Thirteen days and 13,000 feet until we are home. The days are racing by.
Yesterday was Traverse’s birthday. We celebrated with sticky rice balls and homemade sushi, hiking in the pouring rain and family movie time. Lily made him an amazing three egg omelet breakfast while Isabelle produced two layer microwave cake covered in candied oranges. The last time we celebrated his birthday, exactly one year ago, it was as a going away party to start this year. Somehow I felt more prepared to leave everything a year ago than I do now to return.
People keep asking, “What was your favorite part?” or commenting “I am sure you have learned so much, changed in so many ways” but like watching the light before the sunrise,this year has subtly shaped us in ways I can feel but not see and may never fully know with my mind, only with my heart. I do know, that like imagining life without kids once you have them, I cannot imagine our life without this year now that we pull into this home stretch.
It is easier to think of the year in parts, what I want to put into this bag of memories to carry with me back home.
From Norway I want to carry back the concept of “friluftsliv”. Directly translated it means a "free air life" but is more the cultural embodiment of the joyful yet pragmatic people who’s relationship with nature is not just a sport or a hobby, but a way of life. It is the Sunday tradition of jaunts in the woods with friends, family and food. It is the quiet way of seeking first to understand before being understood. It is the sense that everything you do is part of this bigger ecosystem of life that must be treated with reverence. It is the letting go of pretense to be truly in the present.
In Croatia, coffee is not a drink, it is a way of life that I hope to bring home with me. Drinking “a coffee” means a three hour event with friends or colleagues and is where the meaning of life is found. Croatian history, and politics and borders are complex. People may be born, grow up and die all in the same village and during that time they may have been a part of three or four different counties. They make sense of those changes, they hold onto what is really important as everything else shifts around them, over a cup of coffee, giving themselves the time and space to see where the conversation and the future may lead.
In Singapore and Malaysia it was the incorporation of art and nature into everyday life. These radically different places had a similar quality that I loved. In Singapore the hospitals had built in gardens every few floors for open space in the middle of the concrete jungle. The cross walks had solar resting shades artfully designed that held onto the light from the day to share it in the evening. Malaysia, while not nearly as clean and modern still decorated its streets with art. It was not the art of the past, in museums and tucked away, but painted on the alley walls, a part of the street signs and meant to played with, inspired by and of course for a selfie. It is the art of the future, integrated into daily life and a reminder that we need more than what is practical, we need the beautiful and inspirational.
Bhutan was a place of learning and reflection. It was where I feel like I finally let go and embraced their term “oh la” meaning both an “oh well” and a sign of reverence and respect as “la” is added to anything of importance. There was reverence in letting go both in their culture and in the language. Let go if the road is closed. Let it go if the CT scanner doesn’t work. Let it go if nothing happens as planned. Watching physicians and nurses work with so few resources and so much patience made me reflect on how much harm we do to ourselves and each other from demanding our way. There is value in hard work, in preparation, but not in excessive worry about the future or all the details we cannot control. And whenever in doubt, a cup of sweat milk tea makes everything better, so you always make time for tea.
The quality I know I will not be able to fully take away, but stand in awe and admiration from Vietnam and Cambodia is resilience. Seeing bones emerge though the ground in mass graves at the Killing Fields, climbing through tunnels built during the Vietnam war, and then being welcomed into homes and hearts of the people who lived these tragedies, caused in no small part from the country I call home was beyond humbling. The ability of the Vietnames to acknowledge, recognize and remember, and then let go creates a resilience is propelling the country into the future. It made me think of my sister and how her death works as a benchmark of all loss now in much the same way the Vietnam War must mark a benchmark of loss and suffering in Vietnam. Problems look so much smaller when held next to other tragedies. In the Book Joy, the Dali Lama talks about suffering. When his gallbladder was infected, he reflects on how much less pain he felt when he thought of others suffering and the gratitude he had that he was being taken to a doctor who may be able to help. By putting our suffering in context and focusing on gratitude, we can literally create joy, and with it, possibilities. This seems to be at work on a national scale in Vietnam. This resilience left me in awe and painfully saddened by our echo chamber of suffering at home, limiting our ability to adapt, grow and respond.
As we moved North, we found ourselves in increasingly cool and modernized cultures that started the long transition home. I had a lot of expectations for this year and for myself and as we got closer to home it became a time to reflect on those goals. Yoga every day, pushups, I was going to come back strong, focused and ready to go. There were no excuses, I would have time to remember all the birthdays, connect with friends and be in the best shape ever. But I found life still happened, there were temples to see, blog posts to write, work to be done, a family to spend time with and runs came and went with the weather and illness and pushups always remained hard. What I will take from Taiwan is the slow run. Everywhere you went people were exercising. These were not 20 year old triathletes, these were 90 year old women bench pressing on top of the mountain. They were moms with kids around the track. They were women in wheelchairs in the park. The goal was not to be the best, the were active people, not with a goal of performance or perfection. Everyday Traverse would come home from the gym it was with another story of an elderly man doing insane things at the gym with no fan fair or some other person in the splits at the park. In the book Atomic Habits by James Clear he talks about the danger of goals as once they are done you stop, with habits you build stories of you are it is easier to incorporate these daily habits. When you want to quit smoking, you say you quit, not that you are “trying to quit”. You are more likely to follow through on something if it fits the story of who you see yourself as, not as accomplishing a goal. I learned in Taiwan to shape my story rather than hold only to half finished goals.
In South Korea I learned the power of purpose. The family was so much happier with the purpose of a bike ride. I rediscovered this year the purpose of my work and saw doors open when before I only saw walls. As we prepared for our time in Japan, I came across the word “ikigai” often translated as “that which makes life worth living.” This broader concept of having a purpose in life, a purpose that has meaning to a larger community. This idea of purpose builds resilience and extends life expectancy. Through leaving for this year the truth of my own sense of purpose and the need for that purpose became brilliantly clear.
As we finish our time in Japan, I am glad we are headed home, as my backpack of memories is bursting at the seams and our individual callings are pulling us back. But Japan, a land where you can spend five years mastering the art of a tea ceremony, feels like the perfect place to end. It reminds me of the beauty of perfecting a few things, but that to do this you must let go of the concept that you can “do it” or “have it all.” They put attention into every detail, even the routine making your bed the moment you wake in preparation for sleep the following evening. There is a ceremony in taking off your shoes, the art of the meal, the greeting of another. The attention to detail is what gave rise to the economic growth of Japan and made them stand a part in a world of more. It is this attention to detail of what has become important over this part year that I hope to bring from my time in Japan.
This blog was intended to be a chance to share our stories with family and friends. It was a substitute to dominating Facebook feeds and instagram post but it turned into much more of a personal journal and taught me the power of reflection. This entry is no different. I am grateful to each of you for reading this far, for being a part of this journey as we make the most of these last 13 days, the 13,000 feet up Mt Fuji and this one life we get to live.
It has been an amazing ride (photo and smile curtesy of the kids camp)