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1. Starting Line

This issue is dedicated to my wife's grandmother, Koma Matsuda, who passed away peacefully at 97 years old, on August 2, 2003.

2. Main course

I want to take this issue to dwell on the importance of appreciating our time on earth, and learning from those we are in relationship with. As usual for me, I will approach these contemplations by recalling some memories and telling a story or two.

My most enduring memory of my wife's grandmother is the first time that I went to her house to meet her. She was perhaps 81 years old at the time, and still rather sprite. My wife Hiroko rang the bell to her house and grandma called out for us to enter. In traditional Japanese houses there is an entranceway called a "genkan", where you take off your shoes and then step up to a hardwood floor leading into the house. With perfect timing (something grandma was always impeccable about) just as Hiroko opened the door to the house and we could just begin to see in, grandma was sliding down onto the hardwood floor to her hands and knees, to bow deeply to me. There was something very magical about this moment of greeting. Just the slightest glimpse of a serene face, fading into an image of grey hair immaculately gathered into a bun in the back, as she came to a temporary pause in her bowing, with her face perhaps about three inches above the floor. So amazing to be meeting someone without being able to gaze into their face. To be standing there while a person offers their complete supplication. Somehow very mysterious, as I couldn't help but wonder who she was, and what she was going to look like when I finally got a clear look at her face.

Grandma bobbed up from her bow and paused again for about two seconds, as if she was calmly raising her head above water, just long enough to get a necessary fresh supply of air. While still not yet actually looking at me, she then bobbed back down into her bow, repeating the whole process one more time, as I very much felt suspended in space, and time.

And suddenly I recall clearly how the words she spoke during that ritual, were in perfect timing with her bowing. "Thank you so much for everything." "Thank you for taking such good care of my granddaughter." "Thank you so much for being such a kind and wonderful human being." "Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to come and meet me." And all of this spoken in the first few moments of meeting, when "in reality" she was yet to have any idea if any of what she was saying was actually "true." Words spoken as a statement, but until this day I still wonder if such words, each time they are spoken in meetings and greetings, are not actually spoken as a liturgy of humble request. There was a time, much to the surprise of the rest of the family, when grandma got into calling me up about once a week, during the work day. First, she would apologize for interrupting me while I was "so busy". Soon after this, just as in our first meeting, she would thank me for my various kindnesses and excellent character traits. After which she would say a few words about "this and that" and then once again apologize for taking up my time. And just as I had formulated in my head something pleasant to say back in return, she would be off the line as suddenly as she had called. Like a wisp of a fresh breeze, leading one to hope for a change in the weather. After she had hung up I used to sit there and imagine why, when it was all said and done, she had called in the first place. Was she "just" being polite? Was she acting as my conscience, reminding me to be kind? Was she somehow wanting to connect with me in some personal way? I had and I have no way of knowing, and to ask her, would have been to ask the wrong question.

In Japanese culture, the person who is the most thankful for the good graces of their counterpart, is the person who bows the deepest and the longest. After meeting grandma a number of times I decided that unbeknownst to her, I would engage her in a bowing competition. I would find a way to bow deeper and longer than her, in order to show my gratitude to her. By this time her and I were knowing each other well enough to where she didn't always go down to her hands and knees to bow. Instead, when I entered her house, she would bow while standing up. It is interesting for me to think about this, because the first time she bowed while still standing, I felt as if I might have had done something to lessen her deep respect. In actuality, the fact that she remained standing was simply a way to let me know that we were becoming a bit more relaxed in our relationship. The occasion for visiting came along and I seized my chance. Grandma saw me and bowed deeply as usual, and then just as she was coming up for air, I bowed quite deeply back to her while thanking her for all of her many wonderful qualities. I stayed down in my bow as long as I thought I could without seeming unnatural, and then just as I was coming up, there was grandma going down in the opposite direction, bowing even a bit deeper than the first time, and once again mumbling many wonderful pleasantries. Not to be outdone, I waited patiently and just as she started up a second time, I went into my second dip, going down as she came up. I paused interminably at the bottom of my bow, and then slowly came back up once again, only to see her going back down. I am not sure how long we did this for, perhaps for about five rounds. It was as if we were connected to some sort of weights and pulley system, with her moving up requiring me to balance this with a down, and vice versa. All I know is that it became very clear to me that she was much better at this kind of thing than I would ever be. She broke my spirit in just one contest! I believe that one of the main differences between us at such times, was that I was thinking and she wasn't.

Anyone who was in the presence of grandma in a social context had the interesting experience of being closely watched, while not at all feeling scrutinized. She was finely attuned to being of service to her guests, and it felt as if she was shining a soft and pleasantly warm light on you. She was always noticing things like, which kind of rice cracker out of a varied collection, you liked the best, or which kind of fish, or vegetable you seemed to eat the most of. And then when you showed up at her house the next time, sure enough, she served you the stuff you liked the best! When I thought about how she always seemed to know what I liked most, it also quickly led me to wonder how much she also understood about what I didn't like. Not just in regard to food of course. I wondered if she was able to read my heart. I wondered how she thought I felt about her. Or did that thought ever even cross her mind? Perhaps liking and disliking was not the way she thought about people and relationships. I wondered if we were actually sharing intimacy, or perhaps simply able to read each other. As with many Japanese woman, grandma's first order of business was always to see that her guests were satisfied. The satisfaction of others always seemed to override her own needs or desires. When occasionally we would go out with her, I would ask her which restaurant she wanted to go to, and she invariably would say that she was happy to go wherever I wanted to go. Once I made what I thought was a fairly strong effort similar to my bowing contest with her. I decided that each time she asked me where I wanted to go for dinner I would demure by saying I was happy to go wherever she wanted to go. Well, it didn't take too many rounds of this for me to realize that I was not going to get her to make a declaration as to her favorite restaurant. She really was happiest to go wherever I wanted to go. My pleasure was her pleasure. My satisfaction satisfied her. Frankly, this is a concept that I still wrestle with. How another person's satisfaction can sate my own desires. How to soften the boundary between "you" and "me."

As I mentioned in a previous newsletter, my wife's family worked 360 days a year for many years on end. The thought of this kind of commitment still very much touches my heart. When you live such a life you don't have the time to wait for "the good times" before you start to enjoy yourself. You don't have the luxury of waiting for the weekend to kick back and relax. You have to find the time, and space, within yourself to appreciate all that you have been given, and all that you have yet to do. If you are of the mindset to be appreciative, the time to appreciate your life is now. Not telling yourself that you need to "let down" first. Not feeling like you are too busy to find the time to be thankful. There are those moments, when we feel very alive. When we notice and feel the smile of a loved one. When each bite of the food we are eating tastes especially good, when the sound of the rain outside our window let's us know that all of nature is being fed. Grandma used to say that we should be thankful for having work to do. Having work to do means that with the help of all those around us, we are able to take care of ourselves. I think as grandma got weaker little by little, she had a clear sense that she was losing her ability to do her "share" of the work. I felt that she was thankful for the help, while at the same time realizing that her next life, her next work, was starting to call her. About a year before passing away I was sitting talking to her and she said "I feel ready to go at any moment." "After all," she said, "I don't want to be greedy. There are others who need to take my place."

There are many lovely aspects of the Japanese funeral process. One ritual in particular really touched me. The room was filled with many flowers, and the Buddhist priests had just finished their chanting and we were ready to close her coffin for the last time. About a half dozen workers suddenly appeared, and with a special tool they quickly clipped off all of the flowers from their stems. It was very powerful to see this transformation take place. A sight of great beauty, quickly stripped away before us, as if this was a metaphor for how ephemeral all of life is.

Next, the workers brought the flowers to us and we were instructed to place the flowers all around grandma, starting at her face, and creating a beautiful blanket for her to wear into her next life. Each one of us including the children present, lovingly placed the flowers around her. Feeling good to have this one last chance to comfort her. I have seen her face in my mind's eye many times in the week since this ceremony. I have a beautiful composite image of the many lovely faces she presented to me during the time I was privileged to know her. Respectful, playful, serious, sad, and towards the end, weakening and needing a bit of help. And I rest in the knowledge that this moment offers her the chance to be looked after. This moment offers her all of the time she needs to be taken care of. This moment is her time to rest in the loving lap of God. This moment is our time to begin to live the legacy that she has left for us.

3. Practice

This week I would like to invite you to take the time to contemplate various aspects of your life. You might consider feeling into some of the following:

"Who am I?"
"What is the meaning of my life?"
"Am I truly giving thanks for all that I have?"
"Am I living a life of faith?"
"Do I have 'enough' yet?

4. Links

I want to suggest that you make your own links this week. Not necessarily in the cyber world, but in the world of people and heartfelt relationships. Link to your friends, link to your parents. Link to those your work with and those you live with in community. Let them know that you are making a heartfelt connection and that you appreciate and love them.

Also, please take some time and think of one or two people that you do not appreciate. Maybe a certain politician or a leader of a particular group. Maybe someone close to you. Take a moment, and from your heart, send them your best wishes. Let them know you are connecting to them and that you hope that they will feel the presence of God in their life.

5. Copyright

Unless otherwise attributed, all material for the newsletter "Pure Heart, Simple Mind"(tm) is written and edited by Charlie Badenhop ©. All rights reserved.

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