Asking for A Friend: Do you Trust in Science? Or Nature?

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For two years now, we have faced an unexpected, unknown monster. COVID and its various forms have surprised and challenged all of us. Each of our lives is reeling from different interactions from the novel pandemic. In April 2020, the American Embassy sent a chilling email to Americans living in Japan. They suggested Americans leave the country immediately or hunker down for some indefinite period.

Initially, I chose to stay in Japan. My life in Tokyo was clean, low-tension, and bike-friendly; an excellent place to lay low. In Japan, ex-pats left, social life dried up, and the calendar became riddled with canceled events. New strands & COVID scares kept people home. I found new hobbies and took long, solo walks. As time wore on, the discomforts in my Tokyo life grew, as did a longing to see my family. In the early summer of 2021, when shots were available for Tokyo residents, I urgently took my first vaccine. Pre-Olympics, at least half of Tokyo was still unvaccinated. By August 2021, I was ready to face and see a different world. When I left Tokyo, I naively expected last summer to be the end of this conundrum.

Sunsetting

Hawaiian Shocks

Before heading back to the continental USA, I wanted to prepare myself for reverse culture shock and thought stopping here on the Big Island of Hawaii would help. Instead, when I first arrived in August 2021, I got a new culture shock. So many stores and restaurants here seemed oblivious to COVID. I went into a south island coffee shop with some acquaintances and nearly had a panic when I noticed no one was masked. I ended up stepping outside to keep my cool. Later on that first trip, we drove through Hilo where I saw a city block of anti-vaxxers holding demonstrations.

The few times I engaged in honest conversations with COVID deniers, I saw Swiss-cheese logic in place for the fundamentals of reasoning. For the sanctity of my surroundings, I did not push for agreements. Instead, I just started listening. In trying to understand and know this place, I noticed an aversion to the mainland. People moved to this remote island to find a place that is not America, but still is technically in America. I see a distrust of the government, disdain for nosy neighbors, and a strange disregard for science. Here, the appreciation for science is limited to the bounties of fruits in nature. This part of Hawaii island, the Kau region, also has an outsized share of poverty, hunger, and homelessness.

This island gave me an actual culture shock. A few words, overheard from my time here: —Why should I pay the DMV $200 to register my car? — I pay for snacks with my EBT, but will pay cash for the beers. — Let me advise you on cars, but I don’t believe anyone’s expertise on anything else.

Mask, eh?

Team Science?

Growing up in a family of doctors, I take a different attitude towards expertise—especially medicine. My mother, raising two children, returned to school to get credentialed to continue practicing medicine in Georgia. My sister and I were lucky. For minor coughs and fevers, our doctor-Mom could fix us up without visiting the clinic. Did the rest of the world forget that modern medicine has reduced human suffering, increased our lifespan, and sometimes improved the quality of that lifespan?

But, of course, American medical treatment is costly, bloated, and skewed towards a defensive practice of medicine. Perhaps the companion to our medical industry, the pharmaceuticals eroded some trust after all those ads suggesting you nudge your doctor into a prescription. After working towards better health in my own life, I hear the loudest and most extreme anti-vax voices growing in adherents from the sheer rage. I get the rage (there is so much to rage about: voting rights, a social safety net, women’s issues, climate change, to name a few), but I also have a certain respect for biology.

How Does This Even Work?

Nonetheless, our general knowledge of science is relatively low for an increasingly technologized world. Unsurprisingly, our health is poor, and as a country, we have suffered an enormous loss of life in the last two years. Ironically, the country still has to import doctors, engineers, and scientists to keep our high-tech industry competitive. Our attachment to the luxuries of technology only matches our distrust of science here.   At this moment, we can re-examine our lives. I love the audacity of Naomi Klein’s perspective in the Shock Doctrine. Can we use this moment to learn how we might re-align priorities? How about education, health care, and genuine housing equality. These factors undermining general public health come from poor public education, a distrust for science, and a disrespect for the government. The anti-vacciners seem to be right at this subset.

Reflecting on MLK Day: James Baldwin & Last Year’s Insurrection

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This Martin Luther King Day, I am reflecting on Dr. King’s legacy while still wondering about the mob attack on the Capitol last year. The mob, led by a demagogue, carried to the symbolic heart of our democracy the fire of America’s unaddressed spiritual crisis. The joint tensions of race, class, and social change fueled the rage of these angry white men. The work of James Baldwin, Dr. Martin Luther King’s contemporary, can shed insight on the rage of the mob. Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time diagnoses our current predicament with the juxtaposition of history, myth, and an understanding of our personal American psyche.


James Baldwin & Dr. Martin Luther King:
They Did Not Always See Eye to Eye

Though first published in 1964, Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time can shed light on the psycho-spiritual issues in America today.  Baldwin’s work provides insight into how contemporary race relations grow from the country’s history and how this history has tainted our social relations. While Baldwin is searing in his criticism for America, he also has an unshakable hope for the country.  His optimism is rooted in our capacity for spiritual growth. Baldwin suggests that the black & white souls of America must work together to resolve our racist pollution.  The way out of our mess requires confronting the same venom that led to the Capitol mob on January 6, 2021.  We must face our past injustices, our current inequality, and our national psyche.

An Unmitigated Disaster

In early January 2021, I was re-reading The Fire Next Time when I saw that Baldwin’s language could speak directly to the attempted coup of January 6, 2021:

“…the political institutions of any nation are always menaced and are ultimately controlled by the spiritual state of that nation.  We are controlled here by our confusion, far more than we know, and the American dream has therefore become something much more closely resembling a nightmare, on the private, domestic, and international levels.  Privately, we cannot stand our lives and dare not examine them; domestically, we take no responsibility for (and no pride in) what goes on in our country; and, internationally, for many millions of people, we are an unmitigated disaster” (emphasis added).

The tarnished American dream, seen on private, domestic, and international levels, grows from our unconfronted past.  Baldwin points to America’s early history as the origin of our crisis.  The American experiment began on lands taken by force and then cultivated by slave labor.  This violation of humanity and land speaks to America’s imperialist roots.  We have used stories of chivalry and the white man’s burden to appease the victors’ conscience.  We have scrubbed away our guilt in the washed-out versions of American history in high-school textbooks. Irrespective of the justifications provided, this pillaging of land and humans requires a blatant disregard for indigenous cultures, ways of life, and belief systems. For the sake of profit, an entire empire was built. The profiteering at the onset of our country set the pace for our current breakdown.

Our Injustices

              In the book’s first essay, Baldwin addresses his nephew: “You were born into a society which spelled out with brutal clarity, and in as many ways as possible, that you were a worthless human being.  You were expected to make peace with mediocrity.” In America, without a doubt, the cards are stacked against blacks. Housing is the clearest example of America’s inequalities. Many abroad wonder why the world’s most prosperous country has so many slums and ghettos.  A fascinating video based on the book, The Color of Law, by Richard Rothstein points at how the federal government has helped create the defacto housing segregation we see now.  Our various other inequalities illustrate a pattern of systemic injustice.

             Baldwin shows with heart-breaking tenderness the spiritual consequences of racial prejudice.  Baldwin writes, “One did not have to be abnormally sensitive to be worn down to a cutting edge by the incessant and gratuitous humiliation and danger one encountered every working day, all day long.” A life of indignity compounds the difficulties of an adult trying to earn a living to support his family.  A poignant example is the helplessness a black parent feels when they cannot prepare their child for the cruelty of the outside world.  There can be no compelling explanation for why police might beat up a 7-year-old child or why that child may be called `boy` well into his adulthood. The psychological effect of this implicit oppression cuts deep.

              Baldwin’s insight parallels the lessons from Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Without a sense of security in life’s necessities, individuals cannot rise to their full potential.  Before arriving at self-actualization, we need a sense of psychological safety and reliable daily bread. The injustices of police brutality, social prejudice, and overt hatred gnaw away at the very peace of mind required to truly blossom. While there are outstanding examples of individuals rising above their circumstances, for many the path to flourishing is obscured. In this way, Baldwin carries forward an extended metaphor. Imagine when an entire community is subject to the whims of white supremacy.  Indeed, imagination is not required; we see examples of the wreckage every day. American society does not provide her black citizens the psychic space to self-actualize. Many blacks worked through the toughest odds to self-actualize in a meaningful way. Nonetheless,  for generations, the nation has used its collective energy to suppress the full humanity of its people.  This loss is magnified in America on a much larger scale, from the individual to our dominant culture.  

A Difficult Identity

For Baldwin, the social identity of whites in America is dangerously linked to the subjugation of others. He writes that American mythology places the white man at the top of the social hierarchy. In our status-anxious society, whiteness is a mark of higher social standing. In this world, color represents stability, success, and predictability. Any move, then, towards equality is threatening to those at the top.

A groundswell of new activism suggests that the social order is changing. The mob on January 6 represents an angry reaction to shifts in our race relations.  The first psychological response to that threat is existential fear. In turn, those benefiting from the status quo are awash in fear and insecurity about the new world. Our national non-response to the mob of January 6 suggests our difficulty awakening to a more egalitarian world. The country’s lackadaisical response to the insurrection reflects the calloused soul at the heart of our institutions.  Our spiritual crisis will be unresolved while a contingent of America is uncomfortable with being social equals with a black man.  

Baldwin demands, “We, the black and white, deeply need each other here if we are really to become a nation.” We must go beyond our reason and logic. We must address one another through brotherhood.  We have that capacity within us.  The angry mob of January 6, 2021 was pointing to our problem.  Can we look within ourselves to expand our idea of America?   Baldwin writes, “It demands great spiritual resilience not to hate the hater whose foot is on your neck, and an even greater miracle of perception and charity to teach your child not to hate.” This depth of psychological understanding, emotional intelligence, and generosity of heart is just the start.  Baldwin’s solution and power come from reaching for our shared humanity.  It is necessary.  Can we hold a vision of a more just and equal America? This wealthy nation has a whole group wanting to see a better version of the country. Where could we all be if we saw race as fiction?  Who has it in their heart to hold such hope? Imagine what we could be if we shook out the fear in our insides and turned that energy into helping one another confront the struggles of life.  Ultimately, Baldwin’s insights are the starting place to see America in the context of history. It is within ourselves that we must ask the hard questions about our prejudice, injustice, and inequalities. The mob last year was seeking out a better America. Through great courage, we can work on that together.

The Love of Flowers: Pandemic Survival

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The city of Tokyo began imposing pandemic restrictions just as Japan’s most awaited season arrived. In early spring, groups of families, friends, and co-workers normally gather in parks to drink and picnic under fleeting cherry blossoms. At my local Inokashira park, all such places were taped off. Signs screamed: No access, and no gathering. Instead of socializing under the cherry blossoms, I chased floral motifs on drain hole covers for a while. Still, I needed fresh flowers to truly cope with lockdowns and isolation.

I often pause along my way to touch, smell or photograph pretty blooms.

Flowers have some magnetic power over me. One of my earliest childhood memories includes pulling over on the side of the road so I could pick yellow and pink lantanas. In the summer after high school, my parents gifted me a month-long course in floral design. From those lessons, I have arranged flowers for countless family events. While I was in Japan, I took a few ikebana classes to diversify my style. In that long slow, first COVID spring, I began buying flowers more often. I bought flowers for myself and shared arrangements with friends. I bought them to keep my spirit alive.

We humans have a special relationship with flowers. Flowers are known to create long and short-term positive effects on mood. Since records are available, flowers have been used at celebrations of life milestones. Michael Pollan writes eloquently on how flowers have used us to spread their reach. Across the globe, writers and poets have long found inspiration in flowers.

While it is lovely to have arrangements of fancy flowers, just the momentary appreciation of a flower is a look into the divine.

In The Doors to Perception, Aldous Huxley writes, “That what rose and iris and carnation so intensely signified was nothing more, and nothing less, than what they were – transience that was yet eternal life, a perpetual perishing that was at the same time pure Being, a bundle of minute, unique particulars in which, by some unspeakable and yet self-evident paradox, was to be seen the divine source of all existence.”                       

Blooming in Hawaii

Since the pandemic shut us into smaller quarters, and without as many social gatherings, the entire flower industry has been up-ended. It is with this backdrop that I was invited to teach a community course in floral design. I whole-heartedly crafted a course to make design accessible to anyone. I am grateful to have a place to share this life-enriching practice. Simply by taking the time to appreciate this natural beauty, we can nourish our souls.

My simple reminder is this poem I wrote, A Rose Meditation.

A Rose Meditation

If you cannot touch Gods beauty in your heart

Let a rose meditation be your start

When she tickles your nose, be sure

It is the path to know God’s art.

In her fragrant kiss, she might leave

A small yellow trace of her embrace,

A reminder we need to slow our pace.

Under her spell, we feel dignity and grace

All God’s creation has a place.

Please enjoy nature’s original art! Thank you for reading.

A Contemplation at Gear Shifts

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At the very start of 2022, I am full of reflections on the year past and ambitions for the new year ahead. The year behind us was filled with changes for me. I left the JET program which brought me to Japan. I left Tokyo to roam in tourist-free Kyoto early last year which refreshed my love of slower-paced living. Then, I returned to Tokyo as an adjunct professor for Temple University. I taught remotely for the fall so I could return to North America for a visit to family & friends. I made it to meet my niece just as she turned one! I met with my bereaved cousins in Calgary and a new cousin-in-law in Toronto.

Along the way to the Americas from Japan, I stopped in Hawaii. This place, the Big Island, just floored me with its beauty. Perhaps it was the water vistas or the flowers everywhere. The wild horses in Waipio or the monk seal that happened to be up on the beach. Everywhere I turned, it felt like magic. When I left, I dreamt about Hawaii. I could not shake the idea that I must go back.

Hawaii is quite literally my definition of paradise. I just could not resist returning. I am making a home here, bit by bit. I see 2022 as a year to dig deep, create roots, and live in the community. My hopes center around working on two arts in a creative, inspiring place. In the coming year, I hope to share my two arts: writing and floral designs touched with some magic from this place.

Until then, I am literally changing gears in a beater around the big Island of Hawaii. My first car in over 4 years is bringing about lots of learnings. I bring on my journey both gratitude and compassion. Through my love for nature, and never-ending love for adventure have brought me to the fulfillment of many life dreams. The momentum is giving me force to chase more.

From a place that feels so full, I wish you all the best on your journey in 2022. Thank you for reading!