Tag Archives: america

A Year In Atlanta: Home, Community, and Work

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Magic Is Something You Make

My journal cover exclaims, “Magic is something you make.” It has been a year and a week since I returned to Atlanta. The moments I recorded in my journal attest to the magic and mayhem of my making. The past week in review speaks to the efforts of the year. On Tuesday, April 11, 2023, I led 15 hungry cyclists to my favorite Indian restaurant in Decatur. That Thursday, I added a third bookshelf to the collection at my townhouse. On Saturday, by dumb chance and good luck, I spent an afternoon sailing Lake Lanier with friends. Finally, I joined local Bike Grid enthusiasts for a slow roll up Peachtree Street Sunday. The magic is ON, and I continue to cast a few designs forward.

Bikers Can Boat

On April 11, 2022, I shipped my collection of old journals and mementos from my ex-boyfriend’s apartment in Tokyo to my mother’s home in Tucker. Shortly after that, at customs & control in Narita, I turned in my Japanese residence card. Then, with both anxiety and goals as carry-ons, I set off to my hometown. My three-prong goals for Atlanta were: to make a home, participate in the community, and to do meaningful work. Here are my thoughts on a few critical magic milestones from this return.

1. Home

For the first five months of my return, I took up a garden-facing room at my mother’s house. Over the pandemic and in Japan, I had longed for an oven. Beyond that, my ideas of home were transformed by my experience going from a 1,100 square foot house (Bluffton, South Carolina) to a 200 square foot efficiency (Suginami-ku, Tokyo). The Atlanta I returned to was (is?) in a white-hot housing market. Things were expensive and going fast. I wanted something cozy and inside the perimeter.

Eventually, I bought a townhouse in a Chamblee-area community to store my books and souvenirs. In this complex, I can hear birds chirp from nearby woods while I drink coffee in the mornings. On the grounds in the rear of the property is a park that follows a creek that later connects to more water. This place is a great place to get my footing.

2. Community

In pre-COVID Tokyo, I was part of a thriving international community of ex-pats. My social silence grew as our gathering spaces and social outlets diminished post-Pandemic. I missed eavesdropping in the grocery line and making conversations with strangers. On returning to America, I looked forward to creating and being in community again.

Desi Decatur Ride

Through a CouchSurfing(CS) event last summer, I made friends with a group of the Atlanta cycling community. Through group riding here, I have found another sort of home. Atlanta by bike looks different. I began to appreciate the nitty-gritty needs for cycle infrastructure. On the Beltline, cruising through the newly connected areas of Atlanta, it is much easier to see historically underfunded areas in the grip of gentrification. My cyclist amigos share a sense of civic duty. We made good chit-chat with a city official on our Sunday ride. As we deepen community relationships through fun and advocacy, I suspect I will continue to appreciate the new takes on Atlanta.

 

 

3. Meaningful Work

When I left the US in 2017, I was tired of the direct services legal work I had been doing in southern Georgia (across the river from Bluffton, SC, where I lived at the time). Thankfully, the sabbatical from law practice (and respite from Trump) brought me a new way to examine my professional capabilities. From there, I found joy in teaching, coaching, and consulting.

Along the Beltline

Time in Tokyo also transformed what I dared to envision for Atlanta (granted, Atlanta may never be as progressive. It sits in red Georgia, after all.) Upon my return last year, I started attending seminars at the intersection of housing and justice. I volunteered for a conference where I met GSU Professor and Housing Scholar Dan Immergluck and got a copy of his book Red Hot City. Atlanta’s car-centeredness points to the complex interplay of transport, housing, and access. In another seminar, I crossed paths with an old Atlanta CS friend who was Dan’s student and just finished his master’s in urban studies. At such a seminar, I learned about the movement to Stop Cop City. Finally, through the right partnerships, I feel lucky to have identified work for a community-based small-scale developer in Atlanta bringing affordable housing to under-developed parts of the city.

4. Tough Stuff

One of the most challenging parts of my move has been the saga of my journals. Since age 7, I have intermittently written words in journals to deal with life, changes, and reflections. In Tokyo, I took on the task of reading and notating about 25 lbs of handwritten diaries. Unfortunately, those journals I sent from Japan last year did not make it to Tucker—thanks to the US Postal Service. Then, to add salt to the wound, my family lost three generations of jewelry in a burglary from my mother’s home around Christmas time. As I figure out how to carry these losses, I am grateful that I can still appreciate what is in front of me now.

Boats or Bikes?

From my complex’s backwoods, we can eventually get to Briarcliff Road. My family has lived on various parts of this road during our 30+ years in Atlanta. If you take Briarcliff Road and travel on it south, you can eventually see the changes brought about by the Beltline. In a sense, I rode back home without knowing precisely what it would bring.

Opening up to a breeze can refresh your room or your life. The capacity to restore is at the heart of my beliefs and hopes about home. To live as you dream requires determination. It helps to have supporters and to build in community. Reflecting on the intermittent roller coaster of the last year, I feel blessed to have found a warm sense of community. After long perseverance, I am engaged in work that I believe makes the world a better place. Finally, as I continue my personal mission of flourishing to the bounds of my human potential, I hope to make more time to write and share as I organize, educate, and empower.

Fun with Flowers

Are You A White Supremacist?

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Are you a white supremacist?  I found myself wondering on Memorial Day as I walked through Helen, Georgia with my mom & stepdad.  Along the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the town of Helen is an alpine-themed getaway for many city folks.  This past weekend Helen was a meeting of two Georgias, two Americas.  Spanish-speaking families gathered for cookouts along the green grass in the riverside city park.  The public park was alive with people enjoying the Memorial Day holiday while watching merry tubers float down the river.

Not far from this scene, a restaurant called Cowboys & Angels had live music.  The musician, Joe, was sitting in full Americana regalia, from an American flag button-up shirt, cowboy hat with an American flag rim, and shiny American buckle.  He sang country classics to a crowd wearing their own American regalia.  All these people united under the banner of a meal, but for how long?  Until someone is angry or disappointed, and this place turns into a death scene?

Can you blame me for this concern?  On our way up from Atlanta that day, we passed numerous signs for a candidate running for US Congress with the image of an AR-15 underneath his name.  His only campaigning was the image of this gun.  Is it fear-mongering or the symbolism of a desperate America?  We also passed churches with little American flags along the yard.  The awnings of many churches were covered with `Welcome` printed on top of American flags.  It had me wondering, does this mean the church welcomes you only if you are American?  What does it mean to be American to these folks?  What version of America qualifies?

Are these the signs of supremacy?  A little less doom scrolling is absolutely in order.  But after the white supremacist attack in Buffalo, New York, and the incomprehensible school shooting in Uvalde, Texas, I have to wonder, is a small town in Georgia next?  Can I know that this type of violence won’t happen where I go?  I am afraid it is hard to rule out the possibilities.

Our American epidemic of gun violence is unequaled, unchecked, and problematic.  The ideologies behind mass shootings are grounded in racism, power, and hatred.  While we know that banning assault rifles worked in the past, it is not often mentioned in the public sphere.  Interviews with NRA spokespeople seem circular and mind-boggling.  I could recall that the history of this country is steeped in violence.  The profit motive ultimately drives us.  From there, where will we get the motivation to take this problem head-on?

Instead, defenseless children are being asked to prepare for active shooter drills.  That `solution` itself is looking at this problem as an inevitability.  That is AFTER someone has arrived armed at a school.  The situation in Uvalde is itself a horror.  The students did have this training.  It was the police that failed them.  Where then can we turn for help?

From the comfort of my home, I have pondered.  Yes, we have (a fraudulent application of) the second amendment.  Nonetheless, most Americans want some form of legislation for gun safety. One great article that covers this issue in depth is To Change Mass Shooting (Truthout). A deep soul searching is in order.

We never know where it will be safe to hang out.  Can I go grocery shopping or teach in peace?  I can wither away in my angst, or I can take action.  Democracy survives on citizen action.  I will attend the March for Our Lives in Atlanta.  There will be many other locations where this March is going on.  We, the people working for a more perfect union must make our voices heard.  Even if it requires uncomfortable, non-violent confrontation.  The alternative, to live constantly in fear, is not acceptable.

Walking Into Armageddon

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I am not sure if it is reverse culture shock or if I am just dismayed at the state of America. The reaction is physical. There is a tightening in my chest, pounding in my veins, and a stiffening of my body. Returning to American life has its challenges, just watching the local news here can be panic-inducing. Yet, though things around me seem hard, I am determined to keep the edges of my heart soft. Here are a few conundrums and my salves:

Un – Panicked!

Problems At Home

Inflation is easy to spot in America. Initially, there is sticker shock! A 5-year-old used car costs nearly as much as a new 2022. That is if you can get your hands on a 2022. Supply chain issues have created delivery delays. Thus, used cars are being sold for double what they would have cost 2-3 years ago. Housing prices in America have seen the highest year-on-year appreciation on record. There have been at least 20% increases in valuation in some areas. When I compare costs in Japan, they have more or less stayed the same over four years. Here in the US, most things have risen in price.

SCAMMERS

As more public services in America are privatized, the room for consumer confusion is high. In Atlanta, scammers are purporting to be the police department. At my mother’s home, I see (post) mail with misleading notices on the cover. Some notices pretend to be from a trusted health care provider, insurance company, or the federal government. Once you open the post, you see the words hedging or all-out different from the external warning. “You MAY be eligible for” or “please call one of our agents.” Lots of these advertisements would confuse an older adult in a hurry. It feels like everyone is trying to take a bite out of you.

With all this going on around me, I sometimes struggle to keep anxiety in check. I do not shrink from the world. But I am not too proud to seek help. These are some of the tools I use to keep my peace of mind in check.  

Deeper Resonance

I often notice that anxiety only builds up in me when I struggle internally. It is almost a catch-22. The door of the internal home is porous! So when I need to reconnect with inner peace, here are a few guides I tune in to.

The Lotus Grows From Murky Water

1. A Spiritual Perspective

The Power of Now is a classic; I have gifted Eckhart Tolle’s work numerous times. It was first given to me during my PTSD. Over a decade later, I still revisit it and find bits of wisdom. To my above whines, a healthy dose of Tolle:

“See if you can catch yourself complaining, in either speech or thought, about a situation you find yourself in, what other people do or say, your surroundings, your life situation, even the weather. To complain is always non-acceptance of what ‘is’. It invariably carries an unconscious negative charge. When you complain, you make yourself into a victim. When you speak out, you are in your power. So change the situation by taking action or by speaking out if necessary or possible; leave the situation or accept it. All else is useless.”

Eckhart Tolle

This friendly reminder about the complaining or misalignment with the NOW is a jolt. While I can take ACTION to resolve the concern, staying discontented with how things are is not doing me any good!

A new online sensation is Tara Brach. Instead of focusing on only cultivating peace, one of her essential tools is to turn into what is kicking off anxieties. Through her RAIN practice (and the book on it), she suggests that you R-recognize, A-allow, I-investigate, and N-nurture what is going on. This practice allows you to see what is bothering you and be with it. Often just being with the source of concern will alleviate the pain. By investigating and nurturing, you can begin to arrive at any unmet needs that require tending.

I believe that spiritual teachers essentially bring us to an insight that was already living within us. This traveling to the understanding helps us create a healthy space for perspective.

If lectures and books are too cumbersome, nature, green leaves, and walks in the woods are my classic calming practice. I learned recently that knobby tree roots can provide an excellent foot massage!

Knobby Roots = Fun Grounding

Of course, writing is one of my solutions. 😊 Just physically writing down what I feel, in a private journal, creates a bit of space from internal tension. When self-directed is not available to me, I look for a prompt. An excellent Instagram account, the isolation journals, often has good ones. Recently, I answered, what would make it worth living through the apocalypse. Hugs, sunrises, and shorelines for me!

Through my recent shock, I learned that I could reawaken my own lessons of resilience. From the private comments of readers, I sense that others are looking for some similar forms of resolution. I hope that this piece will contribute to some relief and bring understanding to lessen someone else’s trouble.

Wishing you all a Zen-full day!

Welcome Back to America: Between Begonias & Construction

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“Where are you coming from today?” she demanded.

After so much anticipation on my return visit to America, the ICE officer’s tone was the opposite of what I expected from my first conversation. Going into secondary inspection immediately after arriving in America felt anticlimactic. After nearly two years of staying in the same country, I was so excited to visit America that I hadn’t considered any letdowns.

A tiny ikebana celebrating garden finds.

I explained myself to the lady: I have lived there (Japan) for four years. Ok. What do you do there? I am professor. What do you teach? Law. Japan is pretty safe, isn’t it? Yes, it is. Why is your bag so heavy? What is this? Pointing at my stacks of books. Do you have more than $10,000 USD cash in your bag? No. I wish. How much in yen do you have? About a $100 worth…. And then she looked through my carry-on purse too. She thanked me afterwards, as if I had any choice.

As I exited the terminal in Honolulu, I passed through the remaining lines without clear procedure and around clumps of confused people. I see already that I have become accustomed to Japan with her clear, demanding arrows to process human chaos.

“Where are you from?” is a loaded question. Do you mean “where was my body immediately before this?” “Where do I live now?” The origin of my ancestors? I often want to ask as a counter question, “What is it to you?”

Though I consider myself an open book, I have a special sensitivity to that question. I would love to think about this question, and could answer a sincere questioner with deep thoughts. However, most people who ask this question, “Where are you from?” are NOT actually interested in my origin story, my theory of self, or my immediate life situation. Some people are actually asking, in their own way, “What are YOU doing here?”

Thankfully, I stayed in the homes of friends and family during this pandemic. Familiar faces and a base of understanding! A few warm people can still show kindness despite valid fears about the pandemic. Inside these homes, I saw loved ones coming to terms with adjustments in their internal life. Realities have changed and attitudes with them.

And everywhere outside, everyone has new neighbors. In each place I stayed, from Hawaii, to along the western and eastern parts of Canada and the USA, residential home construction has accelerated. I found myself cautiously saving another great view in my mind’s eye in case it soon changes into a construction site. In due course then, I will get the chance to inquire, “Where are you from?” Except that, I want to hear all types of answers.