no 36

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

I turned fifty. It feels normal in the greatest of ways. It feels great in the most normal of ways.

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

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Early Messages

My earliest birthday wishes this year arrived ahead of my actual birthday: thanks for writing me about Afterimage!

When I asked you to write, I didn’t fully understand how important it would be to hear from you. You gave me good reminders of why I write. Many of you offered:

Connected. Thoughtful. Honest. Gentle, and these beautiful images by Nicolai Howalt.

I loved hearing Afterimage reminds you of receiving letters through the post.

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When I left New York for Tokyo in 1996, I wrote to two or three friends a week. It was before I had an email account.

My weekend routine was catching up on much-needed sleep, seeing friends, and heading out early on Sundays to Harajuku or Shimokitazawa before the noon crowds. I’d find a cafe for a bite and a good coffee to fuel my letter writing.

I wrote on airmail paper, the crepe-thin, almost weightless paper designed for cheaper postage than letters written on standard stationery. I liked its translucent and almost transparent quality.

I drew and sketched on a couple of sheets and wrote about the design and food around me in Tokyo in the margins. I scribbled my thoughts in blue ink wherever there was space.

But mostly, I wrote about my observations as a new transplant to Tokyo. I wrote about what it felt like to “pass” as Japanese and how passing is not the same as belonging. I wrote to my friends, but I was also writing to myself.

Today, it’s the same. I’m writing to us: to you, and through you, to me. So maybe Afterimage is an extension of these letters from when I was 25, fast-forwarded 25 years.

While I’m no longer new to Japan, I still have countless and constant sources of newness around me. Some are subtle. Others, not so. I meet new people and get to work with them. I’m witness to sudden, new-and-bewildering-to-me signs of development in my teenage daughter’s body, brain, and expressions. My new house offers me daily opportunities to rethink what it means to live well and share spaces with family. (It changes over time!) I get to consider how to design and inhabit spaces to create a better experience of life. The dramatic changes we experience in the weather here in Hokkaido confront me to make immediate decisions about how I want to spend the day or prepare for the next.

It’s defining what matters now and finding the setup, routines, and practices to integrate so I can honor what matters.

(Architects and designers: I'd love to hear your thoughts on space, habits/how we inhabit them, and designing a life.)

Growing up, I was busy observing and adopting what had high social currency around me, at the expense of listening to what I needed in a given moment. It was a way to adapt to new school and social environments and to survive the constant change. But, unfortunately, old habits die hard; even though my life is different now, old beliefs (I don't belong here), the tactics used to shield me from danger or fear in the short term (not being myself), and the brain wiring that supported me through my past fears stayed with me. For decades.

Thanks to all the experiences from my forties– both life-affirming and devastating– I can focus on what matters to me today. I can put myself in the middle.

50 is a milestone. A mindset. It’s freeing in the most understated of ways. My milestone came at 50. If you're ready and willing, don't wait for the milestone to give yourself the mindset.

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Christmas in Japan

Katy, Elizabeth, on audio: “How’s your day so far? How was your birthday?”

Me: “Well. It feels like Christmas in Japan.”

:::

Christmas, while ultra-significant for many people around the world, is an ordinary workday here in Japan. Think Valentine’s Day: there’s a lot of commercial frenzy, excitement for those who celebrate, and freedom from convention and expensive restaurant bookings for those who don’t. It’s a typical day, for the most part.

One of the greatest gifts of the last year was to shift into a deeper understanding and experience that I matter. It's as if all the tools I've learned through therapy and coaching or the professional education I've had as a coach is integrating at a deeper level.

I’ve celebrating each day leading up to and continuing beyond my birthday . By celebrating, I mean in small ways: allowing myself to sleep in, having a sugary marron glacé with my tea in the morning, or opting out of a morning healing meditation if it conflicts with something else and cramps my day. All of this is a celebration given I was formatted in largely restrictive ways as a child: my default I've recently noticed, is to withhold from myself. These small celebrations to be generous, or to focus on permission and progress over perfection feel great. I feel calm. It gives me more bandwidth.

The people in my closest circle give me much love, care, and attention daily. And something radical to me? I’ve started to give myself more attention and care than I’ve ever allowed.

I feel so loved regularly; I'm not feeling the need for a big fancy occasion to remind myself I matter. A party would be a small add-on to the everyday expressions of love I give and receive.

That said, maybe this is the year to gather and celebrate in some way. My friend Emilie's given me until December 31, 2023, to do something about it. I'm going to do it.

I’ll get back to you on this one.

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Afterparty

Questions for you: This issue felt like a birthday party to me! Thanks for coming. Your time and attention to this conversation mean a lot to me.

Here’s a little party favor! I want to share a goody bag of questions that helps me pause to observe or gain clarity whenever I feel a little frazzled facing something new.

⫸　Start with an affirmation.

Use any affirmation that supports you with new experiences or experiences you have yet to allow yourself until now. You can use one you've created or one that you've found.

With my eyes closed, taking a few deep breaths with hands on heart, I usually say out loud:

"Newness is a gift and a friend that allows me to notice without judgment. Experiencing newness helps me to chart my course toward (what I want) ."

⫸　The Newness Questions.

…what’s coming up right now for me in this encounter?

…what am I enjoying in this new friendship?

…what makes me uncomfortable when confronted with the unexpected?

…how do I respond when I notice discomfort? Do I turn away or toward it? How?

…how am I redesigning my habits and routines for what I actually need and want?

…what am I rethinking and redefining right now? Why?

…what actions am I taking to align myself to what I observe is true for me today?

:::

Let me know if any of the questions resonate. Sharing them here with you, I’m noticing they could probably be organized in a circular flow chart. What do you think?

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Fifty, Unfiltered

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