2015 03 11 Blue

My Morning Gratitudes

Brought to you by the color blue.

I think of blue as a calm color, a healing color. The color of the sky and the ocean. Today we mark the 4 year anniversary of the Japan tsunami.  A 9.0 undersea earthquake hit at 2:46 pm March 11, 2011 off the coast of Japan. The resulting tsunami would reek havoc and devastation on the area.

I know people in Japan.  More now than I did then.  Then, we waited to hear about a friend's family. They were OK, on the other side of the Island.

Last summer at the SAORI Conference I met Emiko, a SAORI weaver who lived through this day. This is her story as written by Amy Bissell. 

On Sunday July 13th, 2014, in the evening between the SAORI conference and post-conference, two dozen weavers sat in the lobby of the hotel and listened to Emiko Oikawa. She told her story of the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and the tsunami that devasted Ishinomaki, Miyagi prefecture, where she had her SAORI studio Yokisya. Translated by Mihoko Wakabayashi, we heard how she and three other women survived a day that promised rain, possibly snow, and temperatures that would dip down below freezing, when the strongest earthquake ever to hit Japan rocked the studio. Centered less than 100 miles to the east of Ishinomaki, the monster quake came and went while the weavers were sitting together drinking tea, but the worst was about to strike. After the shock had passed there was a calm of perhaps half an hour then the tsunami that had been generated by the quake struck.  The waves that came ashore, inundating Ishinomaki, topped 25 feet, and rising water started coming down the street, turning into a torrent of murky water, cars, and debris that would rose, trapping the four women inside Yokisya Studio.    

Emiko spoke quietly of how she jumped on a stack of tatami mats which were floating after the water level came up to her chin, and from there into a crawl space where she pulled her three companions to safety. When they were holding on the edge of the crawling space, one student of hers said, “Mrs. Oikawa, I don’t think I can make it.” Emiko responded right away. “Don’t give up. We all will make it. Don’t say such a thing.”  

They spent the night there holding each others’ hands in the cold, wet darkness, huddled for warmth and mutual support, to be rescued the next morning by neighbor who survived in a second story of the building across the street.  The neighbor and four ladies lived together at his apartment for a week. The water receded in four days. When Emiko's son was able to enter the area to search he found the house gone and the studio deserted. He didn't know that she was safe across the street.  Only later were mother and son reunited. When he came to search for her a week later, he saved a banana for her from the food share at the shelter he was staying at. He found his mother and her students well fed in a neighbor’s apartment. After the water subsided Emiko found her freezer jammed in the midst of damaged items. Fortunately she stocked up food because that was just before the day she expecting her son’s visit.   

 Her home was completely destroyed. Her studio building survived but all the looms and yarns suffered from the mud and debris.  The students at the studio encouraged Emiko to reopen the studio without rebuilding.  Some of them whose homes survived the devastation washed the banners and brought them back to the studio. Other volunteers cleaned and repaired the studio and looms. Kenzo came over to help with the maintenance of the looms. 

Three months later, as SAORI cloth and weavings were salvaged and hung out as colorful banners amid a dismal grey scene of destruction, the community rallied around them, and the display made a hopeful, cheering sight for the neighborhood and beyond. Many volunteers who came to help the city told Emiko that they got encouragement from the banners. Some could not understand why there was a “live” building there.   

Since reopening Emiko continues teaching. There are fewer students remaining but she believes they will come back someday. A few of the people who came to the studio in confusion and despair remained. A carpenter who got faith from the studio helped rebuild her house later.  

In Peachtree City, Georgia we listened to this story of strength and tenacity. I came away with an abiding sense that the labor of our hands, our SAORI weaving, can be more than art, cloth, clothing, weaving.  It can be hope, and the future, and a way to bring people together in the worst, and the best circumstances. 
  

My Morning Gratitudes

* The opportunity to have met Emiko and to have heard her awesome story.

* The friends I have made due to SAORI

* Jury Duty. Yes this was on yesterday's Attitude of Gratitude, but it is worth repeating.

* Morning workouts. I so didn't want to this AM, but I am thankful that I did.

* The crazy things that pop up on facebook that make me go "huuummmm"  

Find the calming blue in your day