Sylvia's Journal

On Monday I visited the shoulder doctor for the 3 months checkup. I had planned to ignore the summons as I find these check-up visits not a good use of time or money, but this time I went. While in Kampala my ‘good’ rotator cuff slipped a little out of its socket and left me with no strength at all in my right arm. This was a problem because I am not supposed to carry anything heavier than a coffee cup with my left arm. Luckily I was travelling with a colleague who carried the stuff I could no longer carry.

Eventually things got better. The rotator cuff must have slipped back in place and slowly my strength, what little I have in my right arm, returned. I started to worry about having to have yet another operation. My physical therapist had a name for what happen, a sub lux, and taught me how to push the rotator cuff back. The doctor told me there was a solution to this problem (in all likelihood created by the overuse of my right arm while the left is recovering); it is a reverse shoulder replacement. I am hoping that this will never be necessary, what with the left arm starting strength training in a few weeks. I am kind of tired of surgeries and the long recovery process of healing tendons and bones.

In the meantime I touched down for two days at work where things are a little bit in limbo because we are changing our organizational structure. I presume that by the time I come back from my next trip, later this month, the dust will have settled a bit more.

During our long drive home yesterday from DC we talked about the weeks I was busy, what I had learned and facilitation assignments ahead. One Big Thing I learned (the same question I asked the conference participants during the wrap up session on Friday) has something to do with balance and imbalance.

In the middle of last week there was a moment where I had completely lost my balance. I was able to look back at that moment and my reaction to the event and realized that imbalance is actually a good thing, even though it may not feel that way at the moment. It was as if I had fallen into a hedge and came out the other end. Behind the edge, in a Secret Garden sort of way, was a whole new field full of interesting vistas promising things I had not thought about before and raising new questions I had not pondered before.

We tend to look for balance in our lives, convinced that balance is a good thing; thousands of books have been written about it. But maybe balance is boring. Falling and getting up, stumbling over things may seem a bad way to move, but if I would be given a choice now, I think I’d continue with the stumbling. All these moments of imbalance in my past, recent and long ago, have made life so much more interesting and have contributed so much to my learning, that I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

I have been back for more than a week. It was a rather frantic week with long days and early rises so that I could relax this week which is a vacation week.  So far I have managed to ignore emails for one whole day, Monday!

In the meantime Faro turned 3, last Saturday, a joyous day spent in the Nonotuck park in Easthampton amidst a bunch of 0-3 years old, family and friends and an abundance of food. Faro, who has not been exposed much to sugar discovered cupcakes, and in particular frosting. We are indulgent with birthday kids and so he was able to lick the frosting off at least a few cupcakes before we drew a line.

Sunday we worked in the garden, a good workout after a mostly sedentary life of months, no years. The asparagus are popping up, the leeks and onions are thriving in this wet spring, the potatoes foliage is looking healthy, the spinach not quite discovered by the rabbits and the garlic looks vigorous. The more delicate plants were a little perturbed by all that rain, which followed me from Holland back to the US.

Axel and Tessa returned from their mission to Palm Springs experiencing everything that is wrong with air travel, spending about 24 hours to get back home. Tessa negotiated that half the miles used for the trip got re-deposited, plus some extras, as the delays messed up her work week that is now even more frantic. She too has to clear her desk before she heads out with me to Holland for a more fun occasion, the wedding party of my youngest brother where she has a chance to re-connect with her uncles, aunts, nieces and nephews. She negotiated with me about Steve coming along (he is). She should have been a lawyer!

My big sister Ankie arrived with her husband yesterday afternoon. We celebrated their arrival with Lobster and corn on the cob, strawberries and cream. Except for the weather it is summer!

It’s hard to stop the memory machine, my brain, thinking, sometimes even obsessing, about the events of the last few days. It has been hard to fall asleep, despite having skipped a few nights; and then I wake up late, hours past my usual wake up time at sunrise.

I spent 24+ hours in Amsterdam, walking, talking with my friend A. who helped me through the difficult breakup with Peter time 37 years ago. We revisited every corner of our memory in the hope of being able to put all that to bed, including how our relationship had evolved over these three-plus decades.

The weather was nasty on Friday and I felt sorry for the tourists in the canal boats who couldn’t see much through the window panes with the rains streaking against them. If they had only one day for Amsterdam they’d had bad luck.

Saturday was better. We visited the superbly renovated Hermitage museum. An exhibit of Hollanders van de Gouden Eeuw (The Dutch in the Golden Century) revealed how much the current approach to governance has its roots in how wealthy Dutch Burghers organized themselves to govern the country. A basic tenet was that poverty and hunger were bad for commerce because such conditions would only foment dissatisfaction and revolt; as a result a system of caring for the ‘unfortunate’ was put in place by the wealthy burgers as both a Christian obligation and a way to keep the population if not happy, then at least temporarily satisfied and beholden to their benefactors. Over the years this system of paternalistic caring has been handed over to the state, now more as a human right than a gesture of Christian compassion.

When we re-emerged from the museum the sun was out and things looked up. Amsterdam is a great place to walk around and watch people when the sun is out. We had a nice lunch in a tiny place, a simple ‘broodje met oude kaas’ (a roll with old Dutch cheese) and a glass of karnemelk (buttermilk) which is about as good a lunch as one can get.

Back at A’s house we sorted out my return trip by bus to Aalsmeer from where I will return to Schiphol tomorrow.

On Tuesday night Axel and I attended the annual Gala dinner of the Boston-Japan Society. The key note speaker was the US ambassador to Japan, Caroline Kennedy. I felt I was in the presence of history. This is exactly what she invoked with stories of her dad and Japan and the war. This August will be the 70^th anniversary of the dropping of the bomb. The symbolism of seeing the flags of Japan and the US on a giant screen, backdrop to the sounds of the national hymns of these two nations that were once bitter enemies, didn’t escape anyone. The evening was full of thank you’s and expressions of friendship and collaboration; a true love fest indeed.

The gala is also the occasion of recognizing talent which turned out to be mostly female. The lineup of award recipients consisted, without exception, of people who tend to be marginalized: women and people with disabilities. There was the gifted young pianist (blind) who treated us to some exquisite pieces; the others were all women who had made their mark in Japan and beyond in the areas of finance & economics, teaching & writing, and fashion.

We are not members of this society. Why would we? I have been to Japan a few times, speak just about 3 words of Japanese, and neither one of us can claim any Japanese heritage. Axel’s father didn’t even fight the Japanese; he was busy with the Italians in the Mediterranean. As a result we felt a bit out of place between the women in their elegant kimonos, the flock of giggling skinny and tiny young women, the distinguished looking gentlemen of a certain age (Japanese and American) and the many mixed couples, mostly US men with their Japanese brides.  From the amounts written on the silent auction items it was clear that we were in the company of influence and money (not unlike the sensation I got on the few occasions we attended events organized by the Dutch community in Boston).

Our invite came through one of those mixed US/Japanese couples whose philanthropic foundation has a close relationship with MSH. Our benefactress wasn’t able to come herself. She was busy in Japan selecting the winners from a large pool of applicants for a few highly competitive fellowships. The purpose of these fellowships is to expand the pool of professional mid-career Japanese women who are investing their talents in bringing about social change in Japan. They spend a month in and around Boston learning the ropes of how to run non-profits, an institution that’s not as well developed in Japan.

Last year we were invited to host four fellows for a day and a half at MSH. With a few colleagues (all female as it happened) we created a program that received rave reviews from the fellows. This led to a request for a repeat performance this September, now for 3 days. And that is how we got to the gala.