the kitchen sink at my grandparent's house in ishikari is a stainless steel basin facing a wall of deep red tile. there is one small flourescent lamp that hangs overhead.
as i stand there, washing piles of tiny dishes, each with their own purpose, i think of the lifetime my grandmother has spent, washing dishes, scaling fish, peeling turnips, soaking onions right in that tiny windowless space.
today, my sister interviewed my grandmother. on my brand new iphone 4s, i have what will become hours of voice recordings recalling history of places and times worlds away from what my sister and i have ever known. stories of living through the war, of bartering in the black market, of baking fish for the customers who stayed at the family inn, of hiding bags of rice in crevices in the cieling, of being one of the lucky few who could attend high school.
sometimes i love blinding speed, of being able to live life so spontaneously and so in every moment that i barely have time to think or mull. i think my youth makes me excitable, impatient- and i get frustrated when i don't have the freedom to move with abandon.
but being here, i get used to the steady pace, regular, calculated even- and realize that things still get done, and people still enjoy life. moving through space and time with this much specificity takes an incredible amount of grace, a particular grace that is difficult to pin down and that i have only found here in japan.
it is a different kind of freedom here- within customs, rules, boundaries, you can be free. the world isn't so big and unmeasurable. within boundaries, there is empty space, mu, and how we move through this space with grace becomes both your peace and also your life's greatest work.
as i stand there, washing piles of tiny dishes, each with their own purpose, i think of the lifetime my grandmother has spent, washing dishes, scaling fish, peeling turnips, soaking onions right in that tiny windowless space.
today, my sister interviewed my grandmother. on my brand new iphone 4s, i have what will become hours of voice recordings recalling history of places and times worlds away from what my sister and i have ever known. stories of living through the war, of bartering in the black market, of baking fish for the customers who stayed at the family inn, of hiding bags of rice in crevices in the cieling, of being one of the lucky few who could attend high school.
sometimes i love blinding speed, of being able to live life so spontaneously and so in every moment that i barely have time to think or mull. i think my youth makes me excitable, impatient- and i get frustrated when i don't have the freedom to move with abandon.
but being here, i get used to the steady pace, regular, calculated even- and realize that things still get done, and people still enjoy life. moving through space and time with this much specificity takes an incredible amount of grace, a particular grace that is difficult to pin down and that i have only found here in japan.
it is a different kind of freedom here- within customs, rules, boundaries, you can be free. the world isn't so big and unmeasurable. within boundaries, there is empty space, mu, and how we move through this space with grace becomes both your peace and also your life's greatest work.
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