Tanka

For all the restrictions, expectations, social rules, and accompanying stress in Japanese society, the people in this country never fail to touch my heart (and that phrase, in itself, is a sentimental wording I probably picked up in Japan). I used to believe I was a complete introvert, and that my peace and happiness derived from the inside of me. But one definition of an extrovert--one who gains energy and a sense of happiness from others (outside of me)--seems more appropriate for me in Japan. As I struggle with very difficult decisions or am just plain tired, I come to my school and little things happen that make me happy. It literally feels like something inside me warms and begins to melt.

A student mailed me a New Year's card, and when I sought her out in a crowded hall to say thank you, the look on her face raised my mood about 3 notches. Later, a teacher approached me with a thin book and said, "I heard you like haiku. I want to give this to you."

"This" was a collection of 100 tanka (like haiku but longer) written by Japanese students. The book was edited by professors at Toyo University, who had to choose the best 100 poems from 60,000 submissions. (No, there are no typos in that number.) The book was an effort to pass on Japan's traditional history of structured poetry, and also to acknowledge and contribute to (support? help? further?) globalization by translating each poem into English. The teacher's gesture and thoughtfulness brought me up another 5 notches. I can't wait to read this. But I had to stop after the first poem, because it resonated with me so well that I just couldn't move on to the second one, without letting this one linger:

I wonder
what my elder sister
who left home saying,
"I'll look for the meaning of life"
is doing now?

--Sachiko Matsuda