Ode Magazine

A winter’s tale

Mon, 12 Sep 2011 14:56:50 EST

Celebrating the return of the bald eagle

In the Iowa winter, as the poet Robert Hass wrote, “a farmer’s dreams are narrow,” and autumn can inspire me with a kind of dread as I work in the garden that will soon be buried under snow. But this coming winter, as the river that runs past my window becomes a sluggish ice jam, something miraculous will happen: The bald eagles will return.

To anyone familiar with the birds primarily through American patriotic kitsch, the sight may not seem that moving. But after the bald eagle became our national symbol in 1782, Americans drove it to the brink of extinction. In 1973, two years before I was born, nature writer George Laycock chronicled the “impending disappearance of the bald eagle” in a book that details the manifold challenges facing the birds, from pollution to hunting to development. His book, Autumn of the Eagle, advocates change but reads more like a lament for a species that is already gone, complete with data charts showing the extirpation of the birds from the lower 48 states. From the 1930s to the 1960s, from west Texas to California, hunters developed the bizarre sport of aerial eagle hunting, killing thousands of eagles a year by blasting them with shotguns from the open windows of small planes.

The practice emerged as a response to sheep ranchers’ mistaken belief that the birds, which grow to nearly four feet long and have a seven-foot wingspan, could prey on young lambs, a myth akin to the persistent rumor that the birds snatch small children. But it developed into a uniquely American high-octane sport. One legendary hunter, John Casparis, bragged that he could kill 1,000 eagles a year by approaching them from behind, letting go of the controls and firing his sawed-off shotgun just before the craft stalled into a dive.

DDT was a far bigger threat. American farmers dumped thousands of tons of the insecticide on their crops each year in the 1950s and ’60s, before Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring established the link to waning bird populations and helped launch the American environmental movement. As DDT made its way through the food chain in ever-more-concentrated doses, it caused eagle shells to become thin and eagle eggs sterile. Against fierce industrial opposition, the U.S. banned DDT in 1972 and the birds were protected under the Endangered Species Act of 1973. But as a child, I never saw an eagle that wasn’t in a zoo or on a dollar bill.

In Shakespeare’s A Winter’s Tale, a character who has found a lost infant meets another who has just witnessed a death. “You have met with things dying,” he says, “and I with things newborn,” and the moment shifts the play from tragedy to comedy. The eagle’s return marks a similar narrative shift, a victory for those who spent their Januaries tramping around the frozen Midwest looking for the single eagle’s nest that remained in Iowa by 1977, holding out hope that the story could be changed if they could find and protect a viable egg. Even the most optimistic could never have predicted the resiliency of the birds and the ferocity of their comeback. In Iowa, environmentalists set a goal of 10 or 20 nests by 2010. But population growth took the U.S. Department of Wildlife by surprise. Last year, federal staffers lost count at 254 nests, nearly as many as once existed in the continental U.S. The birds left the Endangered Species List in 2007. This year, the Iowa Department of Natural Resources spotted 47 new eagle territories and stopped counting. Busloads of tourists now visit Iowa and Illinois in the winter—a trip that defies logic and comfort—to go on “eagle safaris” with leaders like Bob Motz. The retired biology teacher offers your money back if you don’t see eagles, “and I’ve never had to give it back,” he says. Indeed, although the birds face continuing threats from pollution, it must be easy money these days.

On a recent walk with my children, I lost track of how many eagles we saw fishing and nesting in trees. As one giant bird wheeled toward us and dove for fish, my daughter screamed, “Don’t eat me!” Then she returned to ignoring the bird. The lack of portentous symbolism the event held for her is a cause for celebration. For me, the eagle’s return is a scene of renewal at the time of the year that seems most barren and bleak, a reminder that a few dedicated people can change the narrative for a species or an ecosystem. For her, it’s a reason to look forward to January.

Issue: September 2011

Blocking CO2 to beat malaria

Mon, 12 Sep 2011 14:56:50 EST

Mosquitoes are so difficult to elude because they pursue us via the CO2 exhaled in our breath. That’s annoying when we’re relaxing outside on a summer evening, but it’s devastating for the 200 to 300 million people who contract malaria annually. More than 1 million people—the majority of them young children in sub-Saharan Africa—die every year from this mosquito-borne disease. After his wife came down with dengue fever, another mosquito-borne malady, University of California, Riverside entomologist Anandasankar Ray started looking for a way to stop mosquitoes in their tracks—and found it, thanks to ripening fruit and fruit flies.

Ray discovered that ripe fruit gives off odors that can block a fly’s CO2 receptors, which the insects use to locate food and warn each other of predators. He synthesized the chemicals, adapted them to block mosquitoes’ CO2 receptors and formulated it into an environmentally friendly spray. Ray is now seeking to commercialize the technology through his company, OlFactor Laboratories. “The fruit fly serves as a model to understand very complicated questions that could never have been asked in other insects,” says Ray, who had malaria as a kid growing up in India.

Ray’s spray is potentially important because current methods of mosquito protection, including insecticides and nets, are costly and largely ineffective. Mosquitoes develop resistance to insecticides, which pollute the environment, and net distribution is not extensive enough to reach most people. OlFactor Laboratories products will be “cost-effective in distressed economies and remote locations,” says the firm’s president, Steve Abbott. “We are developing programs that will fund deployment in places hardest hit by mosquito-borne diseases and least able to afford a campaign to protect humans and animals.”

Issue: September 2011

Clean water, clean energy

Mon, 12 Sep 2011 14:56:50 EST

In the prosperous West, we generally only get worked up about clean water and electricity when the bill arrives in the mail, and we discover that once again, we’ve been showering too long and leaving the lights on too often. But in many parts of the world, people can only dream of bills like these. Clean drinking water and electricity are unavailable. These people live too remotely for companies to recoup the cost of providing such amenities; thus, no one is willing to tackle the problem.

If all goes well, an idea that originates with electrical engineer Jerry Woodall will soon change this. The Purdue University professor invented an aluminum alloy that can make contaminated water potable and generate electricity in the process. According to Woodall, his idea is unique: No competing technology can extract both drinking water and electricity from any type of water using an element as common and inexpensive as aluminum.

Though Woodall patented the principle underlying his technique in 1968, he didn’t try to come up with a practical application for it until a few years ago, when he became motivated by the increasing demand for sustainable green energy. The result is a mixture of aluminum, gallium, indium and tin that weighs just 110 pounds (50 kilograms), including a reactor and a fuel cell. The lightweight design makes the device easy to transport, so people from Africa to Haiti can use it as long as a water source is available.

The electricity and water are produced when the alloy comes in contact with water, catalyzing a spontaneous chemical reaction that separates the hydrogen and oxygen molecules from one another. Feeding the hydrogen molecules into a fuel cell produces electricity, with steam as a by-product. The steam is collected, and any bacteria present are destroyed by the heat, making the condensed water potable.

The only waste product is harmless aluminum hydroxide, which, according to Woodall, could be used to smelt a new alloy without releasing CO2. He is looking for a commercial partner to build a prototype and bring the product to market.

Issue: September 2011

The secret’s in the sauce

Mon, 12 Sep 2011 14:56:50 EST

What my father’s recipe for pasta marinara says about the future of capitalism

As the daughter of a Neapolitan, I grew up eating pasta with marinara sauce. My father didn’t always make it from scratch, but he did so often enough for me to follow his recipe through memories. Fresh tomatoes were not always available, but we canned them so we had the base for the red sauce all year.

The name “marinara” means “mariner’s sauce.” There is some debate as to whether the sauce got its start with Spanish or Neapolitan sailors’ wives. Since Spain owned Naples during the key years (the first recorded recipe book containing the sauce, written in Naples, is dated 1692), it is a meaningless debate. The important thing is that early on, the healing aspects of tomatoes were discovered, and sailors used the sauce to cure and prevent scurvy.

Tomatoes originated in the New World, and while they probably came from Peru, they were grown at least as far north as Mexico by the time the Spanish sailed. Since the fruit could be dried and was acidic enough to stay preserved, it could be carried long distances. The mariners who carried it could survive at sea without fresh vegetables.

But at some point in history, humankind seemed to stop noticing the connection between the benefits of what we eat and our health. We moved away from herbal remedies toward pills and gadgets. A stiff neck was no longer treated with a warm hand towel wrapped firmly around our neck and fastened with a baby diaper pin. Muscle relaxants became the cure of first resort. I’ve had friends suffer a torn meniscus and have knee surgery, but most of these injuries used to heal with time and quadriceps exercises.

I admit to admiration for Luddites, but I am not one. I enjoy modern comforts. Still, I cannot help but wonder if we are getting less when we modernize. The stories in the press back me up. It turns out that women of a certain age who take calcium tablets don’t benefit as much as women who rely on diet to meet that need. Milk does it better.

I recently read Michael Pollan’s In Defense of Food, in which he advises us to eat “real” food. I had to laugh when I read that. I remembered my mother scooping something called “Cool Whip” onto some heated pears for dessert. My father leapt to his feet. “What are you doing? Are you feeding our children plastic?” It wasn’t plastic, but it also wasn’t exactly whipped cream. In 2007, Patrick Di Justo wrote in a Wired magazine article entitled “Cool Whip” that it is mostly water and air, although it costs twice as much as homemade whipped cream.

Old-fashioned food is cheaper and better for you. Eating a garlic clove when you start to feel sick isn’t nearly as expensive as cold pills; gargling with warm salt water actually feels pretty good (I admit, eating garlic does not) and does relieve most sore throats… but where’s the profit?

How many ancient wisdoms have we let fall aside because they were more trouble and less entertaining than being a patient and getting a pill? My mom boiled water to clear her sinuses. I don’t know; maybe pills do a better job, but they cost a lot and might do some damage, too.

My father took my temperature by touching his forehead to mine. If mine felt hot to him, I had a temperature. Then came the mercury thermometer. Probably the worst part of that was uncovered in 2001 when 7.4 tons of mercury-contaminated glass from a thermometer factory was found to be polluting the area watershed after having been dumped unprotected. Unilever eventually paid a fine, closed the factory and cleaned up the mess. At least thermometers aren’t made of mercury anymore. Mercury thermometers have been banned in most of the world.

When I was upset, I was given hot milk. When it was hot out, I sat with my feet in a bucket of ice water. Sleeping pills were not even considered. Oh, and generating electricity to cool homes and retail spaces ultimately means that power companies, which typically burn fossil fuels, burn more. This leads to greenhouse gases, higher global temperatures and more air-conditioning.

One of the concerns I have with the miracles of capitalism is that it has run over the miracles of nature. Corporate profits lie behind much of the erosion of land and the poisoning of air and water. Responsible investors use a battery of approaches to shine light on these issues. But let us also be mindful of what we can do to keep alive the wisdom of prior generations and not fall prey to the marketing myth of ever newer and “better” products.

Issue: September 2011

Sonic boon

Mon, 12 Sep 2011 14:56:50 EST

A search for the healing power of sound

I’m lying in A bed that’s as hard as nails with a series of strings along the sides and two gongs above my head. It’s known as a gong bath, and Gwen de Jong, a practitioner of sound healing at Spirit Connection in Amsterdam, assures me it can help clear my mind. “Just give in to it, and don’t try to analyze it,” she says before we begin.

Then she asks, “What do you hope to achieve?” When I say I want to relax, De Jong puts a mask on my eyes and begins to play. While I enjoy the sounds at first, they soon become unpleasant. The increasingly intense vibrations feel like screeches; my head fills with dark thoughts. I’m this close to ending the session, but I struggle to give in to it. When the vibrations soften, I feel better. A few times, I even reach a mindless state—if only for a fraction of a second.
Afterward—my session lasted 20 minutes; they usually last an hour—Spirit Connection’s founder, Harry van Dalen, comes in and explains that the unpleasant sensation I felt is the internal battle between thoughts and the “I.” “Your ego is resisting. Some people can give themselves over right away; others take longer.” Internal battle or no, I feel remarkably relaxed afterward. Though I usually turn on my iPod after an interview, I decide this time to travel home in silence.

Most people are probably unaware that the body consists of vibrations. External sounds resonate with the sounds in our bodies; think of the sensation you feel near a speaker at a concert. It’s not so crazy, then, to imagine that external sounds might also have a therapeutic, healing effect. Anyone who listens to birds singing knows sound can relax us. But it can also heal, accomplishing everything from reducing stress to helping autistic children.

In recent years, academic studies have investigated the healing power of sound. In 2009, researchers at the University of Jyväskylä in Finland discovered sound waves can improve mobility in older people with bone problems. The application of sound waves reduced cholesterol levels and bone deterioration. That year, research at Wilfrid Laurier University in Ontario, Canada, produced equally positive results. Forty patients with Parkinson’s disease sat in physioacoustic chairs, seats with speakers that emit low-frequency vibrations. Afterward, the patients’ symptoms had decreased. Motor skills improved; stiffness and shaking declined

The idea that sound affects the human body is not new. Healing mantras and religious chants are centuries old. The Egyptians described incantations to heal rheumatic pain, insect bites and infertility. The Old Testament records how King Saul was cured of his depression by David’s harp music. Famous composers have also discovered the connection between sounds, music and health. Mozart used this knowledge in his music by having the antagonist in an opera sing in a minor key and the protagonist in a major key. Composer George Frideric Handel once said he hoped his music had not simply entertained his listeners but “made them better.”

Jill Purce in England is a pioneer in the field of modern sound healing. Since the 1970s, she has led workshops worldwide to teach people how to use what she says is the most powerful instrument of all: the voice. She has people sing or chant to increase awareness and dissolve blockages.

Purce grew up with the healing power of sound. As the daughter of a concert pianist and a doctor, she was surrounded by the combination of sound and healing. Rather than study music or traditional medicine, Purce wanted to investigate the healing power of sound. “I was fascinated by forms and vibrations and by the effects of sound. I soon realized that our own voices are the most powerful instruments on Earth.”

A childhood incident played an important role in this realization. Purce and her family were in a small boat when a violent storm blew up. While others worried they might drown, three women on board began to chant. “Almost at once our fear dissolved. Waves of strength surged into us until finally we were overcome with feelings of bliss and enchantment.”

In addition to exploring the effects of sound and vibrations, Purce studied with Tibetan lamas beginning in the late 1960s. The lamas sing in overtones, higher-frequency components of the fundamental note that is chanted. “These monks sang in tones that resonated with their internal and external vibrations.

That’s when I realized that this way of chanting is the most effective way to create peace in the body and to reach a higher state of being.”

In Purce’s workshops, overtone chanting is a central component of discovering the power of sound. “I prefer to work in groups. Then you resonate not only with yourself and with nature but also with each other. That has the greatest effect.”

People with all kinds of health issues, from multiple sclerosis to depression, say Purce’s workshops help them. Purce herself is reluctant to claim any healing powers. “I don’t call myself a healer. What I actually do is help people heal themselves with an incredibly powerful tool: their own voices.” The basic principle underlying sound healing is that of resonance. Every object is in a constant state of vibration, goes the theory. Sound and light can affect matter, just as they affect the vibrations that matter produces. Because the human body is not made of a hard substance such as metal, it is receptive to the energy contained in sound.

The body also resonates. Each of our organs, bones and tissues has a frequency. And just like instruments, the body can get out of tune. When the components of the body vibrate at normal frequencies, we say we are “healthy.” If part of the body begins to vibrate at a nonharmonic frequency, we speak of “disease.” Research has shown that some sounds in our voices are under stress. These sounds correspond to imbalances in the body. Changing our voice patterns changes the frequencies in our brainwaves and reduces illness.

Purce is not bothered by the fact that traditional Western medicine views her methods as airy-fairy. She has another way of looking at it. “My husband is a biologist, so I know scientists want to see proof,” she says. “But I see proof in the doing of it.”

The academic world is, in fact, already acquainted with the positive effects of sound. In the mid-1960s, French physician Alfred Tomatis explored the relationship between sound pollution and hearing damage. He spent years researching the interplay between the voice, the auditory system, the body and the mind. According to Tomatis, the ear is a generator that feeds the brain with energy during the prenatal phase (when the baby is in the womb). During prenatal development, the ability to listen can be damaged without damage to the baby’s hearing.

Tomatis’ therapy, which is now used primarily for children with dyslexia or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, consists of re-experiencing the development of the ability to listen. Children treated by this method are fed music containing high tones through headphones. These are either Mozart’s symphonies or Gregorian chants, and using a special device, the “electronic ear,” they are filtered down to the level of sound in liquid, as a baby in the womb would hear them. During therapy, the child will also be exposed to his or her mother’s voice. The high tones (16 to 20 kHz) are the primary source of the method’s healing effect. Research has shown that these tones stimulate the brain in such a way that concentration and the ability to learn are enhanced. The subject responds with greater alertness and has more energy. Though the technique offers no guarantees, the results are positive. After treatment, children are able to listen and read better.

Aaltje van Zweden is well aware of sound’s positive effects on children with mental disabilities. She and her husband, violinist Jaap van Zweden, founded the Papageno Foundation 15 years ago. Papageno employs music therapists who help autistic children communicate through music. The couple’s experience with autism introduced them to the healing power of music, sound and rhythm.

“When our son was 5, he responded strongly to certain music. Whenever I played the song ‘Jesus to a Child’ by George Michael, he became very upset. He couldn’t talk then, but years later he told me that the song made him sad,” Van Zweden remembers.

Although her son is 21, he still meets with a music therapist. “Our therapists always come to the children at home. My son looks forward to it, though he usually isn’t interested in anything. During last week’s session, I even heard him describe his week in the form of an opera!”

Music can also stimulate quicker recovery in people who have had strokes. Researchers at the University of Helsinki came to this conclusion by measuring what patients were able to do one week after a stroke. Then researchers had stroke victims listen to music, audio books or nothing. Three months after their strokes, verbal memory had improved by 60 percent in patients who had listened to music.

Physical therapy also makes use of sound. Physical therapists, podiatrists and manual therapists use tuning forks to diagnose nerve problems. For example, manual therapist Petra de Lange of the Open Hart bodywork practice in Enschede, the Netherlands, works with phonophoretic sonopuncture, a therapy that uses tuning fork vibrations. According to De Lange, this method can regulate physical, emotional and mental discomfort and stimulate meridians, chakras and nadis, the channels of energy and consciousness in traditional Chinese medicine. “All matter, color, bodily parts and organs are made of vibration,” De Lange says. “This is no airy-fairy alternative nonsense but something you can simply measure with technological instruments. Just like waves in water, vibrations affect each other.” Tuning forks can go deeper than hands. “The vibrations from the tuning forks affect muscles, tendons, ligaments and joints. The therapist can see whether the body picks up the tuning fork’s vibration.”

Sound waves are used primarily to make diagnoses and perform prenatal ultrasound testing, but studies into the use of ultrasound waves to treat cancer are in full swing. Researchers at the Eindhoven University of Technology and the Academic Medical Center in Amsterdam have recently begun using a new technique for detecting prostate cancer. The method employs ultrasound and microbubbles. The gas-filled microbubbles are administered intravenously and react differently to ultrasound waves than do human tissue and blood. Because blood vessels in tumors display a different pattern than those in healthy tissue, tumors are easy to recognize in these ultrasound images, and researchers can determine how aggressive a cancer is by looking at the blood vessel pattern.

“Whether we’re aware of it or not, our moods are determined by the vibrations present,” says De Lange. “Think of the times you’ve walked into a place and felt something in the atmosphere. ‘There’s something in the air,’ we say. That something is vibration or frequency.”

Harry van Dalen has also discovered the power of sound—not from an academic or spiritual viewpoint but a technical one. For years, he has sold audiovisual equipment; then he started to see the need to go deeper. “About six years ago, I visited Tibet,” he says. “I went through a special initiation using mantras that completely overturned my life. I can’t explain it, but in 10 seconds my whole life passed before me. Back home, I landed in a kind of identity crisis: Who am I, really?”

Van Dalen began to explore spirituality and meditation techniques. While studying Buddhism and Gnosticism, he discovered that sound plays a crucial role in healing. He founded Spirit Connection with De Jong and Jansen to explore that idea in the West. The practice not only offers classes but incorporates gong baths, Himalayan singing bowls and Ohm forks, all tools that work with sound, vibration and the energy of the body. Most of his clients have stressful jobs. “People under a lot of stress use sound therapy techniques to learn how to relax and how to better deal with specific situations. To really reach a higher level of consciousness, you have to achieve inner silence. And, paradoxically enough, you achieve that silence the fastest through sound.” But while Van Dalen is a firm believer in the power of sound, he won’t promise miracles. “I won’t claim that you can fight cancer with gong baths. But I do believe stress makes people sick. And if you can fight that stress using sound, why wouldn’t you try?”

Issue: September 2011

Expanding the border of local food advocates

Wed, 17 Aug 2011 11:59:43 EST

By: thayerd

Thousands of people, mostly women and children, have been walking for days. Not just a day or two, they've been walking for fifteen to twenty days, bound for Dadaab refugee camp in Kenya. Many of the women have lost children to hunger during the trek or taken unaccompanied minors (likely orphans) found along the way into their care. All of these people were in utter desperation to leave their homes and come to a camp in such a remote place for food and water. There are now 400,000 people in Dadaab. The influx of 9,000 people per week is taxing on the resources of the camp.

The ongoing food crisis in East Africa, including Kenya and Ethiopia and the famine in parts of Somalia, is affecting over 11 million people and the result of a series of circumstances. In Somalia, a two-year drought devastated harvests and depleted livestock. This in turn led to record food prices beyond the reach of many. There is also internal conflict in Somalia, tied to a lack of basic infrastructure and social services.

Of course emergency humanitarian relief is needed to save lives now. But equally important is the need to address underlying problems to achieve long-term solutions.

Overall this is an issue of food and power. There is enough food produced to feed everyone but still nearly 1 billion people go to bed hungry every night. The food system is broken, and we need to change the way we grow and share food so everyone has enough to eat.

Here in the San Francisco Bay Area, there are many great efforts to change our local food system and how we eat. We have support for eating local and organic food through farmers’ markets and community supported agriculture, more people taking part in urban gardening in community gardens or their own backyard, many chefs in our restaurants who prepare local and sustainable foods, and efforts to reform school lunches. And from travels to other cities and regions, I’ve witnessed the local food movement’s presence from coast to coast.

Much like the benefits we will reap locally and nationally by moving to more sustainable agriculture and supporting local farmers, these same advantages are desirable to the global food system. Most of the hungry in developing countries are actually small-scale food producers (farmers, pastoralists, fishers). So in order to help those who are vulnerable to hunger, there should be investment in small-scale food producers, protection of their rights to land and other natural resources, and support to maintain resilience through climate change and food price increases.

When it comes to the food movement here, a common saying is “Think globally, act locally.” It’s time for local food advocates to embrace the global food system and to push for changes by focusing on local efforts here and abroad. “Think globally, act locally and support global reform.”

Oxfam’s GROW campaign aims to build a better food system: one that sustainably feeds a growing population (estimated to reach nine billion by 2050) and empowers poor people to earn a living, feed their families, and thrive. Learn more and take the GROW pledge on Oxfam America’s website. Take action today at www.oxfamamerica.org/grow

Photo: Neil Palmer (CIAT)

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Sharing optimism and joy with sidewalk chalk

Tue, 16 Aug 2011 14:59:51 EST

By: mmlarsen

Remember when you were a kid and you’d draw pictures and write happy thoughts with chalk in your driveway and down the sidewalks of your street? And the adults always smiled when they read the big, paste-colored messages? This is just like that. Only we’re bigger now. And we don’t have to go in the house when the street lights go out.

The idea is as simple as it was in childhood: write happy messages, have fun doing it, spread some joy while you’re at it.

Any day is a great day to spread joy, optimism and inspiration through the magical power of sidewalk chalk, but many efforts are most powerful when done in collectively. So, on Tuesday, August 23, 2011, spend 10 minutes outside writing an uplifting, positive message in chalk on your sidewalk, driveway or parking lot.

Then, share your message by posting it on Facebook, and Tweet about it with #chalkthewalks. By the end of the day, we’ll have a collection of images from (hopefully) all over the U.S. (or even the world!) spreading joy, optimism and inspiration through the playful, magical power of sidewalk chalk.

Chalk the Walks, a project of The Joy Team, is all about spreading joy, inspiration and optimism through the magical power of sidewalk chalk. Learn more at ChalkTheWalks.com.

OdeNow presents health pioneer Johan Boswinkel

Tue, 09 Aug 2011 17:25:07 EST

By: Ode

Warning! This story is about a man who has developed a groundbreaking new therapy: healing with light. The man is not a doctor. Nor is he an accredited scientist. His proof is rather anecdotal, and yes, countless skeptics are eagerly lining up to attack his results and conclusions. Yet Johan Boswinkel might just hold a key to the medicine of the future in his hands.

So begins Ode’s feature story about Dutch health pioneer Johan Boswinkel and his wacky, wonderful journey into a new way to practice medicine, in our July/August issue, out now.

After interviewing Boswinkel, Ode founder Jurriaan Kamp—who has written widely about complementary health—was so intrigued by biophoton therapy, Boswinkel’s method of healing cells with light, that he persuaded the unconventional practitioner to make a rare U.S. appearance to demonstrate and discuss his work.

This offering is characteristic of Ode. We’re building a passionately independent multimedia company as a platform for stories about acts of courage and creativity that are changing our world. These stories need to be heard because they inspire us to create change.

That event will be held in San Francisco on Thursday, September 8, at 12:00 p.m. Pacific, 3:00 p.m. Eastern. (Click here to register free.) Already, hundreds of people have signed up to attend. Can’t be there? The event will be livestreamed from London to Bangkok with cutting-edge digital technology that lets you not only ask questions but talk with other members of the audience.

Boswinkel will perform a treatment, talk with Kamp and The Wisdom Network’s Thomas White about his approach, and take questions about what biophoton therapy can do for you and your loved ones.

And it’s FREE.

That’s because it kicks off OdeNow, a one-of-a-kind program that allows members to connect to the changemakers in Ode and like-minded members of our global community.

Click here to find out more about OdeNow, and to sign up for our free event in San Francisco, the Netherlands or online.

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Three creative ways people are bringing hope and healing to Sendai

Thu, 28 Jul 2011 13:28:46 EST

By: Anne Thomas

Even though the initial intensity of the March 11 disaster has subsided, many people still feel a deep tugging to help Japanese disaster victims. Since that subtle pull is strong and persistent, people are finding very creative ways to bring hope and healing to this part of the world.

Three efforts in particular have found their way to me. The first is an offer by a caring individual and his family. The second is an Australian concern called Wishes on Wings. And the third is an American project named 500 Frogs.

Here is the beautiful offer given by a very sensitive, loving family:

“Years ago we spent some time in Sendai, and the coastal villages to the north, as I work as a marine biologist. Our team had tracked a sea turtle from Baja California, Mexico to Sendai (7,000 miles in 368 days), the first animal ever tracked swimming across an ocean.

“While in Sendai, we experienced such wonderful hospitality and kindness from strangers. In our work we walked a long stretch of coast to the north of Sendai until we reached Adelita's (the turtle) final location. All along the way we were greeted and taken care of.

“Our family and my work has been connected to Sendai ever since.

“Our daughters, Grayce (9) and Julia (6), were thinking about how they could help people in Sendai and decided that they'd like to offer their room to a girl from Sendai who may want to take a break in the redwoods of California...sort of a reverse sea turtle migration.

“They'd like to host a Japanese family to come stay with us, to help a girl their age to feel less stress. They remember what it was like when our home was nearly lost to a massive forest fire.”

Truly this manifests the beauty of empathy and compassion at work, individual to individual.

The second of these, Wishes on Wings, began almost immediately after the Great East Japan Earthquake and resulting tsunami obliterated most of the Pacific coastline settlements of this area. This organization has two main projects. One is on an emotional and spiritual dimension, the other very practical. The first was addressed by volunteers who made thousands of origami cranes, uniting them into long garlands called Senbazuru. For centuries these winged messengers have been symbols of hope and good wishes for those in difficulty. The other level of the work of Wishes on Wings was very down to earth. They did fundraising, not to give cash donations, but rather to offer very practical items, such as a kitchen in a community center, or equipment for a daycare center and a school. The Senbazuru and fund raising activities are drawing to a close. So the next part is to find the best place for the equipment they wish to offer. To get a clearer idea of the work, here are the exact words of Cate Juno, one of the main organizers of this project.

“Actually, Wishes on Wings has been set up specifically to rally support for the survivors of the Japan disaster. We are doing this in two ways:

“Firstly, we are encouraging people to send messages of hope which we are writing onto origami paper and making them into paper cranes to create a senbazuru (or many senbazuru we hope!) We are doing this so that people feel they are making an emotional connection with those who are suffering, and so that the people who receive these messages know that the world at large has not forgotten them. We think this is an important aspect of 'giving.'

“Secondly, we are collecting monetary donations with the aim of contributing to a specific project in the disaster area once the task of rebuilding begins. We would {like} to find a specific project such as cooking equipment for a community centre, or play equipment for a daycare centre, or equipment for a school, etc.

“This project is also going into our local schools so that children can feel that they can help too. We are in Western Australia but have a friend in Atlanta who is also starting this project there. We are also gathering financial support from other small groups here who are collecting donations and want to work together to create a single project.

"One of team members is a university student from Sendai who has decided to stay and continue his studies because his parents have said this is the best way he can contribute to the future of Sendai. But it is very difficult for Koki to focus on his studies and so this project is helping him to cope with his personal tragedy.

We have a website (at present very rudimentary!) at www.wishesonwings.com and a Facebook page Wishes on Wings.”

Last week I met Koki, who had returned to this area for a few weeks. It was the first time he had come home since the disaster. When I met him, he was in total shock and very conflicted as to what his next move should be. “Should I continue my studies in Perth?” he queried. “Or should I come back here to help? I really, really want to be here now. What in all of this have I really experienced? I feel so left out, as if I should have been here during the earthquake and tsunami. But what can I do now?”

We talked for a long time, but his deep existential questioning has just begun. Hopefully it will lead him to unfold into a sense of what he is meant to do for those who have and still are suffering tremendously.

The third endeavor that has become part of my life is 500 Frogs. One of the persons involved, Nanci Caron, an occupational therapist in California, was fascinated by the philosophy behind these teeny creatures of hope. “Kaeru” means two things in Japanese. One is “frog” and the other is “to return home.” In addition, frogs carry very rich and deep symbolism in Japanese culture. So images of these wonderful beings seemed an appropriate item to give to children who had suffered great loss during the March 11 trauma and beyond. And for her part in this project Nanci wanted to use small resin-cast frogs, sculpted by her friend, Randy Buckler. Her exact words are better than mine, so here they are:

“Meanwhile, I am busy with the project with my patients, and some of my personal friends. People want to be part of a bigger, creative effort to send a message of hope and caring to the Japanese children. Some of my biggest, toughest, and most ‘complicated’ patients are willing participants in the project .... it provides them an outlet for their spirit of compassion and desire to do something positive for someone. I think having children in mind is the biggest motivator. My patients relate to the feeling of being displaced (because they live in a residential psychiatric hospital), and to the conditions of loneliness and loss. To illustrate the personal touch some of the frogs get, here is one painted by one of my patients - a former tattoo artist. I can imagine this one going to an older child or teenager...”

And the founder of this amazing project, Deb Buckler, has a lot more to add.

“When the earthquake hit Japan, I was heartbroken for those people who had lost so much. And continue to suffer. The economy here is bad, and few people can give money to help out. Sure, you can donate to the Red Cross, or send a few dollars here or there, but I wanted to do something personal. My husband, Randy, and I run a home based resin casting business here on the central coast, and we have a little resin frog that Randy made for fundraising. As it turned out, we happened to have 100 of our little frogs in inventory here, so I went to my groups and asked if folks would like to help paint them so we could send them to the children of Japan. I felt a personally hand painted frog, made in America, would be a nice token of our love and concern for them. Something physical they can put in their pocket and carry around. Possibly their only ‘hand made in America’ item that they owned.

“Well, within moments after I asked for help with the frogs, all 100 were reserved. By the next day, another 400 were reserved, and we are now up to 600 frogs being individually hand painted by folks literally all over the world. Children, adults, groups, families are involved. Because of our connections to these artists, Switzerland and Australia are no further away then my keyboard. So, I am sending frogs to Sweden, Germany, wherever, they paint them, sign them and return them to me. It's quite a process!

“When I started 500 Frogs, my focus was totally the children of Japan. And that continues to be the case. However, as this project evolves, I realize there is more healing going on on the peripheral. As the person holding this frog pours their love and compassion into it, they are receiving a blessing that will enhance this lives forever. I have received some pretty amazing letters already. Nanci's experience with her patients is a good example. But the biggest thrill was when a small, very poor school in Fresno, California painted 30 frogs for the children. These are middle school kids ... 12 to 16 years old, underprivileged and disadvantaged ... so poor, their teacher had to buy the frogs for them and we absorbed the shipping. These kids have nothing, and have always been on the receiving end of society. But now, for once, they were able to give something to someone who had even less then they did. They painted their hearts out on the frogs and most of them wrote such tender, loving letters to the children, they will bring tears when you read them. These kids are so proud of doing this, they are now looking for other 'random acts of kindness' they can do! Much better then figuring out a way to rob the local grocery store again!

“It is my hope, that the children who get these frogs will keep them forever, and will remember that someone, in another country, cared very much about them during their desperate time. Perhaps it will affect that child's decisions toward the rest of the world when he is an adult.”

If you would like more information on this truly remarkable project, please go to http://500frogs.com.

Happily a Japanese friend helped to locate a perfect place for these “hoppers.” On August 20 there will be a children’s festival in Higashi Matsushima, a very badly hit area. The organizer of that event is thrilled with these gifts, coming from so far away and filled with so much love. So, that is where they shall find their homes, in the hearts of the children who receive them.

Photo: Jaime Olmo

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Saying goodbye to David Servan-Schreiber

Wed, 27 Jul 2011 16:07:20 EST

By: Ode

Ode columnist David Servan-Schreiber died on the evening of Sunday, July 24. He was 50. A professor of psychiatry in the US and France, Servan-Schreiber wrote the bestselling Anticancer: A New Way of Life and The Instinct to Heal, both read around the world. In his latest book, published in June in France as On peut se dire au revoir plusieurs fois (“We Can Say Goodbye Several Times”), he faced his impending death. He had been writing his monthly Ode column since 2007.

Servan-Schreiber died of cancer. Last year, doctors discovered a brain tumor had metastasized to other sites in his body. He had been first diagnosed almost twenty years before. In Anticancer, he wrote:

I was diagnosed with a brain tumor for the first time 15 years ago. After surgery and chemotherapy, I asked my oncologist for advice. What should I do to lead a healthy life and what precautions could I take to avoid a relapse? “There’s nothing special to do. Lead your life normally. We’ll do MRI scans at regular intervals and if your tumor comes back, we’ll detect it early,” replied this leading light of modern medicine.

Servan-Schreiber refused to simply accept his fate. He embarked on his own research and developed a method for helping his body protect itself from the disease. It drew heavily on natural defense mechanisms and a new lifestyle based on a changed diet and plenty of exercise and optimism. But it did not offer total protection, as he told Ode in an interview. “I’m not saying we can prevent cancer, because we may get cancer for reasons that are beyond our control. Even if you do all of the things I talk about in my book, there’s not a guarantee that you’ll prevent cancer. It’s about 80 to 85 percent protection, which is still enormous.”

As a traditionally trained psychiatrist with an impressive résumé, David Servan-Schreiber advocated a number of successful complementary therapies. He studied medicine at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, went on to lead a prestigious psychiatric research lab at the University of Pittsburgh, and taught at Carnegie Mellon and the Ecole de Médicine in Lyon, France.

Servan-Schreiber often wrote in Ode about how he was enjoying life after cancer. He also addressed the things that, for him, truly mattered in life: love and friendship. Earlier this year, he wrote: "At the end of our lives, ultimately only one question remains. Did we manage to give others love and did we receive love from others? Did we manage to "be there" for the important people around us, or were we too busy thinking about the next game?”

It is hard to say goodbye to Servan-Schreiber, who kept asking the right questions and inspired us with his optimism and belief in change.

By Elleke Bal

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Meditating on Pema Chödrön's 'Dusk on the River'

Wed, 27 Jul 2011 13:16:12 EST

By: Anne Thomas

Although my main job is in a university, I also teach privately. My favorite of those lessons is an advanced English class for adults. I have been teaching them for many years, so we have become good friends. Since they are well educated and talkative, I always try to introduce topics that will enable them to think deeply and to express themselves freely.

Recently I found the following story by Pema Chödrön in a lovely magazine called Fellowship in Prayer. It is a clear, seemingly simple tale about life as seen from a Buddhist perspective. I added questions (in red), which the students were to discuss one by one as they worked their way through the story. I was curious to hear their thoughts because this piece was written by an American Buddhist for a western audience. And sure enough, I learned a lot from my class the day we studied this tale.

Dusk on the River, A story by Pema Chödrön

A man is enjoying himself on a river at dusk.

What do you imagine he is thinking?

He is in a small boat. And suddenly he sees another boat coming down the river towards him.

What image do you have of this scene? Describe the boats and the people in them.

It seems so nice that someone else is enjoying the river on a nice summer evening.

Do you get pleasure knowing others are enjoying themselves at the same time you are? Give examples.

Then he suddenly realizes the boat is coming towards him faster and faster.

Why do you think this is happening?

He begins to get upset and shouts, “Hey, hey! Watch out! For heaven’s sake, turn aside. Don’t hit me!”

What do you think will happen next?

But the boat just comes faster and faster, right towards him. By this time he is standing in the boat, screaming and shaking his fists.

What do you think he will do next?

Then the boat smashes right into him.

How do you imagine the man is feeling? What do you think he says?

He sees that it is an empty boat.

How do you imagine the man is feeling now? And what is he thinking?

This is the classic story of our whole life situation.

Why does the story end with this statement? What does this mean? Do you agree with it? Please give examples.

My students became very involved in this story, discussing each question from many different angles. Here are a few things they said:

First, they all agreed that as Japanese and Buddhists they would not have become angry that the other boat was coming towards them rapidly. They also said they would not have stood in the boat, screaming and shaking their fists. “We Japanese don’t do that sort of thing,” they reassured me. “We are taught not to express our anger openly. Rather we try to discuss things until we can reach an agreement in which everyone’s point of view is taken into consideration.”

Another student made this comment: “Everyone has good and bad in them. That is natural. So when someone becomes angry, we wait. We are sure that a more positive side will soon come to the fore. We prefer to look upon the good side of others, if we can. And if we cannot, it is better just to walk away.”

“In my case,” said one man, “I would immediately have steered out of the way of the boat racing towards me. Why should I get angry at him, blame him, or expect him to move for me?”

One woman then added, “I would have apologized immediately (to the empty boat, or maybe to her own!), but that is not what a westerner would do, I don’t think. When we get international drivers’ licenses, we are instructed never to say we are sorry if we have an accident. But here in Japan, we always apologize, even if we are not wrong. We say we are sorry for many reasons. The most important is that we want to be polite. Saying we are sorry shows our respect for the other person and we consider saying “Gomen nasai” (I am sorry) to be very polite. Another reason we say we are sorry, even is someone hit us, is because maybe we were in the other person’s way. Or possibly it is because we are sorry to have brought disharmony into the world. Maybe, too, it is because we know that this situation will cause problems for the person in the future. There are so many reasons why we apologize here in Japan. And it most often does not have anything to do with being right or wrong.”

And sure enough a few days after this class a former student sent me an email in which she told me she was getting a divorce. But then she continued by saying, “I must apologize to you about this. You came to my wedding, but now I am divorcing. I feel so bad for doing this to you. I am sorry.” Her comment came as a surprise to me. But then I remembered the strong sense of duty that Japanese feel towards others, often in dimensions that people from other cultures might not even be aware of.

“For me, I see this story as the recent tragic events in this area. The earthquake and tsunami came to us without warning. And then the nuclear problems began and continue. Of course, we are not happy with the nuclear situation or the government’s handling of it. We hope that something will soon be done about those human errors. But we do not go out and shake our fists to show extreme anger. We also did not scream and yell at the awful happenings of nature. Personally the more I think about it, the more I believe the basic psychic structure of the Japanese comes because throughout history we have experienced one huge tragedy after another. We had the enormous Jogan Earthquake in 869 AD. There are mass graves that tell us that thousands of people died then, too. Then in 1611 there was the Keicho Sanriku Earthquake. And in 1671 the Enpo Boso Offshore Quake hit. Also in 1923 there was a tremendous quake and fire in the Tokyo area in which over 100,000 people died. And the recent quake in Kobe caused a lot of deaths, too. We Japanese live on the edge of risk always. And I believe that is why we have learned to accept what comes to us ('Shoga nai,' It can’t be helped.) without getting angry or blaming others.”

“We also have balance,” added another. “We know about the reality of earthquakes and tsunami and the possibility of losing everything very suddenly. But that is not the full picture. We also have a saying that goes like this: ‘When there is an earthquake, go into the bamboo forest.’ Bamboo has long roots, so a bamboo forest is more stable than other areas. And in everyday life, if there is upset or anger, we can always retreat to areas, even inside ourselves, that are stable and secure. Then we wait until the high emotion is past before we try to deal with it.”

Another student saw this story from a different angle. “The boat was empty. I think we live always knowing that life itself is empty. Today we may have things; tomorrow we might not. Even our own life, we have it now, but we know it is passing through us. That is basic to our way of thinking and to how we live each day. That helps us to be acutely aware, and hopefully appreciative of this very moment, now.”

One final comment seemed to sum up a lot. “This story was definitely written by and for westerners. We Japanese somehow live knowing we are part of nature and of one another. And that is true even when nature shows her very destructive side. If you think of the tsunami as unleashed anger, then recent past events have shown us how terrible raging anger can be. That should be a good reminder of why we do not express fury in destructive ways. Also we are not separate and isolated from nature or from others. And we know that we have to work together to survive. I hear that there are people in America who live all by themselves far out in the woods. How do they do that? I can’t imagine it! For us we believe that being part of each other is fundamental to being human. Don’t you think so, too?”

Even though I have lived immersed in this culture for many years, I realize how my own psychic structure and thought patterns still remain very western. So I always appreciate a class like this one. And I am grateful, too, to be nudged yet again towards other ways of being in the world.

Women broadcasting peace in Brazil

Tue, 26 Jul 2011 16:22:32 EST

By: PeaceCorso

So of course you know how once something enters your conscious awareness, you see it everywhere. You will not be surprised that Brazil is showing up all over my reality. Here’s a wonderful story about women in a shantytown in Rio de Janeiro broadcasting peace.

"Women in Favelas Broadcast Peace" By Fabiana Frayssinet

RIO DE JANEIRO, Jul 12, 2011 (IPS) - Local women's voices have begun to be heard over a community radio station now broadcasting in Complexo do Alemao, a clump of favelas or shantytowns on the north side of this Brazilian city that were ruled until recently by armed drug gangs.

Gender issues, social and health matters, local environmental problems, employment and women's rights are the focus of Radio Mulher, or women's radio station, which began to broadcast this month.

Before going on the air, the participants received a year of training about the workings of a radio station, including general courses for all as well as specific training in different areas depending on each woman's role in the station, as determined by each individual's strengths and talents.

The new community radio station operators are aiming to "exorcise" difficult experiences that plague many girls and women in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro and other cities in Brazil. "What are our ghosts? Sexual abuse and rape," Anatalia dos Santos, one of the first 28 women to receive the training, responds to IPS without hesitation.

The radio station wants to tackle these and other thorny issues "that no one wants to talk about, like beatings from husbands, economic dependency on men, mothers who have to raise their children on their own," she said.

"Women appear to be more resilient and combative, but they weren't raised to get a job, to be successful, to make it on their own," said dos Santos, who works as a nursing aide.

Because of this, she said, many women in Complexo do Alemao and other favelas are trapped by the reasoning that "better to live badly with him than worse off without him."

Dos Santos belongs to Mulheres da Paz (Women of Peace), as do the rest of the women at the radio station, which broadcasts in the Complexo and surrounding areas on 98.7 FM.

Women of Peace, a Ministry of Justice programme, recruits community leaders to mediate in conflicts among local residents and try to create a peaceful haven in the favelas.

The women involved in Radio Mulher realise that the cycle of violence cannot be broken overnight, and can only be combated by creating "a culture of peace."

The community radio station is based on the concept of women as logical nurturers of that culture of peace, because of their mothering and caretaking roles, whether these are built-in or learned, said Dacach.

There are important precedents for this social leadership role taken on by women, said the anthropologist. "In Brazil there are a large number of movements of mothers: mothers of missing youngsters and children, of young people who were tortured by the (1964-1985) dictatorship," which form part of the tradition of women involved in political and feminist struggles, community organising, soup kitchens and other initiatives.

Through the community radio station, the women in the Complexo want to make "peace" a tangible, day-to-day reality in the favelas.

The list of issues they plan to deal with include women's health, sexually transmitted diseases, birth control and local environmental clean-up initiatives, said Marcia Rolemberg, head of educational communication in the state environment ministry.

For these women, who come from poor, violent neighbourhoods, there is no shortage of issues to be addressed.

The radio station's first programme dealt with an issue of special interest to the community: the launch of a campaign to prevent dengue fever and the reproduction of the Aedes aegypti mosquito, which spreads the disease. The radio station's campaign has the support of the Health Ministry.

Structured as a friendly chat among neighbour women, the programme moved from issue to issue, ranging from advice on how to keep the neighbourhood free of garbage and standing water in which the mosquitoes breed to how to recognise the first symptoms of dengue fever.

Although the Women of Peace are the operators of the radio station, it will be open to all voices in the community, not only because that is its role as a community station, but also because it is their calling, they explained to IPS during one of the workshops in which they receive ongoing training.

By Susan Corso

For spiritual nourishment, please visit www.susancorso.com

Imai Sensei’s vivid picture of Sendai

Mon, 25 Jul 2011 13:12:07 EST

By: Anne Thomas

My friend Imai Sensei is a Baptist preacher who runs a homeless center here in Sendai. He has been helping victims of the recent earthquake and tsunami. He is my hero through and through. Recently he asked me to edit an article he was sending out to his friends in various countries. He gave me permission to share it here. It gives a very vivid picture of what has been going on here and his very admirable work for those severely affected by the recent disasters.

“The kingdom of God exists within you" – and in the place of the great Japanese earthquake disaster

By Seiji IMAI Associate, Professor of Shokei Gakuin University, President of Sendai Yomawari Group

"God, our Lord, the Creator of heaven and earth, even now you rule history." That was a normal salutation to God, which I said in my liturgy in Sendai-South Baptist Church on the morning of 27 March. To be honest, for a while after the earthquake I could not begin with this salutation. In a time of such terrible events, it is not easy to say something with God as the subject.

On 11 March 2011 at 14:46 clock I was on the telephone with the District Land Transport Bureau in Aomori (North Tohoku). We were consulting about a former homeless person at our shelter on the matter of scrapping his car. At that very moment I was surprised by a great earthquake. Fortunately, our shelter in Sendai is far from the coast, where the earthquake originated. After several seconds, my friend on the other end of the telephone line informed me that the earthquake had just struck there, too. That was when I realized that the southern half of the Tohoku region was closer to the epicenter. As I ran to the entrance of our shelter to open the door to escape, the old building shook violently from side to side. Everything was swinging both vertically and horizontally, as if we were sitting on a tiny boat in the middle of the raging sea. Before my eyes, cracks went through the walls of the house. It looked like a scene from a movie. Then I immediately started to fill the bathtub with water to ensure drinking water. Even at that point in time the tap water was muddy and water was spouting out from a manhole cover like a fountain.

After the main earthquake, which lasted quite a while, we hurried to ensure the safety of the residents of the house. I then instructed everyone to watch out for falling objects, and not to go outside immediately, because of aftershocks. I said, “If a strong earthquake should occur again, I cannot guarantee the security of the house.” Then I told them to seek refuge in the nearest school building. We were also very concerned about another homeless shelter in a coastal area, in which many disabled people lived. But an employee had rushed there immediately and had found that everyone was safe. At that time we knew of the tsunami, but we believed that it would not affect us. We did not know that just two kilometers away from this shelter all hell had broken loose. In the evening I chatted by Skype on my battery-charged iPhone with Ms. Aoyama in Tokyo, whom I had met last year on the way back from Germany via Siberia to Japan. I asked her to take care of my son, who had been on his way to Tokyo for the university entrance examination when the great earthquake happened. I could not make contact with him and was very worried. It was only then, as I talked with Ms. Aoyama, I learned that something very terrible had happened in the coastal area of the city of Sendai, and around the Sendai Airport.

On Ustream of my iPhone and over the hand-generated-power-radio, I at least got minimal information, even if only in fragments. Because the electricity was cut off in the whole city of Sendai, I could not immediately see images on TV of the coastal area after the great tsunami. The next morning I went to a homeless shelter near the coastal area to deliver food and gas bottles. All roads to the coast were blocked. So I had to wait several days before I could see with my own eyes the place of the terrible disaster.

When I went in an area behind the highway-dam on the side toward the sea, horrible scenes that I had never seen before were spread out before me. The eastern coastal area of the Wakabayashi district of Sendai was completely devastated. The tsunami had pounded over the pine forest and palisades and swept away houses and cars. Rubble from them was piled up under the bridge of the East Highway, which functioned as a dike and the last stronghold against the tsunami. I found sleeping bags besides the scrapped cars. Then I knew that the homeless who had lived in cars on the coast and along the dike had fallen victim to the raging tsunami. Other people who were living in cars and who were still alive were not counted in the homeless census by the Ministry of Health, Labor and Welfare (MHLW). It was the same for Internet cafe refugees. The fact that they are not counted in the census means that they are not qualified as beneficiaries of government support.

Immediately after the earthquake, as strong aftershocks continued, we were commissioned by a social welfare office in the city of Sendai, to support a person living in a car who had narrowly escaped the tsunami. Until the tsunami he had parked his car on the coast and had lived there. But fortunately for him, he could no longer endure life in the car and was in the city for consultation at the time of the earthquake. If he had not done so, he would certainly have been a tsunami victim.

As far as we know, many, many people who had lived on boats, in cars, or on the beach were wiped out by the tsunami. If we could have helped those individuals more positively before the disaster, or if MHLW had different principles allowing them to take more effective measures, those people might be alive today. It hurts us deeply in our souls when we think about what could have been. From this we can sadly say that there were various human causes besides the lack of evacuation systems and the nuclear accident in Fukushima that increased the number of victims in this disaster.

The day after the earthquake, the first thing we did was to establish the safety of all of the residents in our homeless shelters and to ensure water and food for the moment. After that I went with Pastor Yasuhiro Aoki of the Sendai-South Baptist Church, who is also the Secretary General of Sendai Yomawari Group, to the administrative office of the Wakabayashi district. We wanted to give information about our situation so that we could distribute our stock and cook rice for the people stricken by the disaster. To give food for the hungry is indeed our normal service. Fortunately, our office uses propane gas, and miraculously had been spared from water supply interruption. Therefore, we could provide food for a hundred people immediately after the earthquake, even though the electric power was out.

But total chaos prevailed in the administrative office of the district, and command structures there were all conflicting. Having been sent from one counter to another, we realized that no one knew what was going on or whom to ask. Finally, someone said: "Please go to the education advisory board, which is in the next building. There is a volunteer center there set up for disaster relief." However, even within 24 hours after the disaster, the volunteer center was not in operation. Emergency supplies had already been transported into the building, but the system of distribution was not yet working. The food had been simply piled up, so the evacuees in the administration building could not eat on a regular basis.

So we came up with a very simple plan. “If the authorities do not offer cooked rice, we will make it ourselves. We would like to give something back to citizens who have supported us. In any case, let's cook and distribute rice until we use up the stock.”

That is how “Curry-Rice-Run” began in front of our office and our church. At that time no one thought that this action would continue every day for two weeks, until the planned move of the office at the end of March. We let people know of our food program in local evening newspapers and on Twitter. "Free distribution of cooked rice, from 11:00 am to 13:00 clock in front of the office of the Sendai Yomawari Group, 17-25 Bunkamachi, Wakabayashi-Ku, while supplies last!" My messages on Twitter were immediately re-Twitted, sometimes as many as 60 times per hour. Of course we provided rice even on rainy days and snowy days.

When we ourselves could not distribute supplies, because of the church service on Sunday mornings, young people sent from the Volunteer Center cooked rice and handed out cans of food. Each day we handed out everything we had: curry rice, pork soup, clam chowder, chicken ramen, canned goods and so on. New contributors and donors, not only of food, came again and again. We gave all the items that they delivered (such as food, clothing, sanitary items, and diapers) to the people coming to our office. The people who had been homeless even before the disaster were ready to help with the distribution of the cooked rice, and also to help the newly homeless citizens by giving them lots of support.

Only now I can tell you that at the beginning we did not have enough stock to feed so many people for so long. We were taking a big chance, but we felt we had to do it. Many homeless people already lived in our shelter. And in order not to interrupt our charity work, we needed to ensure food primarily for employees and their families. If we did not do that, it would the death of our organization. But this extreme emergency situation was calling us to take reckless action. And when we did, we had various positive chain reactions.

Thanks to their generosity many people manifested this magnificent truth: "It is more blessed to give than to receive"(Acts 20:35). For example one unknown citizen gave us a valuable gas bottle she had bought after hours of waiting time. She had stood in a long line since early morning to get it. Also pastors and church members of the Regional Association of Baptists in North Kanto delivered supplies several times and gave us assistance in distributing the cooked rice. They did this even in the earlier stages, before the situation of the nuclear power plants in Fukushima had been firmly established and so no one realized the danger of going through that affected area.

At first we could not talk about God. It was not possible at all even to call upon God. We were too focused on the here and now. Our lifeline to the rest of the world had been cut off and no one knew when it would be restored. Nevertheless, we were able to do very practical things, like providing food for many people after the earthquake. The people were helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. And we kept reminding ourselves that Jesus of Nazareth, despite the refutation of his disciples (Mk 6:37), had dared the distribution of food with only five loaves and two fishes (V.41). We realized it was exactly the same with our twelve years of supporting the homeless and with the dire situation after the tsunami. We knew in the depths of our hearts that we were following Jesus of Nazareth. "Give us today the bread we need" (Matthew 6:11). "The kingdom of God exists within you" (Luke 17:21). Surely now we could hear the cry of Jesus, which has survived over eons of time and is still very much alive.

As you read this report, the lifeline to basic services will have been restored in many places. But there are huge differences between the parties concerned, depending on whether they were directly affected by the tsunami or not. Attitudes towards work, courage, and time to rebuild are as different between people as heaven from earth. We still have a long road ahead for full recovery and reconstruction. The media will leave here and then no story on the disaster will be reported on TV. But we are still in need of your help. Please notice this, pray, and continue your active help! We need you, dear readers, for further assistance in the ongoing work that lies ahead. Thank you.

And as I said in one of my letters, if you would like to contribute to Imai Sensei’s work, here is how to do it: Go to www.yomawari.net. This site will be in Japanese, but if you look on the right, you can see “Donations” and “Emergency Supplies.” There you can find full details on how to send money or much needed goods.

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Honoring the spirit that clings

Sat, 23 Jul 2011 13:31:27 EST

By: Anne Thomas

The other day my friend Junko came rushing into my apartment. She was all excited and said, “Listen to what happened to me. I just went to get a massage. You know how much trouble I have been having ever since I started washing all those jars and cans after the tsunami. I have had to do that sort of hard work for my company for about a month now and it is awful! And my body is a real mess. When I was there getting a massage, they put glass ball suction cups on me to try and get the blood moving in certain very painful parts of my body. But when they did that, the whole area because grossly purple. The purple part is normal but mine was almost black it was so purple. Sasaki Sensei went to get ‘Papa’ (the boss) to ask for his advice.”

“Papa” is a seer. He can see spirits around people. Not everyone has them, but when they do and when the spirits cause trouble, “Papa” tries to help.

“You have a spirit clinging to you,” he told Junko. Then he began to massage her painful arm very gently and to chant a Buddhist prayer, calling Jiso San to come and take the desperate child away. When he had finished, Junko felt so much lighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her.

When she talked to me, she was both astonished and glad. Astonished that the soul of a recently deceased child had clung to her for help. When Junko began the clean-up job after the tsunami, she kept having dreams of drowning, and of desperate attempts to escape. “Papa” told her that she was very sensitive to the world of spirits, so they were turning to her in their desperation. Junko called herself “an easy target” for them. So, she was glad to finally be rid of this spirit who had been pulling at her for weeks.

However, as I listened to her, my reaction was a bit different. For me this was not a time to view this soul’s attachment as a bad thing. From what Junko had told me, it seemed this particular soul was of a small child who had died in the tsunami. It was obviously confused. I remember reading something that Edgar Cayce once said. He pointed out that when souls die unexpectedly, in an accident for example, for a while they often do not realize that they have died. They are very confused as they wander in a state between earthly life and timelessness. So for me rather than look with horror upon what was happening, it was more a time of deep responsibility towards the child who was clinging to her.

“Junko, why not pray for the child? If you brush her away, she will only try to find someone else to cling to. If she comes to you again, then talk to her. Tell her that she is no longer alive on earth. Tell her to turn around and see angels. They are there to help her and to show her the way to heaven. Don’t let your own ego get involved in this. You seem to be more sensitive than others, so you have the responsibility to do something positive for those who come to you for help.”

And it seems others feel as I do. A few days after Junko came to my apartment, she and I went to Sendai Airport and Arahama. Even though more than two months have passed since the first major earthquake and tsunami, the devastation was still unbelievable. There are mountains of crushed cars and rubble from broken homes, vast expanses of leveled villages and farms, paddies flooded with salt water, a strange odor of burnt metal, and a pervading sense of desolation and deep sadness. Yet in among the jumble of desolation there was a tiny makeshift altar where a child’s body had been found. That place of respect had plastic flowers, stuffed toys, one small shoe, and a Jiso statue holding its hands in silent prayer.

Later I read in the newspaper that an 82-year-old flute aficionado named Watanabe Kyoichi and his wife Ruiko had been missing since this tragedy began. People who loved them and adored their music went to the site of their home, now a pile of rubble, and gave a kocarina wooden flute concert there. They played for the souls of those two musicians whom they respected and honored. Everyone knew that the concert itself, played from the depths of the heart, connected all those concerned with love, whether they were physically alive or not.

No one can be fully sure of spirit entities. Some believe, some do not. Some have seen or sensed them, some have not. But I do know that even now the cries of the deceased can be heard everywhere. They are in the wail of the crows, the sighing of the wind, and the pattering of the rain. The earth itself very deeply resonates with silence and sadness. There is an underlying sense of profound tragedy everywhere, even though we all are soldiering on with our lives.

Last week classes began again in the prestigious women’s university where I teach. The students are putting on the usual show of the latest outfits and make-up, the most trendy struts and gestures. But even so, there is something that runs much deeper. Faces are drawn, cheeks are hollow, eyes are framed by dark circles. We have all lost something. Yes, we have been through hell, and some are still in it. Some are dealing better than others, some having a harder time. But I am glad to once more be back with young, eager minds. I love their openness to life, their dreams for the future, and their exploration of what it means to be blossoming into adulthood. This school year will be positive, I trust, because we are all working for a more stable life and a better world together.

Shifting out of survival mode in Sendai

Fri, 22 Jul 2011 12:39:44 EST

By: Anne Thomas

I am very fortunate in that work had not yet begun whilst I was involved in the significant task of moving, so I could give myself over fully to that enjoyable, but demanding task of evolving this place into a home. Actually, I realized I had never really done this before. At least not in this way. I have moved often, but each time I resettled, I was given hand-me-down furniture and furnishings. So my homes have been hodgepodge at best, very dumpy at worst. But this time the rumbling, jerking earth did an amazing amount of damage to my furniture; or maybe everything was so old that one piece after another succumbed to its own inner rot and pre-earthquake brokenness. Whichever, I find I have had to refurbish my home with new things this time. Mostly shelves, lots of them. But also a table and a chair, and various other odds and ends that hold a home together. This process of thinking about what would make pleasant living space and going out to find it has been an interesting involvement and observation for me.

The moving itself was quite an experience. One professional moving company refused to enter my old shack to help me; they found it too dangerous to step foot inside. But fortunately, another was less exacting. Plus eleven energetic friends kindly came to the rescue. Between all of us lugging boxes down a narrow lane to the waiting cars and then squeezing ourselves one after another through the small entranceway of this apartment, we managed to get all of me from there to here in less than three hours. Then we sat amid boxes and books to enjoy a lunch of huge rice balls and jello made by my loving helpers.

For about ten days afterwards I purchased and assembled bookshelves, arranged my still-too-many belongings neatly, and realized I would have to cover the one room of "western flooring" before I scratched and marked the lovely wood beyond repair. I bought tatami matting for that floor, so now I am more traditional all through this place. (The other two rooms have tatami floors.) In fact, when the tottering old landlord met me, he said, "I heard you wanted tatami, so I knew it would be all right to rent to this foreigner. You are the first, so we were not sure."

A former student took me to a home center to make these floor purchases. I have a terrible time making up my mind with things involving measurements, but felt pressure to get this finished before classes began, making my time no longer be my own. When I mentioned that to my student, she said, "Anne Sensei, I have never heard you sound like an American before. Don’t rush things. Take your time and get what you really want. We can always come back another time."

The real estate agent, when I asked him if this place were safe, responded with earthquakes in mind. I was thinking more of thieves since this apartment is on the first floor, tucked back. I never worried about that sort of thing in my old shack. It was in a neighborhood in which everyone had known each other for generations. I usually left the door unlocked and the postman would sometimes reach in and put my mail directly on the table. But here is different. It is an apartment complex, so there is less a sense of continuity. When the real estate agent realized my meaning of theft, not earthquakes, he carefully explained that break-ins take about three minutes: one to cut the glass, one to flip the lock and enter, one to snatch and depart. People here tend not to smash glass, as it would make too much noise and alert the neighbors. Everyone lives very close together here. So, the landlord had installed a very simple device to lock the sliding doors in two places, making a fast entry and exit virtually impossible. I felt relieved. Having my flat next to the landlord’s daughter’s makes me feel safer, too. I have not thought about this sort of thing since moving to Japan, where life is very safe compared to other places in the world. But my instincts go into alert when I am faced with a new situation, so I asked just to be sure.

I wake up each day and wonder, "What new thing will I learn today? What does today have to teach me?" And I find every day does indeed reveal unexpected bits of wisdom. I sprained my elbow assembling my bookcases, for example, and when I went for a massage, the man told me to use my baby and ring fingers for gripping, not the middle or index. "If you can learn how to use your hands that way, you will never get tennis elbow again. You know how the Yakusa sometimes have their baby fingers cut off? When they lose a fight, the winner will cut off their opponent’s source of power, the baby finger." I am still trying to master this skill. I am not there yet, but I can definitely feel a difference in my arms from my efforts to retrain myself in this manner.

I have also learned how important it is to place everything low down. I used to have tall shelves, but they crashed when the big quakes hit. So, now all my bookcases and kitchen shelves are waist high, no more. Also I noticed in a nearby hospital that all the TVs are now on the floor, not high up. They were also tied securely to the wall. Shops still have survival items for sale in prominent places: wide tape, heavy-duty string, strong flashlights, and small camping stoves. All are much needed items these days. We know another big quake could easily come anytime. In fact, we have been told the "danger" time for another major quake is one year.

I have learned lots of other practical things, too. For example, Izumi taught me to leave my futons open while I eat breakfast. That way they have a chance to cool and will not mold when folded up in the closets. This building is made of steel, not wood, so does not breathe like my old house did. Mold will be a constant challenge here, she warned me.

She also taught me that there are various sizes of tatami rooms. They are sized by "jo." Old sizes are bigger than new, even though both have the same number of "jo." So, when calculating things for your home, you have to know whether you have old or new sizes. Fortunately my apartment is old by Japanese standards, but well refurbished, so I have a bit more room than I would if I were in a very modern place. It is in my genes to have my home bulging with items of love and beauty, so I am very grateful for the few centimeters of extra space.

Another friend told me to immediately wash my new tatami with warm water. "You must ring the warm water out of a rag and then rub down each mat several times. There is a lot of dust and bits of grass in new tatami," he explained. "So it is important to get them very clean before you start using them."

From the window of my new place I can see a small cedar forest. I was told that those tall dark trees, which now cover many parts of this country, were introduced by the Americans after World War II. They were a perfect solution to the housing problem. Their tall, arrow-straight trunks were perfect for beams and uprights of wooden homes.

I have learned from this experience that perfect moving gifts are ones that are very practical. I was very fortunate and grateful to receive liquid hand soap, packaged food of all sorts, hand cream, and a pump that sucks water out of my bathtub into the washing machine. Gift giving is part of the fabric of this culture. So much so that there are set times for expressing gratitude via reciprocal presents: mid-summer and at the end of the year. And giving is indeed tit-for-tat. So in June I will follow the national tradition of sending Thank-You-In-Return gifts to everyone who has helped me so far this year. I will probably send fish, noodles, or fruit.

In the past few years the local government has been consolidating villages into larger political units. And as they do so, they have been sweeping away the names of places, absorbing them into larger cities. This obliteration of names is seen as practical and efficient. However, recent events are revealing the wisdom of the old. One place where hundreds of people were swept away in a matter of minutes was called "Arahama." That translates as "Rough Beach." Realizing the perfect match of that name and the recent tragedy there, authorities were reminded that the traditional names actually described what a locale was like. And as in the case of "Arahama," they served as a warning for possible disaster. If people had paid attention to that name, they may not have built their homes, businesses, and farms there. So now they are beginning to question the renaming of places. Even though old names may be less efficient administratively, in the long run, they may prove to be a better choice.

Another thing I have witnessed is that for the average Japanese the pursuit of happiness is not a fundamental driving force, as it is in some cultures. Rather in this country the ideal seems to be to accept life’s challenges without complaint and to work hard dealing with them, and possibly, if you are lucky, some day to overcome them. It seems that for most Japanese deep satisfaction from strong endeavor is far more important and respected than one’s own personal happiness.

And yet, there is a very deep appreciation of beauty here. Also people’s feelings matter a great deal. Often business transactions of any sort start with a bit of chitchat to make the atmosphere pleasant. The other day, for example, when a large, muscular delivery man came to my home, I greeted him by saying what a lovely day it was. He agreed and added that it was a real pleasure to be delivering goods that day because he could enjoy all the flowers in people’s gardens and the few cherry blossoms that were still holding on. I smiled at the Japanese flavor of his sensitivity, which being so innate to him, he was completely unaware of.

I have found it fascinating watching myself and others shift out of pure survival mode. The first change I noticed in others was in fashion. Some young women went right back to their trendy clothes of micro-mini skirts and spiked heels. I was startled at first, because their flimsy, overly revealing outfits seemed totally out of place. But a friend said it might be their way to get back to normal life as quickly as possible. Yet, I wonder why they chose to do so by going back to how they were before instead of moving forward into something that more closely reflected their new selves. With adults it is different, of course. With them outer appearance seems less crucial. Instead I sense a relief and appreciation that daily life is slowly getting back to normal.

Personal post-survival changes are many. The first after I moved was to start sleeping in pajamas instead of in street clothes. Plus I started to wash my hair more often. And then I got a haircut. My hands have become torn and very tough from all the packing, unpacking, building and arranging. So, I have started using creams and wearing gloves even when I am not hard at work. I also change my clothes daily now. And I take the time to cook full meals and to actually sit down to eat them. I hand write letters (because of no Internet connection). And I do stretching exercises each morning rather than leaping out of bed with my mind bursting with things to do.

I have not started to read yet, however. But I can feel myself becoming ready for T’ai Chi classes again. Most high ceilings collapsed with the violent shaking, so we are waiting for a place to open up where lessons can be held. And my drawing is less frantic, less a way to keep me from going mad. Even these generic letters, which at first were the glue that held me together and helped give shape to what was happening, are no longer the center of my focus. They are a pleasure, but no longer a desperate need.

Probably most importantly I have relearned - acutely - how crucial friends are. My individualistic childhood culture admires people who "go it alone," who make decisions for themselves, and who are independent. There is great pride in that pioneer-kind of mentality. There is much good in that, of course. But here in this collective culture of admitted dependency, people realize survival and the quality of life depend on connection to others. During all the upheavals of this time, I realize that without the love and support of friends, I would have been very desperate indeed. Five weeks as a welcomed member of Izumi’s household, all of the generous friends who helped me move, (including my old neighbor who at first was annoyed that so many were traipsing past his gorgeous garden, but who finally brought out his beloved red wheelbarrow for us to haul my many bundles of books), who took me to home centers to refurbish my apartment, and who accompanied me to government offices to register address changes, the smiles and support of the oldsters in my former neighborhood, and the kindness of the folks in this apartment complex - all are part of the fabric of this monumental experience. And without those wonderful people, where would I be? Indeed, who would I be?

Next week classes in the university start. And then my energy and focus will shift once again. This luxury, albeit exhausting, of time to reflect and to deliberately recreate my life without interruption will be over and I, too, will plunge back into “normal” life once again. I am growing eager to meet my students, to hear their stories and tell them mine. And I am very curious to see how things will be different at my job - and how much will be the same.

Photo by gfpeck via Flickr

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