merry-go-round

I always told myself that I won't necessarily go to law school next year, or ever; but after getting accepted by a few schools, going to law school just seems like such a easy next step that it's hard to think outside of the box. This past week, as I am hearing (and even more so...not hearing) back from certain law schools, the thought runs circles in my head "What am I doing next year? The year after? What is my ultimate goal? Why?"

The answers are all the same "I don't know. Hopefully, something meaningful" which is really something that I can reinterpret however I want, whenever I want. Which makes me wonder, how do we ever truly know we're doing what makes us happy versus it being some justification we fabricate to ensure that we are at least content.

In other news, R is coming to visit in 3 days. It'll be the intersection of two completely different worlds and I am counting down the days.

Tsunami Warning

After waking up at 4pm due to a headache and weak constitution I was welcomed an hour later by an earthquake. I have a habit of counting how long an earthquake lasts so I counted

1....2...3.... while staring up at the ceiling and watching the light sway above me

20...21....22.... this was getting a bit long and the intensity wasn't stopping

43....44...45.... maybe I should get under the table and duck and cover like I learned as a kid in California

62....63...64.... this is making my headache so much worse

76...77... I'm starting to lose count but an earthquake that lasts this long can't be good news

S rushes back into the house and turns on the TV. There's a tsunami warning. Seriously? I can't quite believe what's happening so I grab two things: my laptop and my dog, Momo.

We drive the car to the other house and make sure that everyone is in a vehicle and ready to escape. From there we drive toward the mountains and get stuck in traffic 3/4 of the way there. Still dazed I look out the window at the line of cars--how long does it take before a tsunami hits? Some people are on foot, carrying backpacks and valuables. One old man walks by with nothing but a rice cooker and the clothes on his back. I think to how I left both my wallet and passport at the house.

After waiting for somewhere around an hour and listening to the radio announcer repeat over and over (in Japanese) "This is a tsunami warning, please relocate to higher ground. Please run away to higher ground. Do not ever stop running", we finally decide that it is probably safe and head home. The juxtaposition of the continuous warning and the site at home was stark. Our home was completely undisturbed and dry.

News reports state that the earthquake was magnitude 7.3 off the coast near Sendai (about an hour away) with a possible tsunami reaching 2.9 meters. However, the actual tsunami was 1 meter and did not travel very far. The shadow of the 3.11 earthquake and tsunami still looms over Japan as warnings and precautions are taken, perhaps even more than necessary. 

Finding the Every Day

Today R asked me, "what do you think about your experience in Japan so far?"

It's strange to think that I have been here for as long as any summer internship normally lasts. The time I have spent here so far has been as long as the time I spent in South Africa or at Innosight. I should feel like I've spent quite a long time here, but instead this still feels like the beginning (I guess it's all relative).

At this point I guess I should have an opinion on my time here, and upon further thought, I guess I do.

I came with the expectation, that I imagine a lot of people doing development work for the first time have, that I was going to make a big difference in peoples' lives. Like a prime-time drama there would be tears, confessionals, and a life changing moment. This notion was quickly dispelled. I soon realized that the work that we do here is not life changing. In fact, the last thing the survivors of the tsunami need is more change in their lives. Instead what we do is life supporting and repairing. One of our events happens every Saturday and helps survivors get through their troubled times one week at a time.

For a while it wasn't apparent to me what I was doing was making a difference--each Saturday we would haul tables and chairs from our shed to the community center and then rush around setting up and making meals for the 70 odd people who showed up. Recently however, L, one of the organizers of the event, shared with me one of the ladies' stories. This old lady was having a lot of trouble coping with the aftermath of the tsunami and it was our weekly Saturday event that she looked forward to. It kept her feeling positive about life. L has promised to spend time next week retelling all the stories she's heard from the Saturday events, but even hearing that one story has made me realize that even the most mundane things can make an enormous impact.

Through these past two months I've realized that there is no magic moment where you change someone's life for the better. Instead, recovery is a long day-to-day process of trying to redefine normal. It can be mundane. It can be repetitive. But that's life.