You can click HERE to receive my full library of yoga, meditation, and breathwork resources!

October 8th, 2024

Hatchobori, Hiroshima, Japan

Seas of international tourists, uniformed school children, and off-duty locals sorrowfully trudged through the triggering exhibits of Hiroshima’s atomic bomb museum, grimacing at grotesque photos of burn victims, mind-boggling maps of displaced communities, and stomach-churning animations depicting the exact moment American forces dropped onto innocent Japanese citizens the worst weapon of mass destruction ever deployed.  I was among the visitors.  Nobody in the museum spoke.  Nobody even let their footsteps be heard.  Our mourning required fully morose respect.  

I avoid horror movies, haunted houses, true-crime documentaries, and fear-mongering news broadcasts, but giving this museum my full attention felt necessary.  I feel called to grapple with such upsetting stories.  The smile I paint across my face cannot be an ignorant or ditzy one; no, I must grow strong enough to hold humanity’s grim atrocities in my heart and smile proudly in spite of them.  

Outside the museum, Hiroshima smiles back at me.  Tiny folded paper cranes, an optimistic symbol of anti-nuclear activism, season the streets with color.  A bold hearth in the city’s center has been burning continuously since that devastating day in nineteen-forty-five; it warms all who encounter it.  Ancient gardens, temples, and palaces have been honorably reconstructed, proudly preserving this port town’s rich history, not letting its gallant legacy be eclipsed by one moment of tragedy.  

Indeed, Hiroshima has become a global hub of the world peace movement.  Staying here has taught me a valuable lesson in transmutation of unwelcome energies.  The depth of any tragedy determines its inverse potential as an empowering metamorphosis, and we can do to our bodies and minds what Hiroshima has done to itself.  

October 9th, 2024

Itsukushima, Hiroshima Bay, Japan

I walked the three-hour descent from Mount Misen’s dizzying peak barefoot, thinking about how that choice, nowadays radical, was once our species’ only option.  What has footwear cost us?  The intermingling of microbiomes on skin and soil, the acupressure-reflexology therapy of stepping on uneven ground, and the exquisite gait of unsupported soles are medicines once commonplace, now endangered.  I relished the moisture of fertile mud between my toes, the crunch of dry leaves under my heels, and the massage of pebbles against my arches, but I actively had to reckon with intrusive thoughts attempting to persuade me that letting bare feet touch forest floor is unsafe, irresponsible.  I’ve learned through practice that inviting fearful thoughts is quite the same as inviting danger itself.  I trudged on.  

As enjoyable as the tactile plantar sensations were the reactions of hikers crossing my path.  Some sneered judgmentally.  Others smirked encouragingly.  I began to wonder why a symbol as simple as bare feet triggered such polarized expressions in my fellow climbers; I’d unintentionally incited provocation and appeasement alike!  After all, our minds are recursive by nature, trained to contextualize stimuli using information we’ve already internalized.  Stored emotional anecdotes define our understanding of new experiences.  Even though we were strangers, these hikers had encountered my essence before, whether in a movie or in the mirror.  After just a quick glance at my appearance, one hiker saw in me a rotten anarchist hippie while another saw an inspiring free-thinker.  

Though I faced varied opinions, I nevertheless smiled warmly at every trekker, without discrimination.   I looked past their programmed responses, into the unified consciousness inhabiting their bodies.  Seeing us all as limbs of the same spirit, I looked into each hiker’s eyes and silently asked, God, are you in there? 

October 12th, 2024

Fukuoka, Kyushu, Japan

As I stand beneath the half moon over Fukuoka, the city hums with a gentle rhythm, much like the pulse I felt earlier in the sauna I just emerged from. The river trickling beside me carries in its stream stories of my Japan escapade, a journey that began in the northern reaches of Hokkaido and has led me through the vibrant heart of Tokyo, the serene landscapes of Fujikawaguchiko, and the cultural tapestry of Kyoto. Each city, a chapter in my story, each moment, a brushstroke on the canvas of my travels.

Tonight, I find myself in a reflective mood, contemplating the path that has brought me here and the adventures that await in Okinawa, where I’ll be flying tomorrow. The anticipation of tropical breezes and the promise of fresh fruit—a rarity on the mainland—fills me with excitement. In Japan, fruit is a luxury, a reminder of nature's bounty that often feels just out of reach. Bananas and carrots have been my sustenance, as the most affordable produce items in all grocery stores, humble yet nourishing companions on this journey.

My culinary adventures have been a mix of convenience and discovery. The allure of convenience store snacks and grocery store salads—grated pickled carrots, radish salad, kimchi, seaweed salad—has been irresistible. Yet, today, a revelation struck me like a sudden gust of wind. As I scrutinized the ingredients of these seemingly innocent meals, I discovered a hidden world of inflammatory additives. It was a moment of disillusionment, a reminder that even in places we idealize, imperfections linger.

This realization brought a pang of disappointment, a feeling that resonated with my name, Etai, which in Japanese translates to "ouch." This translation often elicits a bright smile when I explain it to locals, a small connection in a land that sometimes feels vast and impersonal. But today, it was a symbol for the pain that comes with shattered illusions.

To counterbalance this feeling, I sought solace in action. Casting my absentee ballot for the U.S. presidential election became a symbolic gesture, a way to reclaim agency and connect with my roots. Navigating the intricacies of a Family Mart copy machine to print my ballot was an adventure in itself, a testament to the small victories that punctuate our lives. As I placed my sealed envelope in the international mailbox, I felt a sense of fulfillment, a connection to home that transcended distance. It was a reminder that even as I wander, I remain tethered to the world I left behind.

Tomorrow, I will set foot on the shores of Okinawa, eager to embrace the island's vibrant culture and savor its tropical delights. I look forward to the conversations that await, the chance encounters that will enrich my journey. For in each interaction, I find a piece of myself reflected back, a reminder that we are all one in this dance of life.

As I bid farewell to Fukuoka, I carry with me a sense of gratitude for the lessons learned and the memories made. This journey has been a kaleidoscope of experiences, each thread woven with care and intention. And as I step into the unknown, I do so with an open heart, ready to embrace whatever comes next.

Love,

Etai