Bloom Where You Are Planted

More than a week following the earthquake and with positive reports from the nuclear power plant in Fukushima, this morning we opened the windows. It was warm and the sun was shining. Birds flew back and forth to the feeder carrying out their busy morning routine as if nothing had happened. I picked up my camera and went out for a dog walk without a jacket on for the first time this year. We had plans to go to our friend’s house for lunch and Asako’s parents were coming out for dinner under the guise of needing help with their computer – really any reason to get together would suffice.

March 20, 2011

Walking past the cemetery behind our house, the smell of incense floated up onto the street. The old woman who I see most weekends had already been to straighten their Ohaka (family grave). While I didn’t see her today, the stainless steel vases that had tipped over during the quake had been righted, dust and leaves swept up, and two stunning flower arrangements stood as hallmarks to her visit. The comfort in seeing this routine care for the dead was offset by the awareness that just a few hundred kilometers away remaining survivors needed help as they desperately clung to life.

Cycling over to our friend’s home for lunch we gave them a small bag with a box of peppermint tea that I had brought back from Canada and two apples. We jokingly said that we probably should have brought milk and eggs to really show our gratitude as these items are still quite hard to come by. Over the course of several hours we moved in and out of stories related to the earthquake and aftermath but also of parenting along with new projects and next steps. It was wonderful to have conversations that weren’t grounded in fear.

When dessert of homemade tiramisu was offered, our hosts told us how they had bought the ingredients before the tragic events and had only felt it was appropriate to make so the ingredients wouldn’t expire. Even then they had had quite a debate about whether to make it or not. According to an ethic we could all appreciate, an enormous earthquake, followed by a tsunami, and nuclear crisis is not a time for tiramisu. Even more so, however, it is not a time for waste so we enjoyed it with a cup of coffee.

The crisis is far from over. Supermarket shelves are sparse and lights are off in shops and homes to save power for the national grid. Scheduled rotating power outages influence many areas and we are warned that the nuclear power plant is not yet stabilized. Even with whatever minor inconveniences we have endured, survivors feel guilty. Those who have left Japan can take comfort in knowing they have reduced the demand for electricity and food. Those who remain, live modestly out of necessity and share in the sense of community that joins a nation in recovery.

It doesn’t really matter whether we survive due to place, fate, luck, purpose, or chance. What matters is that we “just did” survive and continue to without guarantee. We can live in reverence to those who have died and those who are currently at great personal peril either in the debris of Tohoku or in the weakening clutches of the Fukushima plant. As the old woman at the cemetery knows, reverence doesn’t mean that we neglect our responsibilities or forgo life’s small joys. The tragic events of the past 10 days give us the chance to reassess that which we hold valuable and put ourselves to good use. In doing so we gain permission to once again delight in being alive and to bloom where we are planted. – AC

Yoshino Cherry Blossoms on March 20, 2011

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