no 29

Have you accidentally looked into the sun or bright light, then looked away, and the image burned into your eyelids? That’s an afterimage.

Last week, I wrote about the freedom afforded by owning fewer things, the idea of Swedish Death Cleaning, and Five Days to Live.

I don't know why, but I had a hard time sending this installment.

Here's what I saw, heard, or sensed that’s stayed with me in the past week. Let’s begin.

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Message from the Body: Languages, Literal and Somatic

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When in Kyoto

I met my daughter in Kyoto this week, some 1383 kilometers, or 860 miles from home. My daughter traveled with her school volleyball team to a tournament in Kobe earlier this week, a city within commuting distance from Kyoto. The trip granted her her team 6th place and my daughter her deepest Covid wish: to be apart from me just enough to miss me. We love each other. And. Covid years have been intense.

As soon as she was off the court and out of her volleyball jersey, she went by train to get to her dance lessons in Kyoto.

Once in Kyoto, she transferred onto the subway and rode to the northwest corner of the Imperial Palace. She walked four minutes and let herself into the practice room on the first floor of her teacher’s house. She sat in front of the door in the hallway, opened the screen door with both hands, and bowed before entering, respecting protocol. She set up behind a dressing screen. Her hands worked swiftly to pleat and tie the cotton kimono into place. She was surprised that her hands did, indeed, have memory. Her last practice was in the winter of 2019. She was eleven then.

She emerged from behind the screen, changed. Her silk sash was knotted in a tidy bow, and her tabi-clad feet shuffled, gliding on the smooth wood floor of the practice hall. I notice her body is as polyglot as she is. I marvel at how she can seamlessly switch from volleyball mode to traditional dance, the same way she’s able to move from English to Japanese or French.

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I feel down on myself sometimes, stretched so thin. On rare occasions, I feel down about being a solo parent and not yet at the level of resources I had pre-divorce or regaining the time I once had. I’m not always able to give my daughter everything I’d like to. But I’m proud and quite happy with what I can provide: glimpses into multiple, varying worlds she can choose to travel between. A myriad of languages to travel with. And love to carry her/me/us through.
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Code-switching in Japan

I like to speak in the Kyoto dialect when I’m in Kyoto. An invisible shield, it protects me.

Kyotoites are kind to students and foreigners and notorious for their curtness and passive-aggressiveness toward Japanese who are not from Kyoto. Here too, I'm an outsider.

Cab drivers treat me respectfully when I speak Kyoto. They call me okusan, or Ma'am, Madame. When I don’t code-switch, they call me oneh-chan: mademoiselle, big sister, or girl. Being called oneh-chan is like being called mademoiselle in Paris: a back-handed insult for a woman of a certain age. I can’t entirely agree with the rationale, but I get it.

I code-switched on this trip. The reward: a jolly cab driver reminded me that the monthly Toji antique market was on Friday. Toji! It’s arguably the best antique fair in Japan.
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Question from You: Final Five

I love hearing from you. A reader and fellow writer wrote to ask whether I have a public answer for the questions I posed at the end of the last two installments. (Thank you, Alina!) The questions for you were:
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From Afterimage 28:

From Afterimage 29:

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I do. I have a public answer.

When my friend Katy first asked this question, I was amused my answers were vastly more banal compared to my friends. Their last days were exciting, crossing off bucket list items and visiting dream destinations. I mainly wanted to stay home. It made me feel dull, and maybe for the first time, I sensed the gaps in our age and life stages, with 10+ years, the experience of marriage/childbirth/divorce between us. But I was adamant in my decision to keep my days spacious and avoid long-haul travel. I wanted mellow and calm, grounding and restful.

Today, I’d answer along the same lines. What I see when I imagine the last five days: I am spending time with my family and the people I love, resting, relaxing, and laughing over good meals—listening to good music—and keeping my consumption of anything mood-altering substances to a minimum, except for food, coffee, and tea.

To the answer I gave four years ago, I’d add and expand:

We're surrounded by profound nature. It gives us great hikes, open thermal baths, starry night skies for sharing stories, and a warm fire to keep us warm. There is incredible beauty, craftsmanship, comfort, and care in the space we spend time together. I'd guess we're in rural Japan, maybe even Hokkaido, on my island. I cuddle in twos or a cuddle puddle after meals. Every guest has an invitation to an early morning meditation which ends with us greeting the morning sun, a cup of chai, and a beautiful day ahead of us, either together or apart.

I'd also create time for myself to:

• Let the people I love know they are loved and why I love them so.
• Tell my daughter I love her. Remind her she is worthy.
• Tell my daughter everything will work out.
• Tell my daughter to dump the tchotchkes. Keep none of the kimonos.
• Have an AMA in front of the fire.
• Tell my daughter to keep only what she will actually use, or things that give her joy, now.

I might write a letter to the one or two people I’ve cut ties with to let them know they are forgiven. And that the best gift they can give to themselves is to forgive themselves. I’m not sure that’s more for me than for them, but no matter.

That’s pretty much it.

There is one thing I would change, though: I’d make the timeframe five weeks instead of five days.

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Question for You: Does changing five days to five weeks change anything for you?

There’s a second part to what Katy said. A proposal: "Take everything you’ve described for your final five days, and do it - make it real - in the next five years."

Your vision for your last five days or weeks: would you commit to this vision over the next five years? What might get in the way? What/Who will help you to realize them?

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