. According to the ‘Kojiki’, the great 8th-century AD compilation of Japanese mythology, she married a god who grew suspicious of her when she became pregnant shortly after their wedding. To prove her fidelity to her husband, she entered a benign bower [in the volcano] and miraculously gave birth to a son, unscathed by the surrounding flames. The [fire] ceremony at Fuji-Yoshida recalls this story as a means of protecting the town from fire and promoting easy childbirth among women.
As a fire sign in western astrology, I could not help but being drawn to this particular Kami (God) and her symbol of the mountain. Mountains are powerful in structure and strength. Their volcanic bases are terrifying and yet provide a sense of renewal. Their ability to tower, strong and assured are proof that nature understands more than we mere humans ever will. (I know, again with the spirituality!) I’m not sure what I was hoping to gain from this visit, but I knew that not visiting Mt. Fuji would have been a regret. This entire trip has been about a spiritual awakening, one so strong, it has brought me back to the core of who I am and learning about the mountain helped me understand it more.
This year alone, I’ve managed to carve out time to visit a few mountains. I went to Bear Mountain Park just north of New York City during the spring for some time away. In July while visiting Portland, I drove out to Mt. Hood to see some of the beauty of North West America. I should mention that I loved Mt. Hood. She’s a beauty as well. For 45 days, I was surrounded by the mountains of Echizen that taught me about extreme cold, rain, and patience. In Osaka, I visited the mountain that houses Koya-san, an important Buddhist Monastery town (and World Heritage Site) on my birthday. All of these experiences taught me new found respect for nature and the beauty around us, but it wasn’t until I laid eyes on Mt. Fuji that I truly understood the power of a mountain.
Mt. Fuji called to me on Thursday and so I went to her. Toward the end of my trip, I followed signs leading toward the base of the beginning of the trail path, Yoshida Climbing Route, and the Fuji Sengen Jinja, where pilgrims who trekked up the mountain for spiritual connection to the Gods would pray beforehand. While I could not climb the mountain, I was able to pray to the Goddess of Fire and thank her for this amazing opportunity to see her glory. It was also at that point that I decided that my youngest brother and possibly my nephew, and I have to climb this mountain together. My youngest brother wants to study in Japan at some point and when he gets to Japan, I intend to meet him and climb Mt. Fuji with him and not from any of the various stations that you can start from, but from the beginning, from Yoshida Climbing Route.
Mt. Fuji has become a huge tourist destination. Even I ventured to her as a tourist. However, I learned thanks to following the signs detailing the past of the town of Fuji-Yoshida that over 200 years ago religious pilgrims were the only ones who trekked up the mountain. At the time there were houses known as Oshi, where pilgrims could stay, eat, and pray on their way to the mountain. I was able to take a tour in Japanese and English (how I understood most of this I don’t know because it was more Japanese than English) and see the oldest Oshi that has become a museum and tells the story of these religious pilgrims. As I walked further along the road, I saw a few more of these Oshi thanks to the signs noting them along the way and then found myself at the gate and entrance to Fuji Sengen Jinja. After praying and making my promise to return and climb her, I breathed in the calm and peace of Mt. Fuji and begun the three hour trip back into Tokyo.
I know that I have been given a special experience here. I know that to many my trip may seem like an extended vacation, a way of running away from my responsibilities, or even like something a rich girl would be able to do, but none of these are the case. Japan has been calling to me for quite a few years now. The connection to my passion for paper was the deciding force behind this trip, but after seeing Mt. Fuji, I can honestly say that Mt. Fuji was also calling me toward Japan. Every mountain I’ve taken in has led me to her and I have no doubt that in doing so, I’ve learned more of my own strength.
I can’t wait for my next experience with Mt. Fuji. I hope I’m even stronger when the times comes, but more importantly, I know from this visit I’m strong enough to venture in 2013. AMEN!
Holiday Greetings from Tokyo, Japan on the afternoon of the day after Christmas Day!
Today is Wednesday, the day after Christmas Day. I sit in my friend’s apartment where I’ve been staying since earlier this month, catching up on Christmas movies that I didn’t watch yesterday or on Christmas Eve. Those movies specifically were “Home Alone” and “Elf,” two of my favorite Holiday films of all time. I realized as I watched both of them back-to-back that my reason for loving them is because they tell the story of “belief.” The idea that belief can create what you want by staunchly believing in who you are, which is formed in your youth (not your adulthood) is an idea scoffed at by many. We all believe that as we get older, we get wiser and better. And I agree with this idea completely. I mean, I am someone who has enjoyed the wisdom and advantages of age, but there is at least one instance a day where I regress to my youth. Where I dance on trains and street corners (I used to dress up in a tutu as a child and dance to Madonna songs in our living room), or I lay on the floor and doodle, or I find something worth giggling about. I try to have these moments when I feel myself caught up in anger or anxiety. In fact, I look for ways to find that magic of belief that every child has and is most prevalent on Christmas Day.
This morning after waking up and missing the train to Mt. Fuji again, I decided to sleep in and then watch two Christmas movies. Two days ago on Christmas Eve, I spent the afternoon relaxing and getting ready and buying myself a present (it’s so purty!) and then I dashed off to meet up with a new friend who invited me to her house to have dinner with her and her husband on Christmas Eve so I wouldn’t be alone. We had a great time, talking, swapping book and music recommendations, and watching Australian and American comedy skits on Youtube. (I’ll be attending a New Year’s party at their house on January 1st that I’m super excited about!) After I left their home, I went to the 10:30pm (aka Midnight Mass) at the local Catholic Church in Tokyo, St. Ignatius.
The Mass was incredibly quick it seemed, but it brought me to tears. Maybe because I’ve spent the past two months praying to every deity possible? I don’t know. What I do know is that for the first time since leaving NYC, I felt the pull and the true meaning of Christmas.
See, Christmas pasts have always been a fun and stressful period for me. They’ve been fun because I can decorate and buy presents, but last year for the first time, I felt rather blah about the holiday. I’ve felt shopping is too painful and daunting. I’ve felt a bit like Charlie Brown- knowing the meaning of Christmas, but not feeling the meaning in the greater world. In an attempt to find happiness and joy again, I’ve given more to charity and to my 10-year-old nephew. This year because I’m away, the idea of giving presents wasn’t an option. I would have had to mail them and lets be honest mailing boxes to the US from Japan is expensive (I shipped a box before I left Echizen with some books and paper, tons of paper and it cost me about $100.), not to mention, I didn’t know what to get them. I mean do they really need anything from Japan?
For me it was more important to connect with loved ones and new friends rather than focus on gifts. Christmas Eve night here, and Christmas Eve morning in the US, I spoke to my cousin for an hour, I think. While we talked about Christmas and presents for her children, we talked a lot about my spiritual journey here in Tokyo. We talked about how I may not feel in the Christmas spirit, I have connected spiritually in other ways. Which I think is why I cried that night at Christmas Mass because all the spiritual connections led me to the door of the greatest belief in all, that Jesus was born to redeem us.
Yesterday, Christmas Day, I stayed mostly inside and talked to another cousin in New York for a few hours thanks to Google hangouts until I went to dinner at an Ethiopian Restaurant that was recommended to me by my old boss. This was my second time eating there not only because the food is delicious, but because the owners are amazing. I sat down for dinner at around 7pm and didn’t leave until 11:45 to catch the trains before they stopped running. My evening involved Christmas carols, whiskey on the rocks, and a lengthy conversation about the Black Movement, Africa, Ethiopia, America, gun control, violence, crazy people, race relations, injustice, money, the Japanese culture, papermaking, mixed-race people, my family, his family, music, how he knows our mutual friend, New York City, city living, driving cars, and traveling. It was the perfect way to spend a holiday that isn’t cared about in Japan.
Christmas in Japan is a commercial holiday. The stores are all decked out with trees and lights. Tokyo and many other large Cities in Japan decorate like crazy-large light displays. People rush all around shopping and the stores are crowded beyond capacity. And yet, it all means nothing. The night of Christmas Eve couples go out for a romantic dinner together. Christmas Day is a work day. The day after Christmas, today, everything is gone..the lights, the trees giving way to sales and New Year decorations. In Asia, there is more of a care for the New Year. On New Year’s Day, I will make my way to the Shinto Shrine close to my friend’s apartment and pray for good blessings for the new year.
I don’t want to get too spiritual here (even though, I am), but today as I watched these movies and sat in a state of continued uncertainty and wonder about a situation while trying to pushing down my impatience and need to fix things, I was enlightened.
See, I remember when Home Alone came out in 1990. My aunt and her boyfriend, now husband, took my brother and I to see the movie and we loved it. In all the years that I’ve watched the movie, I’ve always laughed at the antics and felt warm and fuzzy at the message of love and family. However, it wasn’t until today that I watched it and really listened to the dialogue and I felt like there was a reason that I picked the movie and watched it today. The scene toward the end, where Kevin and Old Man Marley talk about family relationships and they have the following exchange:
“Kevin: If you miss him, why don’t you call him?
Old Man Marley: I’m afraid if I call him he won’t talk to me.
K:How do you know?
OMM:I don’t know, I’m just afraid he won’t.
K:No offense, but aren’t you a little old to be afraid?
OMM:You can be a little old for a lot of things, but you’re never too old to be afraid… (Talk about Kevin’s fear of the basement)
K:…my point is, you should call your son.
OMM:What if he won’t talk to me?
K:Least you’ll know, then you can stop worrying about it and you won’t have to be afraid anymore…”
I needed those words now more than ever. But more importantly, the simplicity of the message got me. The idea that a child, whom no one ever believes could be wise is wise enough to help set the course of action for an older and wiser man ground me to the core.
The same is true of “Elf.” Again, I remember seeing “Elf” like it was yesterday. I was living in Virgina then and my aunt and her husband (the same ones who took me to see “Home Alone” 13 years prior) asked me to watch their son, my cousin, over the weekend. I, along with one of my best friends, took him to see “Elf” and we loved it. I own the movie and make it a habit to watch it during the Christmas season, especially when I’m stressed out -usually as I write out Christmas cards at the last minute.
The film just has a way of making me feel warm and fuzzy. Today as I watched it, I laughed loudly, exclaimed that Will Ferrell is a nut, spoke along to the lines I could remember and at the end, sang along to “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” It should not be a surprise that I cried at the end while singing along to the song. Why did I cry? Because of the message of belief. Obviously!
What I love about “Elf” is that you have this strange guy, with child-like abandonment, walking around NYC in tights, believing that he’s an elf and manages to save the holiday from what it has become…an over-commercialized and cynical day. While many laugh and try to change him, his own father included, he manages to remain strong and keep believing in what he knows, all the while being one of the most open and caring individuals around.
What’s more though is that in both films, you have the idea that with a lot of belief, a dash of child-like simplicity, the ability to love, and a strong will to accept who you are, you can and will change things…examples include:
you can will your family to disappear and then reappear;
you can get over your fears and move beyond them;
when you begin to see your wrong doings and start to forgive you can move beyond issues;
saying sorry can fix many broken things including hurt feelings;
love makes things possible and better;
being true to your different and quirky self will lead you to the right path;
Santa Claus (the idea of good will and openness) does believe, if you believe.
You can inspire others to believe as long as you believe and keep believing
Miracles are possible.
Today, as I celebrated what was the remaining hours of Christmas Day on the East Coast of America, I watched these movies, made plans for the upcoming weekend and sat around in my favorite Christmas pants (candy cane red and white stripes) while in essence being a child. I delighted in my bowl of Chocolate Rice Krispies cereal for breakfast and in the messages I learned from watching these films. They all brought me back to the one reoccurring theme of my travels these past two-and-a-half-months- signs are everywhere – but not because you’re looking for them. In fact, I believe that if you are looking for signs, they won’t appear, but if you’re moving forward, even with a heavy heart and a sense of uncertainty, the signs will find you and show themselves accordingly.
I believe that I had to spend Christmas alone this year to truly understand and appreciate not just myself being alone, but the spiritual factor of the holiday. I also believe that I had to watch these movies today, after the Christmas festivities to remember to stay strong, feel the magic, believe in who I am and in the road I’ve traveled. Things are only going to get better, even if something is missing and I’m uncertain; as long as I keep believing in the stars and spirits above and the heart inside my chest, things will be better.
That faith and belief will allow me to keep providing the best gifts I can to the ones I love the most, and even those who I have yet to meet, know, and love. Further proof of that can be seen (below) in the electronic Holiday/Christmas card I sent out to my friends, family, and fans of my stationery company last week.
The Official 2012 S2 Stationery and Design Christmas Card
In the picture is me and my “papermaking family” from Echizen on my last day at the Museum where I studied. It is one of my favorite pictures and I think captures my joy and love for the people who kindly opened their hearts to me for 45 days this fall.
It takes a lot of self-belief to step out into the world where you don’t know anyone, or speak a certain language and tackle a challenging task. It’s like being left Home Alone, or realizing you’re not an Elf, but a human in a world that lacks imagination and is cruel to those who are different. Yet, still stepping out and having that belief can move mountains and change the status quo and is worth every minute.
That’s my Christmas lesson this year. It is what I’m most appreciative for this year that is coming to a close. Merry day after Christmas! I hope your day was filled with love, kindness, and all the warm, squishy, great stuff.
I left Echizen for Osaka last Friday morning for the second part of my journey in Japan. It was early and cold. The moon was still out as the steam rose from the mountains. It was eerie, yet gorgeous. I walked across to the Goddess to pray and thank her before heading out into the eerie morning and catch the bus for the next adventure. It was the perfect way to say goodbye to a town that had become such a huge part of my life during the 45 days I spent there.
Originally, I was supposed to stay in Echizen until after the New Year, but that changed. I am being flexible here. I came here with a goal to learn paper making and to be in Japan. At this point, I’ve learned paper making, not completely, but after 45 days, I’ve learned quite a bit. I’ve received quite a full education. I could spend days and months and plenty of more time here, and I intend to come back and visit and learn more in the coming years, but as I discovered on my last day, the last 45 days have stuck. Thursday, November 29th was the happiest day of my 45 days, because not only did I make a sheet of paper perfectly, but I laid it down and set up for the next sheet without a single misstep. That was a sign that leaving ahead of schedule was in fact a good thing. I knew it instinctively that leaving was the right thing to do, but having confirmation helped.
Below is what I wrote as an update for the program I studied under in Echizen. I’m not sure that the update will ever be shared (due to the nature of my parting with the coordinator), and I added bits to this one (versus the original) to share more and since these are my words, I can share them as I please. This is how I sum up my 45 days and share it with you. There is so much I can say, but at the same time can not; this was not just an education of a skill, but a deeply personal education for me. It was such a beautiful experience, and definitely a challenging one, but I think it speaks of my character and my persistence and my perseverance. Anyhow, read…
To say that being in Echizen was easy would be false. Not because of anything culture related. In fact, I’d say that this little village of talented artisans took me in like the warm hug I needed. I say this because of my own state of mind.
When I left New York City to begin my papermaking adventure and pursue my dream, I left with a bit of a battered and war torn heart. Almost three years of history boarded that Aeroflot plane with me as we crossed the Atlantic Ocean for Moscow, Russia and then Istanbul, Turkey. After eight days in Istanbul, where I was looking for design inspiration of the sharpest kind, I boarded another Aeroflot plane this time headed to Tokyo, Japan. That history was still with me and as I learned it was eating at me more than I thought it would and Japan, Echizen, Fukui Prefecture, to be exact, would be the place it would play out.
I mention the emotional part only because Echizen is the perfect place to have an emotional struggle. It is beautiful. It is cold. It is quiet. The main part of the Echizen Village (made up of The Paper and Culture Museum, Udatsu Paper and Craft Museum, and the Papyrus House) where the history of Washi is shared closes by 5pm and the only café in the village closes at 7pm. After 7pm, you are on your own with your thoughts, creativity, and anything else you choose to occupy your time.
Echizen is by no means a small hole-in-the-wall village though, nor a great place for a recluse. Surrounding it is Sabae, Takefu (accessible by bus and bike and cab), and Echizen City. There is a knife village and lacquerware village about 7km away from Echizen and there are restaurants, grocery stores, and many other cafes, like a bread shop that I just discovered two days before leaving, and another cafe that serves dinner and is open beyond 7pm just next door to Udatsu. Add to the mix some of the most amazing people I have ever met while traveling Echizen is a wonder. The people were unbelievably kind and welcoming. Every day, I felt like I was being given a warm hug.
For an American gal like me who speaks no Japanese with the exception of thank you and please, although I can use the phrase “studying papermaking in Echizen” really well now, I got by surprisingly well. Using facial expressions, hand gestures, and following the sounds and undertones of the words being spoken I managed to learn a lot about papermaking and the people who live in this Village.
In the beginning, it also helped that I had Rina as my voice. Rina coordinated my trip to Echizen with the Museum and speaks English and acted as a translator on many occasions, including a few dinner parties where the interest in me was high and my ability to respond was low. She often remarked on how amazed she is that the Manager of Udatsu Paper and Craft Museum, where I spent my days watching, studying, and learning, and I communicated as much as we did using my Japanese dictionary and her combination of English/Japanese dictionaries. Heck, I am surprised!
I came here with two expectations one, being that I would fumble language wise, but I would become almost fluent in Japanese because I’d have to, and the second, being to learn paper making. The later, while not completely perfect, I learned. I can proudly say that I can make traditional Japanese paper. Mastering, or learning really well Japanese language, not so much. I can hear and understand a bit. My ears are definitely listening more and trying to pick up words and phrases, but speaking Japanese, eh, we have a long way to go.
Okay, but seriously where am I a month later?
Well, I saw the entire process. My last week at Udatsu, I got to see kozo being boiled. That boiling completed my weeklong paper making education.
I know you are wondering if it is a week long, why have you been there a month?
The answer is that papermaking takes time and has a schedule and when I got here kozo did not have to be boiled. It was not part of the schedule. And I can’t complain because I’ve gotten to take my time learning different stages of the process:
I’ve checked the fibers for dirt for many hours on many different days.
I’ve also seen the fiber beating process a few times and have helped directly afterward in the mixing of the fibers to be used to make paper.
I have also soaked, gently kneaded (to loosen the kozo) and then removed with a knife the top black protective layer from kozo (one of the main plants used to make Echizen Washi).
I have worked directly with tororo-aoi, the plant whose root is used to make “neri” the all-natural glue like adhesive that when mixed with the fiber bonds them together, by cleaning, soaking, and beating it down so that the sticky adhesive freely flows and can be used to make sheets of Washi.
I have tried several attempts at making sheets of paper (this one is not 100%, but in the last week, I got a closer rhythm that tells me I will get it, eventually).
I have mixed the neri and paper fibers together. (It is a tough job and requires a lot of body muscles since you want clean strokes to mix everything together. My arms are getting sleeker thanks to this simple almost daily function.)
I have removed dirt and other brown marks from another plant that is used to make Washi, “gambi.” (It is not the most glamorous job, but when I get into the zone, I get into the zone!)
I learned how Washi that is not usable is recycled. (That is a hot process! Seriously, we boil water and then add the paper to it.)
I’ve helped set up the newly made paper in the pressing machine to have the remaining water extracted.
Lastly, I’ve helped remove completely dried sheets, lay out the newly pressed paper flat on boards made from gingko trees, and set them into the steam room for drying.
In all of that though, I have left out what I have learned which is even more important than the process. By watching the artisans almost every day for the past month (Out of 45 days total studying at Udatsu, I’ve missed seven days for personal reasons, and add another seven days because Udatsu is closed Tuesdays. Making for 31 days total I spent at Udatsu Paper and Craft Museum studying.) I’ve learned how to see and feel my way through the paper process.
The artisans here at Udatsu have a history of making paper. They either come from families that made paper, or worked for paper studios for years. Now, they lend their skill to teach others and to keep the Echizen Washi tradition alive.
With one addition of neri they know that they’ve pieced together the proper formula for Washi sheets. With one handful of fiber, they can tell whether the fiber has been mixed well enough to hold together. They know exactly how many motions with the screen will make the right weight paper. With one look, they can tell that I’m unsure about what I’m doing and direct me on the proper way.
It reminds me a lot of watching my mother make tamales every Christmas season. In my home, it is a tradition that involves one main female maker and then a handful of female family members to help. I have been helping my mother (and my grandmother (who was in charge then)) since the age of five. When my grandmother passed away, my mother took over the tradition and for 20 years I’ve helped. I swear I have no clue how she makes the tamales even with all those years under my belt. My mom tells me every year, “when I’m not around, you will instinctively know how because you’ve watched me and grandma all these years.” I of course don’t believe her. How can I even begin to imitate what she does? With a single taste my mom knows when the mix needs more salt, or olive juice, or anything!
It is the same with learning Washi.
What I’ve learned from watching the artisans mix and look and feel and touch, I hope to remember always. These are moments that could not be captured on video or in pictures because they we usually noticed by me while I was in the middle of helping.
This is where a crazy and curiously adventurous girl who has loved paper since she was five soars. Where the emotional history that boarded that plane gets lost. This is where I remember that language barriers, although frustrating, don’t mean anything when you are connecting and love what is being connected. Every welcoming face, hug, and even “NO!” that I’ve been shown or told or experienced was because my interest in the work these artists do is in my heart.
My decision to leave Echizen two weeks ahead of schedule is from the realization of two things:
1. I took my meager savings to make this trip happen. It has been worth every dime to make this dream come to fruition, however, my desire to see more of Japan (including two other paper making villages) and to stay in Echizen no longer meet.
2. I am a month a way from the end of 2012. I will celebrate my 32nd birthday on the first day of December, and when I get back to the United States in January, I will have no job and almost no money. Returning to a City, Tokyo to be exact, will allow me to plan the next stages of my business and how to integrate Echizen Washi and all that I’ve learned in a month’s time. It will allow me to focus on the future with a bit more time and with a lot more respect, rather than just ushering myself into 2013 scattered.
I plan to return to Echizen, again, and again, and maybe again a few more times. There is a festival in May (Japan’s Golden Week. In Echizen the days are May 3rd, 4th, and 5th) that I would love to see in person. More importantly though, the people I’ve spent my days with, even in my clouded emotional world, have been chicken soup for my soul, and I can’t imagine not returning to see them. My month in Echizen, was never just about learning how to make paper and following a dream, it was also about realizing a whole lot about myself, too. For that reason alone, it could never just be a once in a lifetime kind of thing.
Before I go, I’ll share a story. My first week here, Rina took me on a tour of four paper studios in Echizen. One of them was the largest paper studio in Echizen where they make large sheets of Washi. It was the day after the Fall Festival at the Village shrine. At the festival, one of the paper makers, a woman by the name of Aki-san, lured me into dancing around the bonfire to traditional songs sung to the Paper Goddess. The next day, with Rina translating, Aki-san, who makes paper at the paper studio, started singing the songs sung to the Paper Goddess (her Shrine lives in Echizen as well and is worth seeing as often as you possibly can).
Aki-san sang slowly and softly several different songs. About the second song, I burst into sobbing tears. I couldn’t explain it. I felt silly for crying. I apologized. When Aki-san finished, she hugged me and said, “She’s emotional.” (Not an understatement!)
What I thought during the minutes she sang was nothing more than, “her voice is beautiful and this moment is one of THOSE moments that you’re lucky to experience, where life hits you upside your head and reminds you that you are alive. I wasn’t thinking about being away from home, or anything more than what a beautiful moment I was having with a woman who has so much history and can sing respectfully and with power to a Goddess. I will always remember the power of Aki-san and her love and respect for her Village and the Goddess that watches over them and being allowed to be part of it. It was humbling.
I am humbled to have been part of this Village. I am extremely grateful to everyone who welcomed me and made me feel at home in a place that is many, many miles away from my own and during the holiday and my birthday season, especially. I really do feel like I have been the luckiest girl in the world to spend 45 days in Echizen.
I can’t wait to come back and I look forward to working with the artisans and with Echizen Washi specifically as I get back to my stationery and design empire.
