Seasons and Spirit of Some Swedish Sacraments

First published on December 26, 2013, here it is again as we wrap up a beautiful holiday season!!

Ladies giving out free Glugg (mulled wine--warm and sweet) along with PapparKakkor (paper thin ginger cookies).  This is a common site around Christmas time, and it always warms the heart!!

In the US, the tradition was modern.  Not modern to the US, but modern!  And so, much of it has become commercial.  Starts with New Year party hats, party favors, balloons, candles and plastic champagne glasses being sold.  Parties around New Years are organized –and very few question that seriously New Year could start any day of the year. 

Hand made Wreaths being sold in town: Karlstad, Sweden.  Can you smell the cinnamon? 

Eld Konst:  The Fire Festival, one of the newest creations.  Only 12 years old, if continued this might become a well anticipated tradition during the coldest time of the year.  Karlstad, Sweden, December 2013

Funnily enough, in a country like India where we have nearly two dozen New Year celebrations, we still continue to go crazy on December 31^st.  

In the US, before the new year is even a week old, red, pink and chocolates grace the store windows reminding us, that love ‘must’ be in the air.  Just when you are done gulping the last sip of wine, after your romantic date, you walk out to see all green—all four leaf clover—waving a St. Patrick’s Day in.  And you have probably not even arrived at your number for the long que for green beer when Easter eggs are bouncing around us---then there is mother’s day, memorial day, father’s day, July 4^th---you get the picture.

All right, so what is with traditions? Are traditions all created? Contrived? Just to commercialize every little emotion?

Probably.  But many traditions were created and then pursued mainly for one reason, to allow for a break in monotony of life while allowing for continuity, and a sense of anticipation every year.  We look forward to celebrated traditions; we come up with new ways of honoring them, and often have something special planned that forces us to conduct our everyday life--in a different way—for weeks.   Planning can call for shopping, cooking special meals, visiting special people.  And that can take a few weeks or more.

Traditions and celebrations also call for a large gathering, and so friends and families get together, acknowledge each other with phone calls and cards and gift exchanges, or sometimes special gestures, like visiting a grave, lighting a candle.  Celebrations are also a time when many can feel a sense of abundance as well as a sense of aloneness, if they do not feel part of a large group—a tribe. 

Regardless, these yearly celebrations, the ones that are celebrated all over the country, become important to us.  So, when you do not belong to the majority it can create a time of ‘identity crisis’ for many.  Unless you are a crazy one like me, who brings out Christmas lights around the time of festival of lights (Indian festival of Deepwali or Diwali)—which often arrives at least six weeks before Christmas, and does not take the lights down until a few days after new year celebration.

So, the yearly, nation wide celebrations are significant because they raise the country’s vibration to another level, even those who do not belong to that tradition can feel the joy.  Commercial or not –these reminders in the store windows, in our email boxes and even Google’s look, get us in the mood.  We can resist it, we can question it, but we cannot overlook that there is something magical about having one large festival in our hearts.  It is felt collectively, all over the country if not many countries.  I knew I had a completely different experience of 'Diwali' when I lived in Fiji.  It is this collective energy that gets us into the ‘spirit’ of the season. 

There are a few entries on this blog under Swedish Traditions that are devoted to specifically to Swedish cultural heritage.  These traditions, though very specific to the land, are also either a bit religious or seasonal –which share the concepts and ideas from many other holidays and celebrations around the world.  The focus on these entries is on learning a bit more about Sweden and than just placing that in the collective ‘celebratory spirit of our planet’. 

Stay tuned, I plan on focussing a little more on Scandinavian traditions in general 

Tatako and Ishiguro

Again first published on December 26, 2017--Here it is again, these two posts should go hand in hand, Ishiguro and Tatako, will always remind me of two different sides of Japan, the Spiritual (meditative) and the stoic!

None of these pictures have any connection to the story here. They are just being used so that I have some happy and some not-depressing (neutral) pictures to this strange story of identity crisis and home-sickness. Most of these pictures were taken in 2009, first visit to Japan. 

Train to Kamakura, 2009

Buddha at Kamakura, Japan, 2009

Young women in Kimono

For my research and data collection, during my Phd, I had returned to the city I had lived in, only two years before.  Washington DC.

At the library of congress where the research process itself was something to marvel, I remember staring in awe as microfiche that I requested was brought up by a cable.  The process was that --you fill out a form --usually based on research from Lexus-Nexus, the data base for news articles, and then send it through a tube.  Upon arrival in the basement, some person/staff would locate the document you asked for and send it through a lift, a cable.  Actually the entire process is blurry now, but I do remember being fascinated by it.

So, in the middle of that hectic, energy consuming work, I would take a break and just look out the window, wondering about things that bothered me then and have continued since then.

Who I was, what was I doing, why was I doing this research, what would it accomplish, did I really  care about the topic and issues or was it a way to finish something I had started, just to show perseverance but I truly was not interested in anything.

I had a semi-science background but I had acknowledged that I was a story teller, I thought in images and visuals, my mind kept dropping me characters and sentences and dialogues and words ---that came with their own personality and told me that I was to be their caretaker and gardener.  That I was to place them in the right place and in right order.

While I wrote for as long as I can remember (I wrote a short play when I was eight, and then directed it... will write about it later)---I started writing on a regular basis in my teens, when I also started keeping a daily journal.  From then till mid-twenties, I wrote a page or two --sometimes more every day.  Today I have a whole shelf filled of many hand written journals, in many shapes and colours.  The most common ones are the 'mead' notebooks from the US.  

With my move to the US, handwriting shifted to word-processing.  I started putting down things onto a computer.  From there, though I could write and store much, but I also became fragmented.  Thanks to this blog, I put together some memories and put them out, for the sake to having them in one place.

But the fragmentation which started with regular and increasing use of computers, combined with world-travel and possibly an identity loss, often makes me feel numb.

As strange as it sounds, numbness, has its own unique pain.

And so, this story of a Japanese woman I met years ago at the library of Congress and the recent talk by Ishiguro made me look nostalgically on a time, that was utterly painful, in real 'pain' sense of the word.

I actually felt the pain, tears would flow down at the drop of a hat, I would often write in my journal 'my heart was dangling over my abdomen'.  A way of explaining a 'drowning' feeling.

It was during that time, when I had to be in DC for research that I happened to sit next to Tatako.  I remember her name. Very clearly. I had thought of writing to her for the longest time. We had exchanged addresses and emails.  But I never did write.  

She was a middle aged Japanese woman married to an American man.  Loneliness and isolation emanated from her aura.  Shrunken even more than her slight frame.  It would be more appropriate to say, 'loneliness and isolation was where her aura receded', for there was nothing that 'emanated.'  That feeling was so strong, that one felt sucked into that vortex.

Since, I was myself in that space, somewhat, I was not in any danger in being around her.

But, just being around her made me realize what had become a modern state for many of us.  

Displaced, dislocated, and disoriented.

We did not know who we were, and simply stuck in inertia of not being able to do anything, even though time and things around us were in constant motion.  And those like me were in perpetual motion, meaning a physical move from one place to another. 

Tatako had married an American and had no children.  When she sat next to me, we started talking to each other, as if in a trance, of the directionless-ness of our lives.  Maybe both of us missing a sense of familiarity of expressions and emotions!  We did not recognize ourselves in the way world and life represented itself around us. 

We dare not express, for the fear of being misunderstood and misrepresented by our out of place feelings.  

And we shut out the joys of a childhood that was rich and colorful, for none of that was reflected in our world.

I felt her pain, as she slowly talked about the silence at home. It reminded me of my landlady from when I lived in the city. She was from south America and had married a divorcee with a child, who did not want any more children, while she desperately desired children.  When I met her, she was taking a break from her husband and trying to sort herself out, trying to connect with her childhood friends and even sweethearts, to find a lost piece of herself. 

I took Tatako’s address but did not know what to say to her. A few months later, I moved to another state and became even more lost than before.  Her name is written in one of my old diaries, that I have been meaning to discard for a while.  I had torn the page that had her name and saved it, but thrown the diary away this past summer, so that I may clear some space.  May be now that I have immortalized her memories and feelings and non-existence in a foreign culture, I can get rid of that page.

But writing about Ishiguro and listening to him talk about a Japan that he wanted to 'capture before it faded away', made me realize how much I have wanted to do that. Capture my India.

I had a magical childhood. Yes, not without problems and issues, but magical childhood.  So much so that the problems remain in the background and manifest here and there in fear, but it is the memories of that beautiful childhood and the character of strength that learnt from those around me that has helped me live with the integrity that I have lived with.

When Ishiguro talked about memory, I thought about Tatako.  Would she be upset, if she had no memory of a ‘richer, fuller’ time in Japan?

Tatako, in her very simple English, had talked about the lack of movement--a stillness that had become stale-- in her life in the US.  Stillness instead of deepening, had started a stench of fear.  She looked calm from the outside but was unquiet on the inside.  But it was the stoicism of Japan that allowed her to function as a normal human being, or at least no more bruised than we all are. (the blue part has been added this time, upon reflection on it). 

At the time, I was also reading ‘The road less travelled.’  And what I clearly remember from that book is this one incident, where the author says that the ‘Japanese brides that accompanied US soldiers after WWII back to the US had great marriage for several years and even decades.  But as they started to learn better English and could express themselves, the marriages started to break. Because now they had expression and could express, their discontent or disagreement.’

Would being inarticulate then be a blessing?  Not being able to name a feeling.  Just name it dullness for a while and hope for it to move and shift?

Something, I hope to consider more and think about…..as I continue on this journey to write and share.

Ishiguro: The Nobel Man

First Published on December 24, 2017---here it is again, as we are just done with awarding the NOBEL PRIZE. I am still amazed that I live in this country, that awards one of the most prestigious awards of our planet!!

Kazuo Ishiguro:  Giving his Nobel Prize Speech

I took this picture with my phone. Please notice the (click to enlarge) the fine bubbles rising up in the glass. It was those bubbles that had any movement in this shot at the moment I took it, and so, a silent moment with only the bubbles talking and climbing up, captured. 

What? It was a Japanese who wrote the novel that this movie is based on?  I had said in surprise after watching 'The Remains of the Day.' 

Still have not read the book, but the movie made such an impact.  Three scenes that I remember poignantly are, the aged butler serving his masters with such precision that he dare not remove a drop of sweat from his nose, and another one, where the butler assures the character played by Emma Thompson, after she states that she is afraid of leaving the manor because she sees only loneliness out in the world, 'We care for you very much.'  It was poignant because he is not the man to express emotions, and even in this case, while he should have jumped and hugged her, he just assures her, as if a board member telling a staff member, 'we care' but all the staff hears is 'we care, because we need you.'.  While in that scene both the Butler and the woman know that there is a deep connection, neither is allowed, due to the rigid times, environment and culture that they are a part of, to express freely.

 The last one is the last scene of the movie, almost wordless, where finally the butler shows some light through his cracked shell that he wears all the time.  Through his eyes a and concerns the eyes drip, almost without his permission, he shows 'some emotion' at seeing the woman he has loved for a while, but never has felt that he has the right to love.

A Japanese wrote that book. Yeah, but this one is no ordinary Japanese, he grew up in England. But still.  That is what writers do. They slip into situations, imagine and allow us to feel what others feel. And make us a bit more human. 

I have never read his work and wish to now, but that movie, that I saw more than two decades ago, is still fresh in my mind.

So when it was announced that he got a Nobel prize, my two responses were, Happy for him, and I must read his books.

Nobel Prize Committee announcing Ishiguro's win!

Nobel price winners 2019 

In June of 2016 I was in Japan the second time and decided to read a Japanese author, as I travelled through a country that I admire.  I chose Murakami.  Norwegian Woods!  It was much publicised, the movie came out a few years ago, and I heard that Murakami waited a while before giving rights for the movie.

From the get go, I had a sinking feeling when reading that book.  It was about mental health, and yet, there was very little humanity that I felt in the characters.  They were self-absorbed, possibly due to mental illness, but even the sane ones were.  Parents of the children who had mental illness were far in the background. There was in my opinion, much weirdness in the stories of these people.  All through that trip, while I did get involved in the book and wanted to know what happened to the characters, I also felt a sense of gloom.  Even though I was in a country that understood very well the intersection of humanity and divinity.  While people laugh and put down Japan and Japanese values as too rigid and ignoring the self, I think what they do not realize is that---all of that is Japan's way of making human life as close to perfection as possible. Yes, people break, but things like honor, commitment and valour, that make the world worthy to live in and fight for, are definitely something to live upto.  And then there is a value of balance.

That balance and self-restriction or discipline was missing in Murakami's book.  I kept thinking of Ishiguro and saying to myself that I have to read him to balance this.

A friend said, that Murakami was just responding to the Japanese repression. I disagree.  Murakami is very clear about western influences on his writing. And I do not consider Japanese culture as 'repression' as the outsiders talk about it.  It is one of self-respect, and grit.  Dying was nobler than living in shame.  

There is a saying we have in hindi that comes from RamCharitramanas (Ramayana as it is called colloquially)--प्राण जाये पर वचन न जाई--'Praan Jayi Par Vachan Na Jayi' --I will die before I go back on my word!  As I tell my students, giving word was like a certificate of honesty.  Like shaking hands in the west.  Long before we created documents and signature as proof. 

And writers bring that character to life.  I had so enjoyed Remains of the Day.  The movie and a few scenes had stayed with me for a long time. 

Pico Iyer, a noted travel writer, who has lived-in Japan for many years had this to say about the choice of Nobel Committee (click to enlarge). 

So, when I was working in my office late that day, trying to finish some grading, and a link got forwarded to me about Ishiguro's speech, I logged on.  As I continued to grade, I kept stopping to listen to him.  And then in the middle of it all, I realized that I had to record this for myself.  So, I recorded it on my phone.  I have listened to it many times since.  Even though it was recorded mid-way and has many of whisperings as I make notes on the papers that I am grading, rustling of the sheets as I am assembling my work.

The recording feels like I have woven Ishiguro's voice with my own life and poetry.  

I would like to provide that link at some point, but for now, I will provide the link to the entire speech at Nobel, so you all can listen. And here is the Nobel lecture that I am talking about.   I am just in awe of the fact that I am in the country that awards these prizes and that I can actually understand some of Swedish that they speak.  Grateful!!

PS:  This is 300th post in eight years since the blog was started. I wanted to mark it!!  This blog despite my emotional ups and downs has been maintained at 15-30  minute marks of writing.  Like teaching, it remains my salvation.  There must be almost two books in here.

PS: Edit, update: There are close to 368 posts on the blog.  As always have about 120 drafts, --and I hope to work on at least some of them this year!!

Which makes me think again of what people have told me for the last two and a half decade, (and recently a very dear friend/student told me....that I should write.  If any of what I write touches your heart and makes you think, I am grateful to Ma Saraswati (Goddess of Knowledge and Speech)--who flows through me, does not let me rest until I write it all down. I bow to her and hope that she will guide me in my future projects.

Leave a note, if you wish, but I know you all are there.  A few loyal ones.

PS: I did not know where to place this but wanted to share regardless, so here is a related story, as I was editing this post, and this time added a few more words and perspectives (I use reposting as a way to edit and add and embellish what i have already written)--I tried to see how Google translate with translate this deep meaningful phrase like प्राण जाये पर वचन न जाई----I will die before I go back on my word!  --And guess what did google translate provide?  'Go die!!' ah, technology, technology, technology, remember technology is helpful, but the user has to use his/her own brain!! Technology has no brain of itself....shhhh...our little secret, don't let the computers hear.....

Hope to hear from you all!!