s c a r s

a painful memory surfacing...

I've ruminated and worried about posting this piece about race for months. It's interesting because it's part of theme of this entry; that race keeps coming up. It's a scar that reminds me of pain when I was a young girl and the scar that heats up today. I'm reluctant to share it, am concerned about how my friends will respond.  So it leads me to believe and feel it's an important thing to share. I'm uncomfortable.  I feel like I have not made the strides I thought I had. I feel like I need to work harder,  just as our society and our culture have more work to do when it comes to talking about race. 

Race keeps coming up.

 Deaths in Ferguson, Baltimore, New York, Chicago, Cleveland, Charleston, - bringing up memories of feeling different and other.









When did I first notice it?

 In kindergarten. "What's the word to describe this?",  asked my teacher, holding up a a wet sponge gesturing  "squeeze".  My hand shoots up with pride, "shiboru" I wanted to say. Wrong, not Japanese, English! Embarrassed, I think I went and hid in the dark bathroom for a little while.

Another memory, lunch in the cafeteria, wanting desperately to fit in with my new friends and have the "right" things in my lunch box. No rice balls, white bread sandwiches.  No rice crackers, pre-packaged cookies. No fresh, homegrown fruit, please.Why can't we buy Ho-Ho's? 

What is a nip, a Jap?
Oh, it's me. The words sting and punch a deep place inside. But I smile and find my convincing laugh and false grin that hides tears,  sadness and embarrassment for feeling different; not white, not blond, not blue-eyed. Even my good friends, my best friends, made those slurs common and made me feel less. Why didn't I stand up for myself? Why didn't my other Chinese, Filipino, Japanese friends stand up? Instead, we smiled, laughed and nervously hoped the topic would change. My parents told my siblings and me there was a covenant on the the deed to our house we owned in Sacramento that prohibited selling or renting to racial or ethnic minorities.  The developers wanted the neighborhoods segregated, protected from the Other.

The struggles, brutality and violence against black men and women don't begin to compare with my childhood pain but it's brought race up again. The feelings have surfaced that I thought had healed to a degree.

I've learned to blend, not to feel like I'm on the other side watching kids play tennis and swim through the chain-link fence from Park Terrace Swim and Tennis Club. As a young girl, the fence that separated me seemed like miles away.

And even though today I play in a tennis league team as captain and have lived in a super, open, beach community for over 30 years; racial injustice has exposed a sensitive scar.

I've grown accustomed to being the only person of color in the room; at work, at a tennis club, in restaurants, in stores. I still sometimes feel the "look" from the salesperson, either indifference or a feeling of being watched. So I'm not really a customer who deserves to be acknowledged when I walk in the door, sometimes ignored, or I've been made to feel, as an adult, a potential shoplifter, who doesn't really "belong" in the store. In the 90s, while grocery shopping with my biracial son, curious people would ask if I was his nanny. I've become keen on picking up on subtle, non-verbal body language and I've forgotten what that felt like until recently.  

I'm one of the "model minority"
I've never felt comfortable with the label but it really is amazing what I've learned to do, how I've become a chameleon, can conform, blend into my environment. I recognize how hard it has been to do well, be good, work hard, and blend in more and more and erase little by little the things that make me, me.

Today, I long to share my experience and the courage it takes to meet and marry a partner outside of your ethnicity. I do find it takes inner strength to hold on to your culture, your traditions with reverence. It takes fortitude to continue embracing my culture while appreciating and loving my husband and  his Hungarian, Polish, Russian heritage. I learned to hide a part of myself to survive, to conform, to blend and to compartmentalize my Japanese roots to fit in. It's taken a long time for me to progress and transform hurtful experiences into sharing more.

I've realized so many opportunities these past 56 years and have healed emotional pains but as we continue to hear, see and read about race,  memories of hateful racial slurs, language that makes me feel small and other and question my heritage cause the scars to surface.  It makes me question again, for a moment,  when I walk into a room, a bar, a boutique, any public place, do I need to continue to "prove" myself by fitting the mold, being unique but not too outside of the acceptable realm of exotic, ethnic, different?

Today Buddhism, Zen,  and meditation are part of popular culture.
 I have a wonderful lineage that ties me to Japan for generations. As I get older, I'm embracing the nuances of what it means to have this rich heritage (Buddhist, Shin, Zen) that I was once paralyzed to share. I knew there was deep meaning and beauty but was uncertain how to describe, defend or share it.

 Today, I try to engage with honesty while feeling a little vulnerable. There are times when putting my true self out there feels like the little girl who first raised her hand in kindergarten;  innately confident, straddling two cultures, excited to be an equal participant. The scars make up who I am and my thoughts and intentions are based upon all experiences.  I strive to live with understanding to cultivate an open heart. I was misguided to think I'd escape the deep hurt of racism, bigotry and racial slurs. It's a scar that still heats up now and then.  I don't want to erase it, run away or remove it any longer. I'm choosing to stand tall with my heart forward. I am learning to accept all the memories/experiences  of what makes me, me. The scars are still sensitive spots that cause pain but they have also revealed a way for me to practice being more tolerant, empathic, compassionate and more courageous with myself and to all sentient beings.

"Never be ashamed of a scar. It simply means you were STRONGER than whatever tried to hurt you."
-shared by a friend on FB

The Perfect Gift

Looking inward, when we can bring our full attention to another, to listen to and share our joys and happiness, sorrows and ah-ha moments, we give each other the bounty and fullness of love and affection. When we listen with our whole body, all of our senses, without interruption from our devices, we are sharing our life force energy and luminous hearts with one another.

As I age, the glory and drudgery of holiday shopping is more superficial, stressful, less personal. Once in awhile, I do enjoy finding the perfect gift I think a loved one will appreciate but not on a timetable and in an arena that bombards the senses and unnecessarily separates me from the true essence of thoughtful giving. 

This life we have is short and sacred and the best gift won't be found under a tree in a beautiful box adorned with pinecones and juniper.  It will be the precious time we have together, sharing our life stories and our experiences. It will be wrapped in the warm and soft embrace of listening, touching, hugging, laughing, and crying.

Perhaps we can spend time together savoring a winter sunset or sit in the living room sipping hot cups of tea. We can nourish each other in a way that is everlasting and create a memory that can penetrate deep into our hearts. 

I'm carving out more time, instead of igniting the well traveled path of consumption,  to arrange more dates with friends to enjoy each other's breath, company, and radiance. 


I think this is the ultimate way to show how much you mean to me.

b i g

It was just after sunrise when I began to contemplate the term continuation. A little realization woke me up that grew to be quite b i g.  It came down to breath, impermanence, and gratitude.

 Thich Nhat Hanh says "we are a lovely continuation of our parents, our ancestors, our lineage, our teachers, and loved ones. If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people."

 I understand continuation when it comes to birthdays, births, and weddings; happy occasions. But when someone I love, someone our family loves, dies suddenly, leaves her body-I’ve been learning to practice how to pivot from a well worn pattern of the life/death paradigm to that of no birth, no death.

We’ve accepted this dualistic way of thinking that creates a great divide with a host of feelings around loss.  Here in body, physically, not here physically. Alive, not alive. -as if everything was only real when our loved ones were here in the physical manifestation and that they somehow cease and disappear when they leave their body. That’s not how I feel deep inside about life and death.   

And I found that Thay (translation teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh) says something similar...

… to die means from someone you suddenly became no one. From something, you suddenly became nothing”.  But nothing is like that. 

A cloud, a forest, a volcano doesn’t become nothing. I am with my father, who left his body ten years ago, when I am in the produce aisle sniffing out the perfect peach or slicing vine ripened tomatoes from the garden, or cradling my head, fingers clasped at the nape of my skull to relax.

  I am walking and chatting with Emylee in the forest in Oregon, gathering fiddle leaf ferns for dinner, savoring with delight our strong pot of Hojicha tea and a homemade sweet in the afternoon. There is only continuation. 

Walking in the forest in Oregon

The view near our cabin in March 

When I can transcend the notion of birth and death, there is freedom, there is abundance of love and warmth because I am not separate just as there is no separation between life and death.These moments are welcomed with tears and sometimes sadness but also great happiness to understand the impermanence of life. I embrace this moment much more. I value this moment.

Experiences in daily life like a tragic event, a strong emotion, a personal loss can be overwhelming but if I can remember three big things: breath, impermanence, gratitude. To breathe deeply, slowly, expansively I can gain a wider perspective and awareness. To remember, I am impermanent, we are impermanent and when I remember I am immediately grateful for this moment because this moment will never happen again and we are all a lovely continuation. 

Breathing in to impermanence with gratitude.

science lesson, life lesson

I picked this chard leaf from our vegetable garden the other day and as I admired its undulations, human-like veins, saturated (untouched) color, rippling texture, I was enthralled and awed by Mother Nature. I experienced first hand, on an indescribable level, what it means to see the sun, the sky, a cloud in a leaf. Photosynthesis, right? and a poetry and art unfolding. 











Perhaps if more science teachers imbued poetry and art in the classroom, we could grasp the beauty, artistry and vitality of botany, biology, chemistry, physics at an earlier age. Thank you to the poets, dreamers and scientists.It's easy to see how food and nature fuels and feeds our bodies and minds when we pause to appreciate what's on our plates, in our gardens, in our markets and on our farms. 

We are being nourished by the sun, the rain, the clouds…This makes me very happy. Today I'm reminding myself to take good care of Mother Nature. She is a part of us, we are a part her. 

The Ocean is Bluer and Brighter

The ocean today is bluer and brighter than ever before, is that possible?

Just before Mother’s Day 18 years ago, my best friend was in an accident in which she didn’t survive . I had just come home from a walk. My husband delivered the news to me. Time stood still.  My friend had young sons, a 3 year old and an infant. My kids were maybe 2 and 6. Although it was shocking and devastating news,  I honestly believe that losing my friend, brought me further on the path of understanding, love and yes, even joy.  I’d like to share a poem that captures that feeling by Sister Dang Nghiem:

The sky is deeper blue today, because I have awareness.

The trees are more alive today, as I breathe in their greenness.

The birds are soaring higher, with my eyes following their path.

The children’s laughter is brighter, as my own lips are blooming.

And you, you are closer to me than ever, because I know myself more.

18 years ago I lost great friend who would light up a room with her smile and laugh, she personified inclusion and warmth.  Sometimes tragedy, inconceivable tragedy, if you allow your heart to open, can give rise to a great teaching, an opening, and for me it was this moment. This poem reminded me of the time when I felt like nothing was making sense and would never be the same. And then something shifted.

 I looked out over the ocean a few days later and it really was bluer, and since that day I began to see things and appreciate the extraordinary in ordinary, everyday experiences.  I guess I kind of made an inner vow that day, that my life would never be the same because I was going to appreciate more and bring more awareness to every day. My practice of kindness, love, and understanding became deeper. I don’t think I would be here today had I not woken up to the beauty of an ordinary day.

Everything is brighter and deeper because of Patty and she is infused in all that surrounds me.  There’s no separation. I am grateful.

written April 19, 2015

Son Salutation

one light, one son



 The earth revolved around the sun 24 times, today marks Canaan's 24th birthday. Canaan illuminates my life and the sun illuminates all life. I fell in love when he was born and was introduced to whom my mom referred to as, "my new friend". I am grateful to have spent the early years together. Yes; to care, feed, teach, clothe, and play and also; to have the history of just being together- sharing each other's presence, sharing breath. There's not one particular time or age, just ordinary days and months that swiftly became years to form our history, our bond. Today, we continue listening and sharing. Our bond evolves and grows.  I cherish the early days as a first time mom when we would exchange gazes and non-verbal gestures that communicated volumes. Learning and growing together; still learning, still growing. 

sun, surya

Varanasi, India on the Ganges River at sunrise- walking meditation at first light as our sangha descends down a well worn path into our narrow wooden rowboat.  As the sun rose, I began to grasp the sun's deep meaning to the people who have greeted it's magnificence here for thousands of years. We rely upon the sun to survive. Fire, earth, water, air- all a vital part of our existence. How often do I acknowledge the elements that sustain life? All life depends upon the sun but everyday I zoom-in on my minutiae and rarely look up to notice its brilliance and life sustaining energy. Do I appreciate nature and the elements that sustain me, for one inhalation and exhalation, each day?   

salutation, namaskar, namaste

I celebrate my son and celebrate the sun that quietly illuminates and sustains life and light for our planet and solar system. As I celebrate Canaan's continuation, he is my warm messenger; to remember to appreciate the sun for its precious light and warmth, to take a deep bow every now and then that emanates from my heart, surya namaskar, sun salutation. -Deeply and profoundly appreciating the earth, water, air, fire-to remember mother earth, mother nature, oneness. -A greeting at dawn, a simple and reverent way to begin. The people living near the sacred Ganges were a beautiful reminder to appreciate the sun for without it we would cease to exist. We are interconnected and share in its life-sustaining qualities every moment, in darkness and in light. 

one light, one sun, one sun lighting everyone
one world turning, one world turns for everyone... -raffi

 Canaan 2 years

Joyful Reflection

Celebrating my daughter, celebrating oneness

Seven thousand three hundred days ago, my daughter Kai Ana was born. She is 20 years old today.  When did she begin to exist?  40 weeks before her birth date while I was pregnant? That would be 7,510 days, or before that when we had an intention of wanting a second child? Or when I was a young girl knowing deep in my heart that someday, I would have a daughter? I feel I'm with Kai today even though we are separated by over a thousand miles. I feel an immense sense of gratitude to my mother and father for laying a foundation for me to have grown a family. To my courageous and strong grandmothers, whom I never met in person, but whose blood flows through me and to my ancestors from Japan to whom I am deeply connected to through blood, bones, history, and rich culture. So although Kai is over a thousand miles away, I look up at the sky,  notice the clouds roll in as the sun sets and take a deep breath, she's right here.

 I feel connected to the earth, the sky, the rain and all conditions that created Kai.  My teacher, Thay says, as parents, we are participants in our children's lives.  What a lovely way to remember. I am a participant in the front row of her life. No grasping, no holding, just knowing that she is within me and I'm within her. There is no separation and I am hugging her right now. 

Probably 7 years ago and today. No separation.