My black mood shattered this morning.

Yesterday, when I woke up, I had a headache that throbbed regardless of Advil or bed rest or cups of tea. I shut the curtains. First I cancelled my private lesson, then when the headache still hadn't dissipated by 3pm, I cancelled my evening shift at Nova. (For that I will pay the penalty of one day's pay; there are no sick days at Nova allowed, especially when called in after the 11am deadline. And I mean pay-- they won't just cut off a day's salary. I owe it to them.) I lay on my back on the heated floor pad, hiding under the kotatsu table like a child, covering my eyes and my ears. My hurt knee bothered me more by its existence than by any actual pain. Ever since I came to Tokushima, to Shikoku island, I have been harbouring a half-secret dream to attempt the 88 Temple Pilgrimage around the island. It's one of the main reasons I requested Shikoku as my first choice for placement when I became a Nova hack. And now... Well, the Doc said to use my knee as little as possible. Walking 1000 miles for three months doesn't exactly fit in with his recommendations. (See this web page for more info: http://travel-write.com/travel_articles/asia/shikoku_88_temple_pilgrimage/index.htm )

I phoned mom this morning after a long loll in bed with a cup of tea and a mildly soppy Christmas romance novel she'd sent in her latest care package. (I only read these things once a year, I swear!) I wanted a sounding board. Was I doing all right here? She assured me that I was all right, that everyone is very proud of me, etc, etc, everything I needed to hear and more. And, apparently, all Capricorns (her, me, my Auntie Joy and her daughter Cathy, my Auntie Flo) are right out of whack. Our planets are doing the funky chicken or something and all of us feel wonky or dissatisfied, and like our work is getting us nowhere. What do you say fellow goat-girls? True or not true? Are you feeling like greasy-grimy-gopher-guts too? Anyway, it felt good to not feel alone in my fog.

Full appreciation of my life hit me like a wall of roses. I have finally got enough rest. The memories of my Kyoto vacation are starting to percolate now that I've recovered from the assault of the hectic adventure. I finally have an idea about what to do for my family for Christmas (albeit, the gifts will be late). I can choose to be happy. I am relatively healthy. My knee hurts, but I talked with Dad-- he had had a similar knee problem a few years ago, up to the point where doctors were going to operate. He started taking sharks cartilage capsules, and hasn't had a problem since; lucky me! The only thing I recognize in the drug store are the bottles with the pictures of sharks on them! And though the thrilling newness of being in this country may have passed away, it doesn't mean that my learning is complete. It doesn't mean that I'm finished discovering.

Here's one of my recent adventures to prove it:

When we got to Nara, I was surprised to see the deer immediately, and was also surprised by their size. I thought they'd be smaller, more delicate. But they were hefty like large goats, and just as persistent, immediately hounding anybody who stepped towards a deer-snack vendor. Thankfully, most of the males had had their antlers lopped off. I say thankfully because you have to remember that it is autumn in Nara-- these animals are in the full swing of rutting season. The bucks strutted sideways through the busy intersections with arched necks, flashing the whites of their eyes and waggling their genitalia at their opposition. Taxis drove carefully around them, as the deer paid no heed. Ume and her mom and I walked on past them, determined to get to the Daibutsu. The deer swarmed all around. They perused the souvenir displays along the path. They napped on the lawns. They followed terrified children who threw the deer-cookies at the animals rather than risk getting close. As we came up the last stone steps through an arbour of golden ginko trees, we had to stop. A wily buck who had escaped being de-antlered was pursuing a doe; she was trying to hide behind groups of people. The buck was getting very frustrated, and let out his horrible deer-scream of a mating call. It wasn't music to the doe's ears, either. She took off through the trees with the buck in hot pursuit. The three of us breathed sighs of relief between exclamations of "abunai!" (dangerous!), and continued on to the Daibutsu.

This guy is big. Re-e-e-eeeally big. He is dark grayish green, with his eyes slitted thoughtfully and his enormous right hand held up in a gesture of peace. He is housed in the worlds largest wooden structure. All around his base, people from everywhere swarm and try to snap his picture in the gloom. Incense burns. Dim sunshine streams through the slats on the sides of the structure. We could walk right around him; behind him and to his left, there was a sort of hole hollowed out in the base of one of the enormous wooden pillars that supports the building. Ume had told me about this hole beforehand. "It's the same size as the Daibutsu's nose-hole. When I was in junior-high-school, we had a class trip to Nara. So, if you can fit through the nose-hole," here, she gestured with a fisted arm, "you will be clever in your life. One of my friends couldn't fit through! We laughed at him so much!" So I understood that if I could fit my arm through the Buddha-sized nostril-hole, I would be granted eternal cleverness. Sweet. However, I had misunderstood. It wasn't your arm you had to get through this nose-hole. It was your whole self! (I told you the Daibutsu was big!) I stood with the rest of the large group of onlookers as child after child scooted through, slick and quick. The adults seemed to just be watching. I wasn't going to let this opportunity for lifetime cleverness just pass me by. I crouched down and examined the hole. "It's pretty big," I thought. "And I can fit into a Japanese 'L' size now... so here goes nothing." I dove in. My arms, my head, my shoulders slid in, no problem. Then... my butt. Oh NO, my butt! I'm stuck! Ume came around the front of the hole to snap a photo of me looking flushed and maniacal. I wriggled and tried to use my feet to push me through; I felt helpful hands shoving at my waggling rump. It was no use, I backed out with a sheepish grin and a red face and exclaimed "saiyaku!" (that sucks!) to the incredulous and giggling crowd. The promise of lifetime cleverness, snatched away! Ume soothed me and pointed out that I had emboldened the rest of the adults; now the previous onlookers were diving through, one after the other. Ume's mom said that what I really needed was for the Daibutsu to have a big sneeze-- that would have pushed me through. I asked her who had been trying to help me through, her or her mom, or...? "Some old ladies," she replied. You can always count on the kindness of strangers in Japan!