Archive for March, 2018

27
Mar
18

How to lure the goddess into the light when she is the light

Japanese-Sun-goddess-Amaterasu

Wild Wild Country came out on Netflix, and I’ve been reading the trains of Tokyo with Osho’s book Love, Freedom and Aloneness instead of use my smart phone during the sometimes gruelling commutes between clients.  My kettai’s been acting up and not holding a charge so the switch to paper back seemed like the wisest move to save my SUMAHO time to only the most essential of uses.  I spend at least ten hours on the trains of Tokyo going from school to client to home between the hours of 7:30am in the crushing rush hour of Japan where even getting out your phone to read is impossible.  For fifteen minutes while you are smashed against twenty other Tokyo-ites all you can do is sometimes look at the ceiling of the train car, you can breathe in and out, but most times you can’t even do that as the weight of the person in front and back of you is preventing proper respiration.  If you are short like me, sometimes your view of the ceiling is obstructed and you are just looking straight into someone’s piece of clothing, examining it close up for 15 or so minutes. Finally Shibuya station and about 50 people pour out of the doors of the train car that I have become one with.   Rapid pouring out onto the platform and into two or four orderly lines: two up the escalator and two more thicker but less organized lines up the stair cases. I don’t HATE anything usually, but I definitely definitely HATE Tokyo train rush hour. In WWCountry, I’m learning things about America that I didn’t know before.  I had no idea of this part of Oregon’s history. I hadn’t even heard of Osho before I started to explore Tantra five years ago. Dr. Seuss said,”Why fit in, when you’re born to stand out?” and I have always always been a unique person since my childhood born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area.  Seuss motto supports weirdos like me, American culture values individualism to a degree, but not as much as most people might think, as I never really felt like I was “normal” or “average” as an American either.  In the Osho Ashram in Oregon, all the members (Rajneeshees) wore variations of orange and pink. It looks a lot like what you are given to wear when you enter a Korean spa, something like medical scrubs, unisex, comfortable and not sexy.  I watch this with fascination as I know already that if any religion or spiritual center told me that I had to wear a certain outfit, I’d be out the door after that meeting never to return. It is very interesting being a Tantrika in Japan watching this documentary and trying to read the Japanese subtitles as a form of studying.  To my pleasant surprise, I am actually keeping up at the speed of the subtitles and learning how to say phrases that I need in my life in Japan to describe my spiritual experience. The Japanese motto regarding standing out is in a proverb that everyone knows too well “ 出る杭は打たれる (deru kui wa utareru: the nail that sticks out gets pounded down).  I have felt sooo pounded down in the last six months working and hustling in cold and busy Tokyo. I have been cursed to repeat my high school feelings of not or never being able to fit in or not or never being able to be appreciated for who I am, and feeling attractive and full of self love but somehow not being attractive to anyone around me, or anyone that I would regard as worth my time.  The entire existence of Japan was born from the sun goddess Amaterasu, the first Emperor considered a grandson of the descendant of this goddess. Legend has it that Amaterasu hid in a cave, disgusted with her partner’s bickering, thus causing a constant darkness to fall over the earth. The other gods had to lure her out with a mirror. Apologists for Japanese society swear to me that the goddess is still living in Japan but I find the presence of the divine light in the eyes of the people that walk the crowded streets next to me, that push their existence against me without acknowledgement of each other’s humanity nor of their divinity leads me to constantly depress into a cave…but recently with the bloom of pink cherry blossoms all over the, tunnels of feminine beauty adorn the trees and skies above me and I am, for now, revived and charged with ecosexual energy in Japan.  For once in a long while, I see people exuding happiness everywhere I look, in awe of something bigger than their salaries.  There is a reason that Japan is called “sexless” by the media and that the population is signaling a dire need in a change of the way things have been done since World War Two.  It is time to change again for the sake of the existence of the goddess.  Although many Japanese think that I am merely being critical of Japan without the same realization of the shortcomings of America, the same is going on with the goddess in the U.S and quite possibly all over the world.  The time has come for changes to finally be made everywhere, a country and society that does not realize the power of the sun and the power of the goddess will inevitably perish in darkness.  28618849_10213703895024873_1084500047103387336_o

12
Mar
18

YOU. AINT. SHIT.

Japan is kicking my ass and I need to get programmed to fight the funk like a samurai warrior.  I’ve been listening to all my youtube coaching gurus so that I can get my mind in the right state to conquer like I did once before.  I had an interview today and the director asked me “How do you like Japan?” “It’s difficult.” I said. I’m not going to lie and be a pretend to be content IMG_5527Japanese.  I’m not Japanese. Fuck the bullshit. I’ll never be Japanese. They’ve told me this over and over again in so many ways. You have to actually check a box that says “non-Japanese” when you want to participate in things.  They recruit you with the words “non Japanese” and I know what they mean when they ask.  I’m half Japanese, but I’m not real Japanese.  They say it’s about your passport, but there are white people with Japanese passports and they’re not real Japanese either.  They say it’s about your bloodline, but my mom is Japanese and that’s not good enough either.   It’s about how you look and how you act.  And mostly its about who is looking.  Always about who is looking and what they think.   What a wicked curse that all my life I wanted to be more Japanese. All my life, I dreamed of living in Japan and now I live in Japan and…it feels like I enlisted in the military and went back to high school and graduate school all over again emotionally.  Everything that I thought I was is being torn down and stripped away and I am being tested yet again. Just like the military, you are conditioned to believe YOU. AIN’T. SHIT.  No one is special here.  There is no goddess. You are part of the whole.  The whole is #1, if you choose to believe it.   I’m interviewing this week because the job that I had which paid the base of my rent laid me off.  This job that put me through hell and took me through the same agony as when I was a first year teacher in South Central crying over lesson plans closed its program on the campuses that I worked at.  But I am grateful actually. I learned a new system of teaching kids in Japan and its worth more than my Master’s Degree. I went from hopeless and frustrated about how to implement this system with no training to being able to plan 4 classes on my commute on the train with my smart phone while standing up.  The change from hopeless to mastery happened much faster than my first year of teaching. I did it without adequate mentorship and I did it without medical marijuana everyday like I did first year teaching. Japan is so much like high school for me as well. I didn’t thrive in high school, I graduated as soon as I could.  I knew by year 3 that it wasn’t working for me, so I worked to figure out the requirements to get out earlier than my senior year. Japan, like high school is a rigid social system that doesn’t hold space for not fitting in the mold. Even if you don’t fit the mold, you have to fit the mold of people who don’t fit the mold.  They sit together in the cafeteria or smoke pot together in the parking lot. Japan, like high school doesn’t know what to do with someone like me, so it ignores me.  I walk through the Shibuya crowds unnoticed.  I talk to no one for hours unless I am teaching them, I go out to clubs and the only time I have a laugh with a friendly person is when I am texting someone from the U.S on Facebook.  If a stranger talks to me, it is to ask me if I am waiting for the bathroom. This was a lot like high school for me. I was a loner. I went home after I played volleyball, I sang in front of the school, i did well academically, I wore cute clothes but I didn’t have many real friends.  Never had a high school boyfriend. Guys made out with me for fun but they never dated me. I have never been to a high school reunion because I don’t care about any of those people and vice versa. I”m not even remotely curious about people from this period of my life. It feels like this one episode I saw of The Twilight Zone where the outcast was ignored because he had some V on his forehead.  What I have grown to believe were universal human needs are not the same in Japan. Apparently they do not need to communicate like I do, they don’t need to touch, they don’t need weed or small talk with strangers. I’m happy when I am teaching English because that’s when it is okay to be me a little bit. I have a humorous presentation in English. People chat and laugh with me, it feels..”normal” for  a few hours. But after that (bell rings) the V goes back on my forehead and I am back into the masses. The drudge of the black suited workers that line up on the escalator, wait for the bus, silent on the train with masks over their face, never looking at each other. Never even showing empathy with their eyes that we are smashed against each other and that my asthmatic lungs are getting crushed just to get to work.  Its humbling me for sure, but I fear that it is killing my soul. I fear that it is taking everything that was once sacred and beautiful out of me and turning it into their darkness. I have a great smile. It is bright and energetic and I love using it. But, in Tokyo I don’t get to smile so much. And if I do, it’s is ignored or instructed to be put away.

“I think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it’s not the answer.”  Jim Carrey.

03
Mar
18

thegoddess is dead in Japan

When I say thegoddess is dead in Japan, I don’t mean that Japanese are not spiritual people.  Many of them are, many of them aren’t, just like many countries.  There is definitely a pervasive form of spirituality that Japan has in its landscape that Christian influenced countries do not have.  When I say thegoddess is dead, I mean the idea of a divine form embodying a human one, is non existent.  Women have no pull and no power here.  The mother cannot ask for recognition for bearing and raising kids anymore than the salary man can ask for recognition for supporting the family.  This is what you are supposed to do.  Don’t you dare ask for credit for what you are supposed to do.  If a woman dressed unique, sexy or something beautiful, not a single man will turn his head.  They will look from the reflection of the glass  in their phones or out of the corner of their eyes, but they will never say a thing. Silence is a cultural norm here, even when 6 people standing on a train almost fall on top of each other.  (This really happened the other day and me out of 6 was the only person who uttered any sounds)  One of my friends called Japanese men “soft” but I think “soft” sounds fluffy and nice and cute, like a cloud.  The majority of Japanese men that I see are spineless and oblivious, like earthworms.  Earthworms are not shy they’re spineless.  and they don’t like light either.  Shy is not the word for them.  So suspend me to the ceiling and spin me around a few times, parade me like rotisserie flesh for the horny eyes of the men in the room.  They are looking now but I don’t care.  All I wanted was for someone to buy me a drink, hold open a door, offer to carry a bag, compliment my outfit or my smile…

YOU be the radiant light and those that can see it will be attracted to it!!  It doesn’t work here in Japan.   Don’t give me your fucking bumper sticker quotes that apply to your life in a non Asian or non Muslim or some other country without similar restrictions.  Save your privilege for your Instagram quotes.   

I want to hear you tell me to “just love myself” as much as I want to hear some blissed out foolio tourist high on Enjoy Japan talk about his recent trip to Tokyo (Japan is sooo clean and organized!  I love it!)  randomly messaging me as some form of flirtation. Screenshot_2018-03-03-17-49-00 The only beings that are attracted to my light are moths.  Drunken moths are one step higher than earthworms as at least they take action even if it kills them.  After I was taken down from the suspension, I went to the bathroom.  I was met there by 2 Japanese men.  I decided to see what the 3 men at the bar could possibly do for me, so I asked one of the guys to get the German man who was speaking to me at the bar.  I hadn’t had sex with 3 guys before, and usually at random times my experimental daring gets the best of me, and since i was just suspended from the ceiling I was high on endorphins and adventure.  I am usually interested in exploring that I have never had before once, just for the sake of it.  It is the new thrill that I like, the sex just comes with it sometimes.  I called the German guy down to the sex room, not because I wanted anything more than a new experience in life.  And definitely after about 20 minutes of my vagina being sucked by an octopus and pussy smashed with inflatable toy hammers at an arcade silently by three guys,  I went back upstairs with a What the hell was that shit? feeling.  It was like blowing three mannequins in a department store elevator (sounds exciting?  Its actually not).  Shaking my head at the huuuuge gap of reality between the porn I masturbate to and the reality I have experienced.   After the two Japanese men ejaculated they disappeared without saying a word, leaving me and the German guy alone to speak in English.  Sex with him was terrible as well.  He wasn’t even aware his dick wasn’t inside of me most of the time and he was moaning to appease my need for “some sound” but I could tell it was fake because he was missing his target completely and oblivious to it.   It was not even my imagination, I really felt nothing from all three of them.  The whole event was one of the worst sexual experiences I’ve ever had inclusive of all of the prostitution I have ever done to date and that, is some seriously, bad sex.  I could never have bad sex as a sex worker as long as I got paid and it wasn’t an assault, because my job was to make money, orgasms were icing on the cake.  This recent night was the equivalent to donating my body to being poked by preteen virgins in a sex lab for free so i felt really unamused after it was over.  Disgusted with the Japanese guys who went quickly up to the bar without even a word and who did not even acknowledge me again at all after that.  I forced myself in their faces, “That was rude.” i said.  “No, no, that was our Ometenashi” the one guy that I actually was attracted to out of the 3 said to me.  Ometanashi my ass.  I said shaking my head.  ( You call that Japanese hospitality, do you?  I call it rude and fucking ridiculous).   This is the symbolic meaning of being tied and suspended in Kinbaku for me.  A performance piece is being written with my life experiences, right alongside this blog.  Butoh is another thing I got to experience living in Japan, like Kinbaku rope play, and the uneventful sexual experiment that followed, I had to come to Japan to have access.

The German guy stayed with me and talked with me, bought me a drink, walked me to the train station in the morning and was aching to continue our “adventure” but it was no longer an adventure but a sex tragedy of epic proportions that I’d soon forget quicker if he wasn’t actually trying to walk me to the train station and attempt to stay in touch.  But wasn’t this the chivalry you said you wanted goddess? He tried to hold my hand and I pulled it away.  You can’t move from terrible sex to holding hands in one hour.  I was not interested in dating him.  Take him on as long term coaching client, yes.  Date him, no.   If he reads this and his ego can handle it, then he’ll consider some serious sexual awareness lessons.  My boyfriends and lovers need to be of a certain sexual standard that my clients often are not.   I can be compassionate in the professional container.  Empathy and recovery from unbelievably terrible sex only comes after love and relationship are established and it can’t happen the other way around, even for a Tantrika because I am MOSTLY human.   thegoddess light was needed to love me, myself and I only and deeply to recover from that clown show (and yes, I DO LOVE MYSELF very very much, Thank you bumper stickers for the reminder).   I had gone in, in, inward and was not feeling namaste or like seeing the god in anyone but myself.  At that point, 5:30am Shinjuku train station cold and hungry, waiting for the first train of the day,  I just wanted to be in my bed alone.   I am thankful that the German guy wasn’t Japanese because then I can’t blame the whole incident entirely on Japanese dicks.  Regardless, it still gets chalked up as an interesting sex experience I could only have in Japan.  And still gets counted as the worst sex I’ve had in 41 years.  




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