Good morning, Japan.

Land of interwoven ways, tradition and modernity, peace and bustle.  And poetic odes to ramen soup.

The last time I was in Japan, I visited Tokyo, Kyoto (I just realized those are anagrams and also a simple reversal of syllables – in English) and Hiroshima.  All urban, all large, and I recall wishing I could have stopped between the cities to see the countryside.  This time I did.  South of Tokyo, in the hills of Kamakura, ancient stairs lead to samurai hideouts and bamboo forests.  Northwest of Tokyo, the residents of Karuisawa Village are reviving the practice of growing food locally and thinking about small community.  Far up the east coast of Japan, communities continue the difficult work of recovering from the tsunami of March 2011, but are still warmly welcoming.  And far to the west of Tokyo the spas of Yugawara and monasteries of Gifu Prefecture instill a peaceful mindset.

Let’s start with Tokyo, though.  Time in rural Japan means more contrasted with its massive cityscape and buzz.

Most of anything in Tokyo starts with a subway ride, comfortably crowded.  Tokyo is a pedestrian city, much like New York, and not vehicle centric.  (I wonder what the ratio of square acreage is for vehicle streetscape and parking versus pedestrian sidewalks and buildings in various downtowns of the world…)  And towering above us all, is the grand, open, spacious architecture.

Of course, not all of Tokyo’s architecture is tall.  Some of it is very small and short.

And some things in Tokyo bring quiet to mind…

In Kamakura, ancient traditions are the main attraction:  silent samurai temples with dragons guarding bell towers and ancient stones, turtles soaking up sun and practicing Tokyo-style living, bamboo forests that make those kung fu floating-through-bamboo-forest scenes in movies more believable.  I’ve seen bamboo used for construction scaffolding in China (on skyscrapers, no less), but none of it was this big.

And speaking of traditions, I was introduced to a new one.  At a 7-Eleven in North America, you’d be hard pressed to create a healthy, real meal but in Japan most convenience stores have shelves full of rice pockets.  In traditional Japanese fashion, they are wrapped perfectly so with three easy pulls your dry nori joins the moist rice filled with something tasty.  I couldn’t tell you what all those tasty things were, but rice pockets became a regular treat at any hour of the day or night.

I was in Japan with iLEAP as a photographer for a reunion of four SIFJ (Social Innovation Forum Japan) groups and a tour with two cinematographers (Eric Becker and Gabriel Bienczycki) and Izumi (iLEAP's Associate Director) to film three SIFJ graduates working to revitalize Japan’s tsunami-damaged social fabric.  It’s an experience that many months later I still don’t have the right words for, and so all I’ll say here is that it was joyful, bewildering, and humanizing.

Of course we had to take pictures, but we weren’t the only ones.  You can see a lot, and very little, at 300 kilometers per hour (185 mph).  I had to wait until we were on a slower train (like one from Inshinomaki, home of the Cartoon Museum) to capture the extent of Digerati and also rice fields outside the train that were wedged into every corner, pocket, and valley.

In Yugawara, we were served abalone in the shell, and told when the fire underneath the grate goes out, it is ready to eat.  Okay.  Until we realized that the abalone was still alive, and being cooked slowly as it writhed in it's shell.  It was an uncomfortable challenge to enjoy that.  Many thoughts about what being part of a food chain is all about and how to mercifully participate…

This was a perfect finale to ease the stuttering brain back into a gentle gear after the previous week.  Notice, but do not notice.  Hear, but do not hear.  Feel inwards falling and rising.  Breathe.  And don’t forget to watch fireflies and walk to mountain temples and find odd things in the forest.  Our monk (Ittetsu Nemoto) took us to the monastery he trained at, and we walked the stairs that every initiate walks three times before they are accepted through the gate and into the Zen fold.  Echoes of India for me, when I stayed at a Buddhist monastery in Lingshed village.

Thank you, Japan, for such a vibrant dose of being human.

In exchange for sleeping in a monastery, I did have the pleasure of staying in a real honest-to-goodness capsule hotel (bunk beds for grownups?).  I wandered Tokyo, sliding between floating peace and pulsing energy, being one of the crowd, and yet not of the crowd.  Thankfully, my time in Japan taught me that you can experience the world as whomever you are, knowing that the blurred, tumultuous pace of humanity will not slow down.

Just bring peace with you on the inside.