Everyone’s life has seasons. Seasons to succeed, seasons to fail, seasons to grow and learn. I find myself in an odd season - a season of anxiety, restlessness, and unproductivity. There was a time when I got up at 5am to exercise every day. I practiced Japanese every day. I meditated every day. I was losing weight. I even set out time in my day for creativity whether it was writing a Substack or working on children’s books. Overall, I felt my life was more meaningful and productive.
That season of my life ended when my grandpa died.[1] The abrupt travel to the US for his funeral was immediately followed by Franny’s kindergarten graduation. She had a few weeks off school, then she started first grade. Additionally, she started Japanese and English tutoring. With all these changes, Franny and I had to find a new rhythm. That was four months ago, and I’m still trying to find that rhythm like it is Waldo on a crowded beach. I have stopped practicing Japanese. I have stopped meditating. My children’s books series is still unfinished, and I have only written three Substacks. My workouts have gotten shorter, and I have gained weight.
Since the beginning of April, my dog Stormie, aka my fluffy soul outside my body, died after being diagnosed with cancer. A professional mentor, and supporter of this Substack, passed away after acquiring an infection. As if that was not enough, my grandmother passed away somewhat suddenly after spending a torturous week in hospice care.
My grandmother’s name is Carol, named for her Christmas Eve birthday. She would have been 91-years-old this year. She died just 14 days before her 72nd wedding anniversary. She was the mother of four, the grandmother of 13, and the great-grandmother of 13.[2] Now that my grandma has passed away, I fear the season of my life for large family gatherings with all the cousins on Christmas Eve will end. Franny and I will soon be back in the US for a visit with my grandpa as he transitions to a season of life that does not include my grandmother for the first time in over 70 years.
Franny, Aaron, and I were the only family members who did not make it to the hospice room to say goodbye to my grandma. While it is utterly illogical, I think I will always resent Japan for keeping me from the bedside of my dying loved ones. Since my grandma entered hospice care, I have been a walking talking exposed nerve. I spent the entire month of June in an extended panic attack. Even writing these Substacks felt like a herculean task. All I wanted to do was nap and eat chocolate.
With all this discomfort and unease, there was only one thing to do – jump off a sand dune.
My first Japanese lessons started two years ago this month. In that time, I have basically retained nothing, but that is a different Substack. During one of my first lessons, my Japanese sensei, sensing that my capacity to learn was capped out, had me turn to the back of the textbook to a map of Japan. The map labeled major cities and regions of Japan as well as highlighted some unique landmarks. One such image depicted what appeared to be a desert. Knowing nothing about Japan, I assumed it was The Great Japanese Desert. Or whatever.
It turns out there is no desert in Japan, but there is a large sand dune. My confusion was logical as the desert-like appearance of the sand dune is capitalized on by the locals of Tottori prefecture[3] who advertise camel rides and sell camel tchotchkes. For no other reason than Aaron and I had a good laugh about my mistake, and I really like camels, it was decided two years ago that we would eventually travel to the west coast of Japan to see the sand dune. And ride a camel.
Aaron, Franny, and I finally made our way to Tottori at the end of June. Tottori may be my favorite place in all of Japan.[4] As soon as I arrived, I felt the tension release from my body. The fuzzy green mountains alive with plants and trees reminded me of Okinawa. The smell of the salty ocean breeze blew away my anxiety. I felt better in that moment than I had in weeks. I did not even get the customary constipation that all travelers know so well.
Sadly, camel rides on the sand dune are no longer permitted, only souvenir photos; which killed the fantasy of me as Rachel Weisz in The Mummy racing across the sand on camelback. Regardless, the sand dune was a magnificent sight. We learned at the visitor center that it was formed from granite sediment running off the mountains. A view under a microscope of the sand displayed pink, white, and black grains, the same colors visible in the coastal granite cliffs.
One of our most anticipated activities in Tottori was paragliding on the sand dune. Even six-year-old Franny was strapped to a parachute, taught how to navigate, and run off a cliff of the dune.[5] Our paragliding group also happened to include two lovely, albeit slightly hungover, American marines. Despite their training and Aaron’s annoyingly perfect athleticism, Franny and I flew the highest and longest. We were told later that this was because Franny and I had the lowest body weights in the group. Of course, the only time I have the lowest body weight in a group in Japan is when I am surrounded by a bunch of American males. Neither Franny nor I stuck our landings by remaining on our feet and running until the parachute dropped. Mostly we just fell over when our feet hit the sand. But we came out uninjured. A win is a win.
I cannot say I was completely at peace while Franny or I were in the air, despite the prompter giving us the instruction to “enjoy.” I tried to heed his command and take a moment each flight to appreciate that I was hovering above golden sand, near majestic turquoise water, strapped to a parachute that was coincidentally Ohio State University colors. I was only in the air for a few minutes, and I was nervous about my landing the entire time; but the feeling of weightlessness, while the ocean wind blew past my ears, and the sand glittered below was a tranquil and enchanting experience.
It was only after we finished that one of the instructors told Aaron that if we had landed in the water we would have certainly died. Apparently, it is near impossible to release oneself from the harness and parachute before drowning. Useful information before I strapped my six-year-old to a parachute next to the ocean!
As an aside, Franny has become quite the little daredevil. In Japan, she has gone ziplining without brakes, flown through the air with the greatest of ease on the flying trapeze, and now she has been paragliding. We already have plans to skydive as a family on her 18th birthday. She also wants to try wingsuit base jumping. I am not participating with that one. If landing alive requires my athleticism and coordination… Well, there are easier ways to commit suicide.
Our scheduled boat ride around the Tottori coast was canceled because the waves were too high, and our surf lesson was canceled because the waves were too small. I guess that’s Japan’s rainy season for you. Despite these setbacks, we made the most of our time. In one day, we did kayak and standup paddleboarding tours of the coast. Our kayaking guide was impressed by our initiative and physical endurance.
“Do you exercise?” he asked. I don’t like to brag, but I do YouTube video workouts for 30 minutes a day alone at my house. I’m pretty intense.
In all seriousness, I appreciated my focus on yoga and strength training on that day of kayaking and paddleboarding. I wished I had focused more on cardio the day before while I was running up the steep sand dune with 20lbs of parachute on my back. Poor Aaron had to carry Franny’s parachute as well as his own. I tried to carry Franny’s at one point. I made it about 80 feet. Just far enough to hand it over to Aaron. If I am being totally honest, one of the employees had to help me to get that far.
The Tottori coast with its pink granite cliffs, green vegetation, and turquoise water was straight out of Neverland or Narnia. I swear our photos look photoshopped.
We got to kayak and paddleboard into caves and coves and through rocky tunnels. We were fortunate that the water was crystal clear that day revealing sea urchin covered rocks and schools of fish swimming below. We learned that one particular keyhole rock formation adorned with a solitary pine tree is a historical Japanese landmark because centuries ago a Shogun tried to have it pulled out of the ocean and placed in his garden. Not so shockingly, that turned out to be impossible.
I was reluctant to leave Tottori and its breathtaking views, calming ocean breeze, piled high snow crab lunches, and relief from wanting to crawl out of my skin every moment of the day. But alas, vacations are a brief season and the demands of life always pull us back to the real world too soon.
I like to think the beautiful water of Tottori was healing, and completing this Substack means I am transitioning to a better season of life. A season with less loss and more feelings of contentment. I recently read the book Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life. The term ikigai refers to each person’s purpose in life. The book authors proclaim, “To build resiliency in life, we should not fear adversity; because each setback is an opportunity for growth.”
I take this advice to heart. As I move into a new season of life, I am trying to focus on my gratitude for the time I had with those who passed; and I am grateful for the people I still have in my life and the opportunities to come.
I also take the advice of Love Island UK contestants to heart, “it’s not that deep. Stop moving mad and just crack on.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.
[1] My grandpa’s death also marked the end of summers spent fishing, swimming, and skiing and winters spent ice skating on the lake. That was a happy season of my life.
[2] When my grandma and grandpa moved away from their farm, I came to terms with that season ending. However, it still saddens me that my grandpa never got the chance to take Franny for a tractor ride.
[3] Japanese prefectures are similar to states in the US.
[4] Aaron took this opportunity to remind me that I also really enjoyed the two nights we spent in Kawasaki, but that was because it reminded me of the United States right down to the California Pizza Kitchen where we had dinner.
[5] See my previous Substacks where I discuss how Japan is a much less litigious society than the US.