A final summit -Mt. Fuji

There is a race.   

You train, prepare, spend countless hours practicing, perfecting, pushing.   

The time gets closer and the jitters start to build. 

Are you ready?   

Can you do this? 

What happens if  you fail and what does failure look like?  

You refocus, you visualize what success means, you show up at the start early.  

You’re off, the race  has started, you take off too fast pulled forward by the excitement and the energy, like a spring being released. 

Steady, you have a long way to go.  

The miles role by, at first you have no idea how you will ever finish -  so far still to go.  

By the middle you start to hurt a bit, the energy of the pull is gone but you are in a grove and you keep moving forward.  

You really hurt now, three quarters of the way through. 

How are you going to finish?  

Why did you sign up for this in the first  place? 

Your friends are sleeping in, eating bunch, and here you are, hurting in the rain for what?  

You buckle down, push a little harder.  You know you grow when you hit the edge of your comfort zone.   

Suddenly you look up and realize you are near the end, you can hear the crowd, feel the energy and you pick up the pace, put in the last of what you have.  

The final end is the sprint -  legs, arms, lungs are one, your mind stops talking, you body just moves and you are in the moment. 

The end comes, somehow so much faster and slower than you thought.  

You cross the finish line, you double over, sides hurting, breath gasping, filled with joy.  

You are stronger than you realized.  

You showed up and gave it your all.  

Everyone is going about their day, oblivious of your race, but you know.  

You know you stronger, different, changed.  

You hold that knowledge of where you have come and how far you have come. 

You will need the strength you found another day and you hold it close, glowing next to your heart.   

And so this was our year and Mt. Fuji was our sprint, full of beauty and promise. The year is past, the future not quite here, and we embraced every moment of our climb, not reflecting back on our journey preparing or transitioning home, but instead living each breath, in the moment with all of its gifts.   

And now we prepare to board the plane home, it is like we are crossing the finish line of this year.  We are all together, our worst fears were not realized and we have all gown in ways we didn’t know were possible.  We will still need to stretch, catch our breath and adjust, but being here at this moment it feels great. The light and strength from this year is safely tucked away as we head home to family, friends, passions and purpose.  

Thank you all for cheering us on, supporting us when we needed it, believing in us when we didn’t and pushing us to be more, see more and do more and to do less.    We don’t plan to continue this blog at home, but I plan to continue writing and reflecting on life's journey, on healthcare as well as health and wellness and you are welcome to follow along.   We look forward to the road ahead.  

Farewell friends, it has been a great ride.

“The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning ”

— Ivy Baker Priest

We started up Fuji with a breakfast of champions.

Station 5 and the start of the Fuji trail after a long and winding road up.

Every temple has these walls of wishes where you can purchase a piece of wood, write your wish and attach it to the wall. As a family we left our wish for the year hanging on this wall at the base of Mt. Fuji.

Our wish among the others.

We also got individual wishes, full of fun about the girls future relationships, jobs and health.

Hanging our wishes on a sting of wishes.

Time to leave our wishes behind and begin up one final journey.

With one final treat.

Look at that view. Starting out in the clouds.

Well this is it friends, time to climb.

Last moments of green.

Climbing higher with these two!

In their own world, enjoying the time and space to talk, play and treasure their friendship

You never know what face this one will produce when you pull out the phone.

Basically we ate our way up Mt. Fuji. The selection and avalibility of food and supplies was impressive.

Need oxygen? I was surprised at how many people were using oxygen on our way up.

We stayed at a lodge part way up the mountain to get the full cultural experience. Efficient, warm and dry it was a nice treat part way up the mountain. It was surprising however how many people climbed though the night or slept on the benches outside the lodges.

The next morning we “work up” (not sure any of us really slept) at 2 am and started to climb to see the sunrise. This was my favorite part of the climb. The peace and beauty of the night and the stunning sunrise was magical. We also totally lucked out with the weather. It rained ever day before our hike and everyday since besides the day we summited. It was also the first official day the trail was open due to a landslide that closed the mountain for the first 10 days of the climbing season.

The magical layer between clouds as we made our way up.

Slowly getting lighter

Lily making the final push to the summit though the trail that had collapsed and opened the day we summited.

Lily again going through the gates at the summit right as the sun rose. It was a perfect ending to a perfect trip. We couldn’t have timed this moment if we planned all year for it, but there it was unfolding in front of us.

The top!

Yah!

Looking down as the clouds kept parting.

The crowd at the top watching the sunrise.

Nothing better than fresh hot miso Raman and coffee at the top at 5 am!

Checking out the crater - it is a little colder up here.

Time to head down.

Basically how I feel - what a year, what a summit.

Long way home

I love the bond these two have, more adventures to come I am sure.

What do you do when you didn’t sleep all night, stared to climb at 2 am and are at your new hotel at 8 am and check in is not for 7 more hours? Spend the whole day at the amusement park! The girls had to make the most of the sun we had not seen in weeks. What a treat to enjoy it on Mt. Fuji and then at the amusement park all day.

On our way to the plane I saw this poster - To be continued for sure, but grateful for an amazing year.

At the base of Mt. Fuji

As the end of the year was coming quickly we spent our last week at the base of Mount Fuji getting ready for the transition home.   

Isabelle’s art has bloomed and she has set out to start a company to sell her work. She got selected as an Amazon merchant and is working on uploading images for clothing, stickers and more.  Meanwhile she has been brainstorming business ideas and it is fun to see her passion. Her company, Arctic Threads, will soon be up online, on social media and on Amazon. It has been fun to see her passion grown and her take on all the details of starting a business from scratch. 

Lily spent her week using her talent at organizing and her eye for beauty to create a book of images from this year that we can print and have at home.  There is an art to telling a story and a beauty in having a project finished. Having a printed book of pictures feels like the best possible souvenir from a year of travel.

My life journey has been long and circuitous, simply following my heart, not sure how the pieces wouldl all fit together.  This year has felt like coming into a clearing in the woods and seeing the view for the first time. I suddenly have a clear purpose and know where I want to go.   Creating systems that support health and wellness is the next transition in health care and where I want to spend my time and energy both personally and professionally.  This passion and my love of writing resulted in a book proposal, as well as submission and rejection by agents, but a clear path moving forward.

Traverse oversaw all of our project, providing encouragement and technical support as he continued to grow his business and make arrangements for our transition back home

Between work projects we climbed, ran, read and prepared for life back home.  We befriended the women at the supermarket and the local onsen (Japnesse hot springs).  We relished in little moments, the time, the quiet, the joy of this year. We took a deep breath before the final push up Mt. Fuji and back home.

Catching the train to Mt. Fuji area, clearly a tourist hotspot with its dedicated rail system.

Enjoying the amazing fish

Ordering a meal at vending machine.

Alternative entertainment near Mt. Fuji. All perfectly manacured in true Japan style.

The flowers around town have been amazing, and we are starting to find berries, a real sign that we have come full circle this year.

The kids at the end of their camp, all smiles with a world of new friends.

These two- they have grown so much this year.

Our “home” for 10 days, an old traditional Japanese house in the center of town.

How far we have come

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)

What we learned from less

We decided to travel with only one small carry on a piece per person this year. I was doubtful.  We would be in Bhutan in the winter, Norway, climb Mt. Fuji and scorching hot Cambodia and fancy dinners in Croatia.  Surely we would need more. We agonized over which pair of pants, which shoes, stuffed our bags to the max and took off.

One year later our bags are lighter and smaller than they were when we left and carrying less taught me a lot about life and what I want to take back from this year. 

We “needed” much less than I thought.  The need for a second pair of pants feels silly when you are carrying everything through a packed train.  You can put together an astonishing array of clothing options with just a few pieces, which exponentially grows when you share with others.  Having less really does give you the freedom to do more, see more, be more. 

There are things that are made well are worth their weight in gold.   Running pants with pockets, a wool shirt, stretchy light, fast drying travel pants, we each had a few things that we have loved and used until they literally are falling off of us.  We learned to make things work, sow the hole, be ok with being wet or climb in sandals. 

We learned the importance of art and things that bring you joy.  We may be down to one pair of pants, but Isabelle has a volleyball in her bag, colored pencils and drawing paper.  Lily has more makeup than I have at home and Traverse has never left the portable yoga mat and gained an exercise resistance band.  We focused on the practical when we left, but underestimated the need for things that brought us joy. As a result we have more room for objects of joy in our bags and in our lives. 

I learned to appreciate things that made me more connected or pushed me to learn.  Audiobooks were my best friends and Aaptiv coaches were a daily part of my exercise routine.  We also learned that spending a little up front on an in-country SIM card was well worth the expense letting us be connected all year.   

We also learned from what we could not carry with us.  I miss running into friends in the store, going to the same yoga studio, and the hum of a routine.  And vegetables, oh vegetables. I don’t think of Alaska as a place of produce, but it is. The variety and size of a US grocery story is mind boggling.  Japan has the biggest grocery stores we have seen in a while and I can’t help but purchasing another head of broccoli everytime I go. I think the only “things” I miss are jeans and a bulky sweater. 

I am not sure this year would have had nearly the same impact if we packed up a collection of things and moved to another country. Today I look at my bag of things and think of all the excess, the opulence I carry with me and I am grateful for less.  We can justify things for “work” or “comfort” and say we need them, but honestly we need so little. 

When we return, I hope we can hold onto less, only bringing only the things back in that bring us joy, but I am looking forward to a salad with friends in a bulky sweater and jeans. 

Lily’s pack before we left. She has probably outgrown half of this now.

My medical kit for the year.

Weighing stuffed animals before we left balancing the joy they bring with their size and weight.

Birds Fly

So they are off.  There was this inherent contradiction in taking this year as a family.   Kids are meant to spread their wings and fly, to push the bounds of the nest and start to venture out on their own.   Yet this year,  we took them away from all their friends and known places to explore and we just had each other most of the time.

We have grown closer as a family than I ever thought possible, yet part of that growth has also come from pushing and finding out more about what each of us really needs.  The kids need friends, and space, so for the end of this trip we signed them up for an overnight, week-long  camp in Japan. 

Today we took them to the Tokyo station to meet their camp counselors and they boarded a bus and headed to the coast for biking, hiking, full on camp adventure, complete with camp food and bunk beds.

They were so ready to have us gone that we were the first family  there and took off before most of the other parents had even arrived.   Lily who started this year with a stuffed animal, and now she stood as tall as her counselor and shrugged off the hug I tried to give her with a clear look it was time for me to go. 

So they are off.  The birds are out of the nest for the week.  More than any milestone, this one hit me hard,  knowing this is the beginning of the end.  When we get home it will be middle school, high school and they are both practically young adults now.  I don’t think I will ever get this much time with them and have so treasured every moment.  I also know they are ready to fly.

Headed out - someone is ready to go!

The Trail of the Samurai

Cobble stones and waterfalls make up an ancient path, the Nakasedo Trail, connecting Kyoto to Tokyo.  It is a trail through the mountains, a path for the “feudal lords and samurai” and a fitting place to spend a few days seeing the beautiful Japanese countryside.   

I thought about naming this blog entry, “the kindness of strangers” as our days have been filled with a rainbow of people taking us in making us a part of their community.   

Bullet trains and local buses landed us in the town of Magome and the lovely home of Keiko.  This lovely Airbnb host opened her home and heart to us. We enjoyed the most amazing Japanese dishes at her house, some even prepared with the girls help.   We had the fortune of staying two nights at her place, leaving us time to explore the garden, the surrounding town, old paths and even the local public bath where we bathed nude outside in the rock garden except the traditional hats provided to keep the sun off of our faces.  

The next morning found us up early and walked pass Keiko’s son’s exceptional coffee house.  We used the local postal service to transport our bags to the next town. The girls hiked together while Traverse and I discussed life and politics as we crossed over the Magome pass along the ancient trail enjoying the history and beauty with a few hundred school kids who seems to be out on an all-day field trip in uniform.

The next evening in Tsumago was beautiful and quiet under the full moon.  The sleepy town shuts it doors around four. The pictures of the town today look almost identical to the ones in the 1930’s you can see in the local museum.    That night, on the porch of the ancient inn, looking out into the dark under the full moon, with the background noise of crickets and the creek, I gave a national webinar about the opioid crisis to some 600 people.  It was this odd moment speaking by myself and yet so many in the quiet of the night. I reflected on these paths through history and the communities we build. The quote by Jonan Hari rang true, “the opposite of addiction is not sobriety. The opposite of addiction is connection.”  It is the connection of home, of our family both immediate and far and the new connections from this year that brings the greatest meaning to the paths we walk.

Our lovely host who trully made us feel at home.

Teaching the girls origami

The stunning ancient trail.

Not a bad walk to our new home.

Birds, butterflies everywhere, rice fields full of tadpole. The Japanese country side was breathtakingly beautiful.

Exploring hidden trails

walking to the train station.

I loved these old roads.

it was amazing how you would just stumble on history as you walked along the trail.

enjoying the waterfall along the way

the forest was beautiful

The old town, essentially unchanged in the last 100 years.

these small beautiful stones were everywhere

and then in the woods you would see these guys, all with their red knit hats and scarfs

He has been sitting here for a long time

Our Airbnb home.

A local shop selling an impressive array of snacks that were wonderful

Onions drying in the house down the road.

Almost every home had a set fo flowers

My view under the full moon where I gave a presentation to 600 people. It was an odd sense of how interconnected the world is now

making our way up the trail

the following spring

A tour boat in our next stop, Lake Ashi.

Hiking near Hakone we were again treated to ancient history.

Totally off the beaten track, we took a different trail and saw these guys. The history, culture and nature here have been stunning.

In the looking class

In the garden of memories

In the place of dreams

That is where you and I

Shall meet.

- The mad hatter.  Alice through the looking glass

Eleven months ago we stepped through the looking glass, leaving our old world behind and entering a new.

The world twisted and turned, the unexpected became the expected, unusual acquaintances became our guides and a very many unbirthdays were had.

Stepping into Japan has been like seeing the back of the looking glass, knowing we will step back through the magic door in less than a month: back to home, forever changed.  The modern amenities, longer days, cooler weather and thongs of American tourist make the door back home feel trangible.

It seems like a fitting place to finish our travels.  When I was a Watson fellow looking at the impacts of tourism on culture and environment in Antarctica, Botswana and Nepal, the difference between eastern and western tourism was striking.  In most western cultures to appreciate or enjoy something means taking something from the place with you. It may be a souvenir, a picture, a stone, but you collect things that are important.  In eastern cultures if a place is important, you leave something. You leave a prayer flag, a wish, money or a personal belonging.

Walking through the temples of Nara, surrounded by hundreds of years of offerings to this holy site, I realized I thought a lot about what we would get from this year, but maybe the other side of that question is what will we leave behind to honor this experience.

As we soak in every moment we are reminded of another quote from Alice:

 “the only way to achieve the impossible is to believe it is possible.”

Trains, temples, sushi, 800 year old trees and Onsens.   We are grateful for this beautiful, meditative space and a culture that focuses on what is achieved as a whole rather than the individual as we prepare to leave a part of ourselves and step back through the glass.  

The girls art books continue to amaze me as they find their voice in art

The beautiful simplicity of our lodging

Robes included helping everyone get in the spirt

Outside of Kyoto you can visit the monkeys. We loved how the people were caged and the monkeys were free so you could share food from inside but they could leave when ever they wanted.

Lily and the monkey

The beautiful of this country as like taking a breath of fresh air

June is rain season in Japan, meaning a time for rainbows and lush green hills.

early morning walks through the bamboo grove

picture on line of this place look like it can be packed shoulder to shoulder, but the rainy season and early morning turned out to be a peaceful start to the day

Art everywhere

Of course sushi was one of our first stops. This place was good, but the night before our hotel owner have us directions to a small hole in the wall place and walked us there as he thought we might not recognize it as a restaurant (he was right). It was an amazing meal, small, on the floor and run by 2 guys who did everything from cook, to serve, to the dishes. Tuna sashimi, roasted whole garlic, fried been sprouts, and many other things I could not identify.

The endless fascination of the Japanese train system and their very formal conductors.

Exploring old town

I loved this carving, the facial expressions with so little detail on the round faces that seemed to capture the tourism all around.

temples.

Beautiful cared for

art reminding us of home.

these bikes are the best. The super mom’s of Japan (sorry i didn’t see an Japanese dads rocking these bikes) They are everywhere, often with an e-assist, with a kid in the front and kid on the back. No need for a pull along. They ride these bikes through throngs of tourist, chatting with other moms, calm and stylish. My mom heros.

Our animal whisperer enjoying the dear in Nara

And having them do tricks for her

so much love

I wan not sure what I loved more, the ancient temples or the ancient trees, but together they were stunning.

stones of history

making out way to bullet train to head towards Tokyo