MOTHER TERESA,

   


     This is a close up photograph of Mother Teresa's foot. As you can see, she has deformed toes, they are gnarled and pressed in the wrong directions. Why you may ask? Was it a birth defect, the result of an accident, the side effects of a disease or illness? No, it was none of those. The mission organization that Mother Teresa worked for used to receive a shipment of used shoes to be distributed amongst those that needed them. This amazing woman used to dig through that pile of shoes and find the very worst pair. She would take them for herself regardless of how badly they may have fitted. What was her reason for this seemingly mad act ? It was so those who she was caring for, those that she was loving did not have to put up with the worst pair of shoes. She wanted to love them and wanted them to have the best of the worst rather than the worst. Doing this for many years deformed her feet. She crippled herself showing love and compassion to those that had nothing. That is uncomfortable love at its finest....



Why am I showing you this picture of Mother Teresa's foot? Actually, it's amazing that I saw this post on Facebook today! At my meeting with Mr. P. we discussed codependency again. To quote one of the books that Mr. P. always carries with him and uses in therapy with clients, "Codependency is when we sacrifice our values and opinions in fear of rejection or anger of others." 

     All through our session I asked: "What about giving up your own desires to further the purpose of the whole?" - or - "What if one wants to keep peace and save good atmosphere in the house and therefore, keeps her opinions to herself?" 

     Every time Mr. P. answered and was able to convince me that I should be loved and appreciated in spite of the difference of opinions or my mistakes. If what it took for my close ones or my friends or church to care for me that way was my always trying to please them and denying my own needs for comfort, dignity, fairness, - then they and I exist in a sick relationship of using and letting them use me. 

     I came away pretty much believing it. Of course, doing something to change my circumstances is another story. Every time I feel that I should stand up for myself to Taka in a principled way, that Mr. P. is trying to instill in me, I chicken out. Don't get me wrong: I have no trouble arguing with Taka or yelling at him, but that doesn't bring any positive change. I guess, I am... I am not yet confident in my own ability to elicit that change in Taka. 

     That's it! I do lack that ability! I did not cause him to be insecure and a tyrant, I can not change him! I can only rely on my Heavenly Father and the adherence to my principles. 

     What about Mother Teresa? Doesn't her example prove Mr. P. and me wrong? She spent her whole life in and achieved much success by her amazing self-sacrifice and discipline. What would our world be like without people like her or without someone making that kind of sacrifice for the sake of others? 

     The difference here is that, she didn't do it because of fear of rejection or anger. She was secure enough in herself to do it because she relied on God and her principles!     

MORIKO

Moriko

     Bunsa was still very weak. Moriko took him out to the back yard, where the fresh air and the beauty of the forest could help him get better. She noticed that he was more irritable with her than usual, but didn't realize that it was more than just the post-illness stress. For his sake, she tried to be more affectionate and cheerful, pouring all her love on him, like only the Japanese women can. Gradually, Bunsa put aside his fear and opened his heart to Moriko once again. The old man stayed with them for a few weeks, while the affected village still needed his help.      
     On a balmy summer evening, the old man and Bunsa enjoyed a game of Shogi, the Japanese chess. The old man took it easy on Bunsa, he let him win a few matches in a row. He stood by the open door to the back yard, looking into the approaching dusk. He noticed something in the trees and exclaimed: "Oh!" Then suddenly his face changed, he became pale and had to sit down quickly. Moriko came in from one of her foraging trips with a bird that she snared in the forest and noticed that something was wrong. She ran up to him, asking about the reason for his distress, but he only gazed at her with widely opened eyes. All night long, they heard him pacing in a tiny room where he lived. The old man went back to his town shortly after. He never explained to them, what shocked him that day. 
     A few months passed. Moriko and Bunsa became closer than ever. The life in the village was beginning to get back to normal, if you can call normal the pain in so many people's hearts for the loss of their loved ones: 
     "the gods of death have passed me over...autumn dusk". 
     In the first month of a new winter, Moriko found out that she was pregnant again. What was she to do? She wanted this child more than anything else in her life, more even than life itself. But the memory of the previous pain urged her to fear the possibility of another loss. Bunsa, although reeling with joy, understood his wife's misgivings. He gently tried to allay her worry. Three crucial months passed without a problem. Moriko dared to hope again. She started to disappear in the woods like before, but now she came home radiant with health. 
     The baby was born in the autumn. He was big and hale, but a line of pale hair ran down his spine from the nape of the neck to a small bottom. After the initial shock, the father was told that it happens sometimes and does not portend a bad omen. The mother didn't let the boy off her arms. She nursed, changed and cooed to him, singing and talking to him all the time. Both parents were delighted by this little miracle that the gods granted them after so many trials. 
     "a baby boy cries for milk...glorious blossoms." 
     They called their child Kokuro - heart, spirit.



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MEETINGS, CARS AND BABY SHOWERS

     

Another meeting. If you followed my blog, you'd know that Mr. P. created another group of Al Anon from his clients, mostly. Last night we met at a restaurant in Alameda. I picked up Doris and together we went to fetch Theresa and Whitney. Whitney said that her car's battery needed to be charged, which meant to her that we had to take her little sedan. All of us became concerned, though, that, after she turns it off and it sits waiting for us for two hours, it might not start again, and we'll all be stranded far from home. Finally, Theresa rode in a car with Whitney and Doris and I drove together. 

     It turned out to be a wise decision, because just as the meeting got under way, Whitney's son called and said that he left his important notebook in her car. She had to leave, and we thanked our lucky stars for having good intuition!
     There were quite a few people at the meeting, but not enough to make it impersonal. We sat around a table in a large booth. One man had a birthday and brought a big cake to celebrate it with all of us. The manager of the restaurant found one candle which we lit and sang an enthusiastic: "Happy Birthday!" 
     The reading and sharing went well, I think, everyone felt that it was a new beginning. The feeling of camaraderie was there, even though some of us didn't know each other.
     Today Doris and I met at a Mexican cafe in her little town near where I live (to you it, probably, seems like I go from one eating establishment to another).  The reason for it, besides just wanting to spend time with a friend, was that Sveta, the mother of the Little Red Headed Monster, is about to have a baby, and we want to give her a baby shower. I imagine, this tradition does not exist in other countries than the U.S., so I'll explain (if you know what it is, bear with me, please!). 
     Before a lady who is in an interesting condition (pregnant) gives birth to her first child, her women-friends and relatives organize a small party for her, where she gets pampered, humiliated (many don't enjoy        the close attention that a guest of honor  experiences at such a gathering). They also get many gifts for a baby and a new mom. 
     This is Sveta's third child, so you might ask, why do we bother? The answer: she never had a baby shower before a-a-and could use some community support. I just hope that we are not going to be too late; she is about to have that baby very soon!

SISTER SKYPED

     My sister Skyped."What's new?" - she asked, even though we talked just the day before. I repeated everything that we already discussed some hours ago and struggled to find what to talk about next. She needs support. I can't imagine, what she is going through trying to get used to the idea of battling cancer again. How bitter her thoughts must be!
     Her husband, Grisha, cares for her very much. I expected him to go to pieces at the news of impending operation and chemotherapy that Lera has to undergo, but he seems too cheerful! Is it for her sake or is he giddy with the knowledge of impending difficulties?
     My one prayer is that she will call on her Higher Power to help her deal with the sickness. How much better her and Grisha's existence  would be with the awareness that something bigger than themselves is involved in every detail of their lives and cares for their eternal happiness! Pray for them, would you?

Lera and Grisha at her Birthday

MORIKO

Moriko

     The next time Bunsa was called to work in another village, Moriko couldn't go with him: she was pregnant. Bunsa could hardly wait to get back home, but when he ran up the steps and into the front room of his house, there was nobody there to greet him. The whole place had a feeling of neglect that chilled Bunsa to the bone. He found Moriko in the back yard. She looked at him with the empty, hollow eyes, and he knew the truth. She miscarried. Holding her gently, he felt the salt of his tears in his mouth. He was so upset, that she had to go through the terror of losing a child without him! Moriko didn't cry. She quietly hugged him, with all her might. 
     Time after time, Moriko got with a child and lost it in the first three months. Her songs stopped. She went about the house in a pragmatic, efficient way, made meals and did everything a good wife should do, but the joy of life left her eyes. The only time she looked half her old self, was in the forest. Bunsa tried to go with her like before, but she softly, but with the steel in her voice, told him to stay home. She spent hours in the woods now and came back like a wild woman: with twigs and leaves sticking in her unbound hair. Her eyes looked at Bunsa and the household as if she couldn't right away recognize them. "Outliving them, Outliving them all, - ah, the cold!" 
     Whether Bunsa was the one to bring cholera to Shnano-machi or not, nobody could tell. The fact was, he returned from a trip with a fever. It got worse in the night. The vomiting and bloody diarrhea quickly stole his strength and left him limp and lifeless. Nothing that Moriko or the village doctor did helped him. This was a new kind of sickness, that nobody in the countyside experienced. Soon, half of the Shinano-machi's population was horribly ill. Moriko stopped going to the forest; day and night she stayed by Bunsa's bed, wiping the bitter sweat off his brow, bringing him water and washing him. She changed sheets often, but very soon they were soiled again. Bunsa laid on the bed, but his restless, tortured spirit roamed the rooms and the decimated village. In his fevered mind, he felt Moriko's cool hand on his forehead and blessed her name, but, sometimes, it seemed to him that, the fox was looking at him from the bedside! The little fox, that he met on the way to Shinano-machi! It was then that the first suspicions took root in his brain. Surely, it was Moriko, softly cajoling him to take a sip of water! But the next thing he saw, were the black tips of the fox's ears and it's tail, as it turned away from him. 
     Moriko was at her wits' end. She went into the woods and brought back the bark of 'yanagi' - the willow tree. She boiled it and forced Bunsa to swallow the desperately bitter liquid. His fever went down, but he was still lost in his imaginings. Once, there was a quiet knock on the door and a greeting: "Konnichiwa, konbangwa!" The old man came to Shinano-machi, to offer his aid to the dying people. Moriko was never more glad to see anyone else! Together they tended to Bunsa and to some of their neighbors. The use of the willow bark and the old man's suggestion that they should gather all the sick in one place and burn the dead and their houses and belongings, made a huge difference. Slowly the village revived. People helped each other to rebuild and continue with the business of life.


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MORIKO

Moriko

     The dogs were the first to meet them in the village. Bunsa noticed it before: his wife was terrified of dogs. Her family didn't have any mangy curs slinking about their yards, but when she ventured into her small town, she always kept a stout cane with her and ran into a shop at the first sight of a dog. The canines here were bolder and more vicious. In no time at all, Bunsa and Moriko were surrounded by a circle of barking and snarling beasts. Bunsa abandoned the cart that he was pushing and leapt to his wife's defense. A few well placed blows at least slowed down the attack and gave time for the villagers to come to their guests' aid. Soon the dogs were dispersed and Bunsa and Moriko welcomed into the town.The couple was installed in a house where they were going to rent a room for the next few weeks. The place was tiny; it was originally supposed to house only one person. Moriko didn't mind. She wiped the dust and put a few possessions that they brought with them in their proper places. The owner of the house was an old man. He, obviously, was rich because in all the time that they spent there, they didn't see him do anything in a way of usual work. All day long, he read old texts and wrote. He also took long walks in the woods outside the village. He liked Moriko right from the first and plied her with tea and mochi. 
     Bunsa went to work the next morning. Moriko made breakfast for the old man and cleaned the house. That left a lot of time for her to wonder, what she was going to do with herself, while Bunsa was working. She didn't want to go outside for the fear of the dogs. A few of them hung by the old man's house, waiting for her to come out. Moriko looked out the window, moved around the living room, im'a, running her fingers through the multitude of the manuscripts lying on every surface. She already missed Bunsa. The old man came in, saw her listless figure. "A body of dust 
lighter than dust...little butterfly", he thought. He asked, what was the matter. He told her to get ready to go outside, took a heavy stick waiting in the corner by the door, and they walked out into the street. At the sound of the old man's voice, and encouraged by the weight of the stick on their hides, the terrified dogs scattered. The old man took Moriko right to the building site, where Bunsa worked. He left the stick for Moriko and went home.      
     So, that was how it went for the next few weeks. In the early afternoon, the old man would see Moriko to the street, to give her courage to brave the streets alone. She then made her way to the building site. Sometimes, Bunsa didn't notice, when she came. He would lift his head from whatever he was doing and see her, sitting on a log, hugging knees to her chest. The look on her face was enough to make him smile.


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MORIKO

     When I started this book, I thought, it will be about my husband's family in Japan. Since its so hard to get the facts from the land of the rising sun, I decided to write a fictional story. So, its based a little on my hubby's family, but they would, probably, be upset, if they thought that I am writing THIS about them. Its a fiction. OK?
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Moriko

     After spending a week with Moriko, Bunsa couldn't imagine living any other way. She was the reason he woke up in the morning and went about his day, and she was the reason why he almost ran back home in the evening. Moriko's parents gave the newlyweds a little cottage at the edge of their property. The forest came right to the backdoor there. Moriko claimed a few yards of the land for a small garden, but more often than not, she'd go into the woods and bring back some mushrooms, herbs and tubers for their meals. Bunsa never saw most of those plants in his life. Nagano was the landlocked prefecture; the people there didn't have the benefit of fishing for their food in the sea. The results of Moriko's foraging were the most nutritious part of their diet. Apart from being the lucky husband, who would've quickly began to get a nice belly if he didn't work so hard, Bunsa felt deep joy when he stepped into his house or even just thought of his wife. When he came home in the afternoons, she was always gardening or walking in the forest or sitting in the sweet smelling grass by the trees. He would join her there, and spend time together, gazing into the dizzying blue skies, holding her, until the thoughts of the daily life would intrude on their bliss.
     When the time came for Bunsa to go to another village for a carpeting job, Moriko was inconsolable. Overnight her face became swollen with tears. She grieved so much, that Bunsa couldn't resist her pleas anymore: he agreed to take her with him. It was a few hours' walk away from Shinano-machi, but they spent some time running in the trees and just taking in the lush splendor of a forest around them. Later, Bunsa would think of those few hours as the happiest in his whole life! Moriko seemed to become more alive among the green. Like a new leaf, she unfurled and delighted Bunsa with her own beauty and liveliness. She found some things for them to eat for lunch, and they cuddled in a small clearing. Bunsa knew form her parents that they adopted Moriko, but here, in the bird-song filled woods, she told him the whole story. One day, her folks found an infant girl behind that same cottage, where Bunsa and Moriko lived now. She lay, naked as a jay, in the grass amid the trees and screamed her little head off! They never found out, whose baby she was. Some people said, they saw a young pregnant woman wandering in those parts, some claimed that they espied a whole band of strangers, but Moriko's father and mother knew, it was a blessing from the gods: for many years they couldn't have their own children. This didn't make Bunsa doubt his young bride, but he appreciated the wonder and the mystery of her even better than before. "Mori" means forest in Japanese, "ko" - a child of. It was an unusual name, but he understood now, why Moriko's parents were compelled to give it to her.

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