Another week has come to a close here in Tokyo.  The week that was filled with dust, dirt, and pollen.  The air was playing hell with my allergies.  I tried to do the Japanese way of wearing a surgical mask, but that helped just a bit.

I am thankful for making it to another shabbat.  The time that has been set aside for reflection and rest.  To look back on the week, and be thankful for what we have.  And I am truly thankful.  I am thankful for my friends and family being safe and in good health.  I am thankful for all the beauty that surrounds my lens.  The flowers are a constant reminder of the change that is brewing here in japan.  The change that needs to happen for this society to overcome all of their difficulties.  I hope that they too will stop to take heed of this beauty, and let the colors inspire them to reach higher than they have ever before.

It is time to put away petty differences.  It is time to see the good in the world and time to put away childish selfish ways.  The glory bubble times are long gone.  It is time to sober up and put forth conversation, and real inclusive unity rather than just for show.

So to all of you, I ask that you in your works, take time to pause, and reflect.  Stop and look up high into the sky and watch the clouds dance across.  Stop, and look at your feet and see the little blooms that are scattered at your feet.

The earth will shake, the rain will fall, and we will be here, being thankful for the life that we are given.

Peace from Tokyo.

I admit it.  I am completely utterly flower obsessed this spring. I have always had an appreciation for the spring but this year it has taken on life changing proportions.  The situation in Japan, in a larger picture the state of the world, has forced me to look at my situation and see what needs changing.  What are the things that need to change?

Change is a life long process.  I can not be happy with my past accomplishments but I must strive to seek out new accomplishments.  I must challenge my lens to seek out other worlds.  I do not know where my lens will lead me next, but I am sure wherever I end up it is where I am suppose to be.

Come, step into the violet, with me.

Taken the other day when the skies were filled with yellow sand, and the skies turned to violet.  It fits, the blur, the bright, and muted all working in harmony to create a smooth end to a long day.  A day that was filled with doubt, dust and odd conversations.

Saved by the flowers that have been with me this spring.  They wont leave my side until the petals fall and are replaced by new growth as summer is just a little while away.

After the funky earthquake last night, where I could swear our home moved in just about all directions imaginable, I awoke to a crazy windy day.  The air was so full of just about everything you could imagine, one one level there was the tons of cedar and cypress pollen, then there was all the dust blowing around, and on top of that all was the yellow sand that is blowing over from China.  Even wearing a mask, and taking some allergy medication didn’t do much to stop all the particulate matter from playing havoc with my mouth, nose, and lungs.

As I was making my way back to the station late this afternoon, I saw the sun struggling to fight through all those layers.  The sun was ultra diffused and the skies were again tinged purple.

The forecast is calling for more wind and rain later tonight.  I do hope that the rain will at least wash away some of all this junk that is flying around.

I don’t want to sound like Job but what else is next?  I still am thankful that my family and friends are safe, and the worse we have to deal with are some inconveniences like the dust, bumpy roads and train delays.  The people of the Tohoku region have been through so much that I really shouldn’t complain, but I should be thankful.

At least the skies are beautiful!

Making my way back to Ichikawa station today, something caught my eye on a stretch of road that never did before.  My eyes were filled with beautiful purpler drapery.  The majestic wisteria was flowing over the gates of a home on top of the hill.

The sun shone through the leaves and illuminated the violet petals.  I have always been drawn to the color purple.  I am not sure why, but I think I find that the hue soothes my troubled soul.

After a few bumpy small aftershocks right before I shut my eyes caused me to get a bit of restless sleep. I welcomed this hue into my lens and let the healing begin.

Lets allow those gleams of color to flood into our lives, and begin the healing process.

I spent the morning helping some friends rebuild their garden that had been covered in a layer of icing like mud after the liquefaction in Shin Urayasu.  The day was a gorgeous spring day.  The sun was shining brightly yet the air was crisp and just a tad cool.  It felt good to both help out and just to be out in the sun.

Sometimes I really miss having a yard with trees, plants, and a garden like I had growing up in Miami.  Here in Tokyo and it’s suburbs there is little space for gardening.  Homeowners get very creative with their use of space, and create elaborate gardens in the most minuscule of areas.

As I wandered a bit around the Shin Urayasu neighborhood, I did notice that it was a lot less dusty than two weeks ago.  More of the silt has been removed, along with a few days of some heavy downpours have helped to clear the air.

People are out and about taking care of their homes and all in all after six weeks things are coming along nicely.

The spring colors keep pushing me forward.  I am compelled to show all the colors that the world has to offer.  The bright spots that standout on a sunny day like yesterday.  With all the worries of the world, I can loose myself within the simple beauty of color.

The skies were overcast and the winds were blowing out in the somewhat countryside of Narashino, Chiba.  The pollen was flowing as freely as the the cherry blossom petals drifted though the air.  As I walked along the road with rows of vegetables to my right I was overcome with the flowers.  There were yellow buds all over.  They were on the trees, on weeds, and ever so low to the ground.

Yellow is color that has never really appealed to me.  I have always gravitated to the cooler hues of blues, purples, and greens.  However, on this day, I was so drawn in to yellow.  From the weedy dandelions that were having a picnic on a hill to a tree that was full of yellow blooms so bright that they glowed under the overcast skies.

After being back in Japan for nearly one month, I just can’t help myself to enough flowers.  To celebrate this beautiful world even down to the overlooked weeds.

So today, on this rainy, cloudy Saturday I livicate this blog to the wonderful hue of yellow.

The purple evening skies of yesterday continued over to today.  The clouds hung low, and the colors were allowed to develop into such rich hues.

I have been wearing a surgical mask when I go into Shin Urayasu for two reasons.  Firstly, my hay fever has been atrocious, a secondly the dust just blows around with no place to go.  I kind of hate when I am wearing the mask, and my glasses fog up, but I guess it is better than being all full of sniffles and sneezes.  However, today the pollen was so strong the mask didn’t make any difference.

I am amazed at some of the pathways and sidewalks in Shin Urayasu.  Because of the liquefaction on some parts they just became piles of bricks, and others, they rhythmically all tilted by 15 degrees.  It was by watching the paths that led me to a Cherry Blossom tree at an entrance to a townhouse like development.  The voluptuous pink blossoms were such a contrast to the dirt filled sidewalk along the main street.  It was so tranquil and seemed so far removed from all the construction going on just meters from this tree.

It again reminded me of the dual nature of the society we are living in.  We are so desperately wanting to return to a stable home life, but the constant aftershocks, the construction, and the Fukusshima nuclear power plant are all there like a fog that wont break up in the morning sun.  Yet, here there was this tree.  It paid no difference to the dust, construction or other worries.  All the tree knew was that it was spring and it was time to bring forth it’s blossoms.

As I continued to make my way home, I caught another flower.  This time it was just a weed.  It was growingly  singularly in some space between a wall and the sidewalk I was on.  The flower just appeared to be shinning.  It was radiating warm light that filled my lens to with warmth.  This images just sandwiched my day.  The tranquil to the mundane.  All full of beauty and full of such promise.

As I was ridding the train home the purple clouds were rolling in, with the promise of more rain.  The skies and the hushed hues made for a lovely end to a day that seemed to keep on going.

After being awoken twice in the night by aftershocks that were relatively close to where I live.  And also being awoken by nightmares of more quakes, I was so pleased to see the velvet skies on my way home.

The skyline in the distance seemed to stretch from one end of the earth to another.  The clouds seemed heavy as they pushed down on the skyline, and the ground was still, for once.

I figure that the days, and weeks ahead will be like this.  Sometimes I will not be able to get a good nights sleep, but others I will be blessed by catching a snow capped Mt. Fuji on my commute.  There are still things to learn, and to explore.

In all it was just another end of a day in Tokyo.

Other than the 4 a.m. aftershock this morning the day went by pretty smoothly.  The air was damp and it rained on and off all night.  The skies were gray when I hopped on the train to make my way into Chiba.  The lights are still off on the trains in a massive effort to save electricity.

On my way back to the station the air was chilled, but the sun was out.  I paused in front of a house to stare at this enormous orange flower.  It was there reaching up towards the warm sun.  Strong in spirit.  Bending little in the breeze.  It is my orange wonder.  A strong warrior among the concrete, and potted plants of Ichikawa.

As the wind was whipping up around me last Friday, I used the time to mull over in my mind my relationship to the environment.  Being in the sprawling metropolis of Tokyo we sometimes forget that there is a rhythm to life that is not set by the subway timetables.

There are seasons to be observed.  The Japanese were very in tune with nature, and their attention to the arts reflect this connection; however, the connections between man and nature are being severed.  For example, I heard from a friend a few weeks ago that some residents across the river from me were in a complete panic when they found yellow powder in the streets and on the buildings.  They immediately jumped to the conclusion the radiation from the crippled Fukushima nuclear power plant’s radiation has reached their homes.  Even though, radiation, is odorless, colorless and tasteless.  The officials checked the suspicious yellow powder, which turned out to be just plain old pollen.

Have we so lost touch with nature that we have forgotten that at certain times of the year pollen dusts our neighborhoods?  I try to live my live with a balance between the urban and the natural.  It isn’t always easy, because of the way we isolate ourselves from nature.

Take the time to notice the seasons.  Take the time to notice how the plants have grown, shed, or changed since the day before.  Take notice of these things as they meld and mix with the concrete and steel around us.

As people all over the world ready and prepare to observe the feast of passover I decided that I would make matzoh from scratch for the first time.  Sometimes I truly am a stranger in a strange land, and I remember that my people were also strangers in a strange land.

With the earth continuing to shake, it has become even more important to me that I observe passover to the absolute best of my ability this year.  The desire to make some homemade matozh grew out of my own identity as a Jew of the tribe of Judah.

As the mixed multitude left Egypt under the leadership of Moses, I too wanted to remember those days, and to be a reminded of the many though out the world who are still in bondage.  Whether the bondage is physical or mental, I pray that all my brothers and sisters throughout the world too can taste real freedom.  And for those of us who are free, let us eat the matzoh, the bitter herbs and the roast lamb as a reminder to all the sacrifices that have been made, and the sacrifices to be made.

I wish all out there from the bottom of my heart a beautiful passover.  I also pray that all by brothers and sisters throughout the world that wish to be in Jerusalem may you be able to make the journey.

פסח שמח

Chag Pesach Same’ach

The day was absolutely gorgeous yesterday.  It was actually the first day, that wearing my fleece lined jacket was a little too much to be out and about.  I finished up what I was doing a bit early and took a stroll, in Narashino.  The wind was just howling.  Cherry Blossom petals filled the air, like pink spring snow.

The sprouting flowers were fighting the wind, moving too and fro in the pollenated air.  These little wonders seemingly so week, effortlessly were able to hold their ground.  They were flexible and strong enough to hold their ground.

I guess the point that I am getting at is that we too must be flexible as the earth shifts beneath our lives that we have built here in Tokyo.  If we are too rigid we will break.  If we are too flexible we will just be like a man-o-war floating where ever the waves take us.

The situation here has the ability to change in a second.  Our whole world could be thrown into the wind without any notice; therefore, I am trying to be flexible in my thoughts and actions.  I am looking to how nature will rebound from tragedy, and we too will rebound.

One Love

One Life

One Desitiny

Be safe in all you do.

My allergies have been playing hell with me these days.  I am usually not susceptible to the annual abundance of cedar and cypress pollen in the air, but this year it has really gotten to me.  In addition to all the pollen that is flying around, the town of Shin Urayasu that was hard hit by the liquefaction is covered with extremely fine dust that is everywhere.  The dust reminds me of what the astronauts experienced on the moon.  I have taken to wearing a surgical mask to protect myself from the dust and pollen that is everywhere I go.

On my way back to Shin Urayasu today, I paused in front of a blooming Camelia tree that was blowing in the wind.  The beautiful crimson flowers just blurred in my eyes as I stood there staring at the.

Even among the dust and dirt of all that my neighbors from across the river have suffered there are signs of normalcy.  From what I have been hearing most of the water, and most of the sewage in Shin Urayasu has been reconnected.  Many of the pathways and sidewalks have been at least temporarily fixed with a fresh layer of asphalt.

There is still much to do, but we must acknowledge that a lot has been done.  The flowers are a constant reminder to myself that there is change too blowing with the pollen and the dust.

Today I was reminded how alive the earth is in Japan.  The earth has been shaking with many aftershocks since 5pm yesterday.  I had a terrible sleep.  I awoke pretty much every time the earth moved.  There has been so much shaking that I am now suffering from Phantom Earthquake Syndrome.  I feel movement even when there isn’t any.

I was also reminded today that we have many brothers and sisters in the Tohoku region who are in danger with even more horrendous aftershocks,and not being provided with clear information from both TEPCO and the Japanese government.  I was clued in to remembering this as a scientist in the Tohoku region left a comment on my blog.

There is still much work to be done.  The sometimes wishy washiness of the decision making process here in Japan, can move at a snails pace.  My heart truly goes out to the people of the hardest hit areas.  As my wife likes to remind me here we have inconveniences but the people up north in Fukushima and Sendai have a mind boggling disaster to deal with.

My family went though hurricane Andrew in 1992 which the scale was terrible, but the loss of life was low, because people could be warned and were able to prepare.  Here in Japan, there was little to no time.

As I was walking home today, I noticed some more of the starflowers growing among the weeds at a construction site.  I was amazed at how those little guys could thrive on what looked like to me just concrete and dirt.  It was the flip side of everything else I experienced today.  It was again the reminder that spring has sprung.

So I ask of my family friends, and anyone else who comes across this blog.  Remember those people from Fukushima, Sendai, and the Tohoku region.  Keep them in your prayers and hearts.