If I could take Sekinaisho with me in my heart wherever I go, I would have the strength to live anywhere and never run out of joy for life. It is not any one teacher or any one student, but somehow the building itself it seems. The big stained glass windows in the reading room, the baby grand piano at the base of the stairs, the openness of the place. I don't even think it's that. It is just a combination of all good things coming together. It has the power to reform people, I think. Anyone who comes from outside and spends time inside finds themself softer, happier, more prone to あいさつ and a smiling face.
I finally got to draw crows with Kana today, and she is amazing. I think she's about 10 years old and already incredibly talented. Not only could she draw several things well (quickly too) but I could see in her drawings that she already has a natural sense of pace and movement. I feel the stirrings of a comic artist in her. I want to help nurture that, if she happens to feel the same.
Today's lesson was to read through the all-English script of Snow White that the teacher wrote. I must learn their names! After I went through it all with everyone (they liked my evil queen laugh) the teacher had me record it so they could use it to practice for the play on the 21st. Small detail but. When I walked in the principal's office I could smell cigarette smoke, and after my weekend in Otaru feeling sick because of the smell and being quite stressed out, I started fanning my face a little with the script, not even thinking. I was up until 3am so my brain is on automatic. In any case I didn't think anything of it until I saw the principal go and turn on the fan in the room. The other teacher asked him why he did it and I saw in the reflection of the mirror he gestured to mimic my fanning (which I'd stopped- I was catching this exchange very subtly and pretended I didn't see it, lest I embarass someone).
I was moved by this gesture of consideration and kindness. After coming from sitting trapped in a room with three heavy smokers and no thought at all despite my coughing and attempted subtle signs of discomfort (not to mention sitting in a desk caddy corner to the "smoking room" at the office every day), this attention to my feelings took me aback. I wish I had not fanned, that I had not caused the principal that moment of guilt, because it meant the world to me that he picked up on that signal and reacted for my benefit. I love that aspect of Japanese culture- attempting to make things better for others without them realizing. Sometimes the attention to detail is too neurotic (teachers use rulers to draw straight lines on the board, if an anwer is not worded JUST the right way it needs to be corrected, etc), but compared to the common American way of doing things (not paying a thing any mind until it is brought to one's attention, and then desiring feedback for dealing with it) it suits me better.
Like leaving a gift on someone's desk while they're away. The American mentality would say this robs both parties of being able to express their feelings about the present, diminishing it. In Japan, however, such an act is a way of taking attention away from the gesture of giving the gift, leaving behind any mask one might have to wear to graciously recieve or give it, and instead leaves only the fact that the kind act or gift existed. In a way I can savor this more and carry it with me longer when it is something that goes unaddressed. When the self-glorification is removed from the equation, to me, it becomes sublime.
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