I don’t know when I wrote this. It happened in my studio but it can be my post for Sunday. Maybe I wrote it while remembering it happening there. Once more my ADHD has made me all mixed up with dates.
I was lying in my “Zen” area listening to insight timer music. (In my studio)
I got in touch with my childhood, the part spent living in Tokyo, a happy innocent time, from 1977-1979, age 10-12,perhaps missing the final finishing touches on building the World Trade Center.
So much has changed. It’s hard to explain the safety I felt there and the delayed innocence. I was at a Catholic girls’ school, The International School of the Sacred Heart. I’m sure I hated the harsh uniforms just a white blouse and grey skirt, but it was Japan so it made sense.
I think I was happy. I tried to run away from home once but it was more like a performance, even though I believed I could. There was no place to go and no plan. My unperturbed mother (who knew me well and my weird penchant for wanting to both disappear and have people talk about me. It wasn’t til I realized I was an artist that I figured out how selling a painting to someone to put on their wall was a perfect way to mark my presence while not being there), so my neither said goodbye, and the neighbor across the hall offered to give me some cookies when she saw me waiting for the elevator. I went into her house and almost forgot I was running away. So I went back home. I can still picture the yellow winter hat, the Snoopy duffel bag, red with 2 stripes. I was probably in this red coat I had.
When I got back to NYC everything was bad, such a contrast to Japan where we used to go to fancy places to eat, meeting my dad’s clients, always bringing us giftsA man named Mr. Ise knew I collected music boxes and game one often.
All the rituals, having a staircase, eventually 2 tiny turtles, Herbie and Freddie, celebrating New Years Day as more important. Getting to see Shinto shrines. My mom collecting Netsuke and buying and selling some of that, my sister skateboard ing in th parking lot, living in Hiroo Towers, an occasional visit from my brother who was doing things like climbing MT. Everest. Asking my dad to translate the old samurai soap operas…
One morning I came in the kitchen and my mom was making American pancakes. I saw a huge pancake on the wall and it was God. God was that pan unibody else saw.
I’m an atheist but it was probably my first spiritual experience.