Last Tuesday was Dontosai, which in essence for me is a huge bonfire near the Shiogama Shrine. Every year people buy charms from the friendly neighborhood shinto shrine. Each charm has a specific function. For instance, the good driving charm is usually in the form of a sticker and can be found on the cars of those who buy one. There are charms for health, wealth, general good luck, exams, work, love, and as I found out recently pregnancy. A pink pouch on a white string is supposed to ward off evil while a small ceramic dog places overlooking your bed should ensure a fast, painless delivery. I shrug at these as I wound up on bed rest for 3 months of the 8 month pregnancy and the delivery was very painfully, but also wonderfully short. On the up side, she was and is healthy, so it could have been significantly worse.
Anyway, on to Dontosai. During the first week of January, every good shintoist visits a shrine and buys the new charms for the new year. Then, a few weeks later, these people gather the charms from the previous year (in a nice big paper bag if they're smart) and head off to the bonfire. I have come to the conclusion that the act of burning the charms is a way of giving the luck back to the gods and saying thanks for whatever luck they provided that year. My husband seemed to agree, so this is the notion I'm sticking with.
Of course I am up for this thing. I'm not really religious in any direction, but a fire in the winter up here is almost always welcome. Also, it is said that one warmed by the fires of Dontosai can't get ill for the following year. The funny thing is that following Dontosai last year, both my husband and I caught a virus, but that is neither here nor there. There's a big fire or two and chocolate covered bananas to be bought. We had to go.
So my husband and I walked up a monsterous number of stairs. Since he has a better sense of balance and less weight, he wore the baby carrier and walked with me stumbling breathlessly beside him. I really do need to get into better shape.
When we finally got there we saw the fire in what I know now is it's usual place. As I stared into it, the bonfire casts bits of these old charms--embers and scraps of flaming paper; thin ashen chunks with the last lick of flaming orange lining slowly receding-- up into the air. For some reason, I drifted back to a phase of thought I'd last visited as a teen on the shores of Galveston Island, theorising that humans are like waves in that some crest too early and are devoured by others while others crest perfectly at their apex and still some never crest at all.
These flaming bits of ash spoke to me too, fifteen years later. Maybe that's what we are-- bits of drifting flame helplessly drifting with the winds of change and landing where we will. But some don't even get off the pile. Some burn and smolder there, finding their brightest and darkest moments in the same spot. Others drift so far so fast that they burn out unseen and far from home. Still others come up into a glorious arch, tasting the realm of birds before plummeting back to the fire.
Admittedly, if we were all flaming bits of paper flying through the air, it would be terrifying and crowded. Also very dangerous to any non-flaming-paper-bits.
All of this brings us to a recent revelation-- I like living in Japan.
That's not to say I didn't enjoy it before. After five and a half years, you'd think I would have adjusted more. I moved here with purpose, which then was to master the language and have some adventures before I was saddled with a spouse, children, and mortgage. Instead I met a fascinating man and had some different adventures than expected, including What Happens When Your Company Goes Under in Japanese and Living with Your Potential Future In-Laws. And maybe it's this most recent adventure, Bed Rest Pregnancy in Japanese, that has pulled me more solidly into this country.
It could also be that I have recently started making friends I don't work with, and since I stopped teaching I don't actually work with anyone but Julia. Most likely the cause is my new found lack of employment. I've been given a chance to take a breath and make a real life out here for me and my little family. I'm not trying to cram as many Japanese experiences as I can into a short time with the idea that I'll be leaving soon. I also no longer find it necessary to hide in my apartment (also known as my Texas Bubble) quite as much as I used to. When I go to the grocery store now, I have actually started looking for produce and products I can use instead of what I readily recognize.
It's amazing how much of the world you lose when you keep the blinders of familiarity firmly in place.
Finally, at long last, I think I like it here.
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